Page 91 of Pregnant Bratva Wife
Beatrice shot me a look that said,I told you so, before tactfully retreating to her bedroom.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just... wanted to see you.”
“Well, you’ve seen me.” Autumn crossed her arms. “And now I’d like you to leave.”
I took a step toward her. “Autumn, please. Can’t we talk? I know I screwed up. I know what I did was wrong. But I never meant for things to end up like this.”
“Of course you didn’t!” she snapped. “Because you would have lied your way to the grave. Were you ever going to tell me the truth, Federico?”
The words aimed right at the heart of my guilt.
“I wanted you,” I whispered. “The only truth is that I wanted you. From the first moment I saw you. Everything else I did was wrong. I know that now. But what I feel for you is real, and I know I would have come clean. Eventually. If only we had more time…”
She laughed with such scorn that I wished the ground would open and swallow me whole. “Real? You don’t even know what that word means.”
“I do with you,” I insisted, taking a step closer. “Please, just give me a chance to show you—”
“Don’t.” She backed away. “Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. Just... go.”
“Autumn—”
“I said go!” Her voice cracked. “This isn’t helping. You aren’t helping. I need space, Federico. Real space. Not you showing up with gifts like I’m some kind of problem you can throw money at.”
I stood there, watching her face crumple slightly before she got it under control. I’d done that. Put that pain there.
“I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it more than I’d ever meant anything. “I’ll go. But Autumn, I’m not giving up on us.”
She said nothing. Just shook her head.
I walked out of Beatrice’s apartment with the heaviest heart I’ve ever felt. The gifts remained on the floor where I’d left them—unwanted, unneeded. Just like me.
* * *
“You look like shit,” Dante announced, dropping into the chair across from my desk.
I looked up from my paperwork. “Thank you forthatinsightful observation.”
“No, seriously.” Achille appeared behind him, leaning against the doorframe. “You look worse than when you got shot last year.”
“Don’t you two have somewhere to be?” I growled. “Preferably far away from me?”
Dante whistled low. “Damn, who pissed in your vodka?”
I slammed my pen down. “What do you want?”
My brothers exchanged glances. Achille, the quieter of the two, stepped forward. “We’re concerned.”
“About?”
“You’re being an asshole,” Dante said bluntly. “More than usual.”
“I’m always an asshole.”
“Not like this.” Achille sat on the edge of my desk. “You snapped at Elena yesterday. Made one of the new guys actually cry. And you’ve been walking around like you’re ready to murder someone just for breathing wrong.”
I rubbed my face, exhaustion seeping into my bones. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit,” Dante said. “This is about Autumn, isn’t it?”
