Page 20 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

"I'll wait for HR."

His hand shot toward the lanyard at my chest. I dodged, but he grabbed my collar, exposing the edge of my bra. He stared at my chest for several seconds, his gaze viscous and nauseating.

I slapped his hand away. "Seen enough?"

He seemed to snap out of it, furious with shame, and grabbed my arm to drag me out.

"Since you won't leave on your own, I'll personally escort you out."

"Let go of me!"

My other hand clutched the desk edge, resisting his violent pull. Winnie rushed over to help, but he shoved her back hard. My fingers hurt so badly I could barely hold on.

I was about to knee him when I heard his scream.

He released me. Momentum made me stumble backward. I thought I'd hit the floor—it would hurt like hell and give my coworkers gossip for days. But a solid arm caught my waist, steadying me against a familiar cedar scent.

"You all right?" The deep voice came from above.

My breath stopped. Varlam. Why had he come back?

Chapter Six

Varlam

A FEW HOURS EARLIER.

She ran.

When I woke up, her side of the bed was already cold. The girl—Briony Cox—left while I was asleep.

Her scent lingered in the room, that sweet, fresh lemon smell, but her purse was gone from the table. She'd been careful about it. Nothing like the woman from last night—bold, demanding, talking dirty without hesitation.

"Briony..." Her name sat in my chest like cotton.

This was new. No woman had ever snuck out of my bed before.

Most wouldn't dare. They craved the chance to be near me, to please me, hoping I'd favor them so they could get something out of it.

Only one person had ever run from me before. Brinny Vasilieva. Even their names were similar.

Her face appeared in my mind uninvited. Pale skin, thin but balanced features, cornflower blue eyes that looked so fragile they made everyone want to protect her. We'd been the couple everyone envied. She walked into my heart, then walked right back out.

Thinking of that angel face made my chest ache. I hated this lack of control.

Briony was just as uncontrollable. She was young—maybe twenty-three, twenty-four at most. She should've been afraid of me, not lifting her chin in my arms, kissing me like a challenge. But last night, I was the one who lost his grip. One look from her and I forgot about age, status, Makar—everything.

Logic told me last night was already a mistake. But the thought that she'd provoked me first, then left on her own terms—the anger was impossible to suppress.

I took a cold shower, but the water didn't wash away the frustration. My fist slammed into the wall.

Damn it, who did she think she was, just walking out? She should've woken up in my arms, kissed me, pleased me, begged me to let her stay.

If I caught her, I'd fuck her until she never wanted to leave again. I'd teach her what a stupid choice it was to sneak out of my bed.

Want to end this? She'd have to earn that right first.

I dried off and walked out of the bathroom. My phone screen was lit up.