Page 42 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

"What the hell are you saying?" She lowered her voice in warning.

"You're jealous of me." I laid it bare. "Otherwise you wouldn't have stolen my boyfriend. And you wouldn't be here now, making sure I'm doing worse than you."

I glanced at Makar in the distance. He was looking at me over Chloe's shoulder, his expression conflicted.

"Go back to your husband." I smiled. "He's been staring at me for a while now. Stay here any longer, and everyone will know—even after stealing him, you're still worried he wants me."

Chloe whipped around to look at Makar. When she turned back to me, only frustration and anger remained.

She glared for a few seconds, then finally turned and stalked toward Makar.

That pressure I'd carried for years eased just a bit. But noticing the lingering stares around us, I started worrying. I'd come to this gala as Varlam's assistant. Would that confrontation make me look trashy? Would it reflect badly on him and the company?

"You did well." A low voice came from beside me.

Varlam had appeared at my side, bringing whiskey and cold cedar with him.

"You heard all that?" I felt guilty. "I didn't mean to cause a scene at your event."

"I'm just saying you looked more beautiful making her shut up than I expected." He glanced toward Chloe and Makar.

Heat crept up my neck. His approval made me feel like a kid getting praised by a teacher for the first time, unable to stop smiling.

"Makar!" Chloe's shrill voice carried from across the room. "That bitch humiliated me and you just stood there?"

Makar looked our way, frowning. "You went after her first."

"So it's my fault? Shouldn't you defend your wife?"

"I think you should shut up." His voice dripped with impatience. "Stop embarrassing me."

Chloe froze. When she spoke again, her tone had shifted to wheedling.

"I just wanted to say hello. I didn't think she'd get mad." Chloe moved to take his arm. Makar stepped aside, dodging her.

Then he walked away, leaving Chloe standing alone. She stared after him and stamped her foot hard.

The whole scene was painfully boring. I told Varlam I was stepping away and headed off, lifting my skirt. All that champagne was holding an emergency meeting in my stomach—I needed the restroom to handle this internal crisis.

But when I came out, I stopped short.

Makar stood in the hallway. He wore a light brown suit, one hand in his pocket, shoulder against the wall—like he'd been waiting. Hearing footsteps, he looked up but didn't speak immediately. When he went quiet like that, you could see a trace of Varlam in his features. Just a trace.

So why was he here? To defend Chloe? I took half a step back. The distance cleared my head. I was probably overreacting. Maybe he was waiting for Chloe? If he wanted to confront me, he would've done it earlier.

I kept my head down and walked forward, praying he wouldn't notice me. Nothing good ever came from running into him and Chloe.

But as I passed him, he grabbed my arm.

"Briony, I need to talk to you."

"We have nothing to talk about." I tried to pull away. He gripped tighter.

"I'm sorry." He looked down at me. "Chloe said some insulting things to you earlier."

My brain went blank.

Makar—arrogant, never-wrong Makar—was apologizing to me? I almost laughed.