Page 51 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

I told myself he was probably driving, probably just didn't have time to check his phone. But he had a driver. And Varlam never let anything disrupt his rhythm.

Less than twenty minutes later, rapid footsteps echoed down the hall. Varlam appeared in the doorway.

His tie was crooked. His usually perfect silver-gray hair was disheveled. His chest rose and fell visibly beneath his shirt—like he hadn't stopped once. This rushed, unkempt version of him told the story of his urgency. I'd never seen him like this. The man who was always composed, who always made others wait, couldn't even catch his breath.

The moment he entered, his gaze locked on the woman. He didn't look at me at all. The woman's eyes reddened the instant she saw him.

"Varlam—" She walked toward him.

Varlam opened his arms and caught her naturally, like his body already knew what to do. The woman melted into his embrace, face buried against his chest.

"You're finally here." Her voice trembled. "I thought you wouldn't want to see me."

The contradiction between her words barely registered. I stared at Varlam carefully holding her, my eyes stinging.

"I will always want to see you." Varlam soothed her softly. "The second I heard you were back, I walked out of my meeting."

The woman lifted her face. Tears had already slid down her cheeks. Varlam wiped them away gently, afraid of hurting her.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

"Because it's been too long." More tears spilled. "I missed you."

The scene made my stomach sink. My breathing wouldn't settle. Varlam's eyes held a patience I'd never received. Like he'd give anything to make her happy.

The woman finally seemed to remember there was a third person in the room. She glanced at me, then looked away.

"Can I talk to you alone?" She looked up at Varlam, wiping her eyes. "Just us."

Varlam finally looked at me.

Not long ago, he'd been texting me about how he wanted to touch me. I'd even imagined how he'd kiss me when he got back, how he'd press me against this desk. Now his gaze was flat. Like all our intimacy these past days had been fake.

"Get out." No hesitation.

I didn't move—my brain suddenly couldn't process language.

"What?"

His brow furrowed.

"Briony, get out." He barked. "Now."

The sound slammed into my chest. I flinched. His eyes were terrifying—like if I didn't obey, he'd kill me. I ran on instinct. I made it around the corner before I stopped, back against the wall, palms marked with deep nail crescents.

Briony, calm down! Why are you running? You should demand answers—who is this woman, what is she to him?

The thought pulled me together. Yes. I had the right to ask. Maybe we'd never officially said we were together, but he'd called me his woman in front of everyone at that party. He'd come to me in the middle of the night, stayed in my bed, touched me in this office in ways only lovers do.

I shouldn't be standing here like some dismissed employee.

I took a deep breath and forced down the burning in my lungs. Then I walked back. But just as I reached the office door, it swung open from inside. The woman had her arm looped through Varlam's. Her eyes were still swollen, but her face glowed with sweet, blissful happiness. Even Varlam's usually straight mouth curved slightly upward.

The sharp image sliced through my throat. For a moment I couldn't speak at all.

The woman saw me but looked right through me. And Varlam genuinely didn't see me—his eyes only had room for her.

"Dad wants to see you too." The woman tilted her head toward him. "You have no idea how much he's been nagging. He kept pushing me to come back."