Page 54 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

"Too bad loyalty doesn't mean you belong at his side."

My chest tightened, but my face didn't move. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

"Am I not being direct enough?" Her gaze slid from my face to my chest, then down to my hips beneath my skirt. "You slept with Varlam a few times and think you're his woman? You're young, your body's interesting enough—of course he wanted to try you out. But novelty doesn't mean he's serious about you."

The insult hit like a slap.

I gripped the cup handle, swallowing the surge of emotion. Had Varlam told her everything about us? Did he really see our relationship as nothing but fuck buddies?

I didn't forget this was work hours. I tried to treat her like any unreasonable client.

"You came here first thing in the morning just to critique my body?"

"I'm reminding you to know your place." Her voice had that uncomfortable softness. "You and him—you're from completely different worlds. Maybe Varlam finds you fresh. Maybe he'll play around with you for a while. But he won't let some clueless little assistant into his life."

"Sounds like you know his life pretty well." I already guessed the answer but still asked, clinging to one last thread of hope.

"We grew up together." Finally, she showed a hint of satisfaction. "The Petrov and Vasiliev families go back decades. When Varlam got hurt the first time, I was there. First time he got drunk, I watched over him. During his hardest years, I was the one beside him."

My throat felt stuffed with cotton. Those were all versions of Varlam I'd never seen. Not the man who commanded the conference room, not the man who pinned me down until my reason shattered, but a young, wounded Varlam who hadn't yet locked away all his emotions.

"So stop fantasizing he'll develop feelings for you." She traced her fingertip across my shoulder, like drawing a line between me and their world.

She'd exposed the thought I least wanted to show anyone. I set the glass on the desk before I accidentally smashed it.

"If I hadn't chosen to study abroad back then, you wouldn't even have the chance to stand here." She lifted her chin slightly, delivering her final blow.

"You're his ex-girlfriend." Some scattered pieces of information in my mind finally formed a complete picture.

"I prefer to say I'm the one he's been waiting for." She didn't deny it, just reframed it.

The air suddenly thinned. My breathing came harder than usual. Defeat weighed down my shoulders. But for some reason, a fire I couldn't extinguish kept burning inside me.

Why should I retreat like I'd already lost? She was just Varlam's ex. She left him. She came back. Why should I act guilty just because she knew some old stories?

"Let me guess." My shoulders relaxed slightly. "You left him back then, but now you can't let go, so you came back to check if your spot's still waiting?"

Her expression froze for the first time.

"I'm right?" I smiled. "Whatever you were before, you're past tense now."

So what if she knew his past? She was the one who left it. I was the one who stayed.

"Past tense?" She snorted. "All I have to do is crook my finger and he'll come right back. You've already seen it, haven't you? Or did you forget how pathetic you looked the day I returned?"

Her words ripped open a barely-healed wound. I remembered that cold reprimand outside the office door, the ache in my lungs.

"If you're so sure he belongs to you, why don't you say all this to his face?" The words made my chest swell.

I knew I was bluffing. If Varlam walked in right now and reached for her hand, every word I'd just said would become a joke.

But I'd already lost to her so many times. Not this time. This time I wouldn't back down.

Brinny's face darkened—the first time I'd seen this expression on her.

Footsteps in the hallway broke our standoff. Varlam. I knew his walk too well—steady, unhurried, each step precisely measured. Brinny obviously heard it too.

She wiped every expression from her face, blue eyes filling with tears. Before I could figure out what she was doing, she'd grabbed the glass from the desk.