Page 64 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

"When he brought me the clothes, he deliberately looked away." A little laugh colored her voice. "Like you'd gouge his eyes out if he looked too long."

The room spun. Then I heard Varlam answer. "Of course. You're important to me. Everyone knows how to act."

Every word came through clear.

My heart felt like it had been run through with the sharpest knife.

Her body shouldn't be seen by other men. Her vulnerability shouldn't be exposed to anyone. She deserved to be carried back to his office personally. And me?

Varlam forced his kiss on me, shoved up my clothes in an elevator that could open any second. He never wondered if maintenance workers might be standing outside that door, never asked if I'd be humiliated if someone caught us.

Of course he understood respect and restraint. He just didn't waste them on me.

He probably thought I was strong enough. Could take the humiliation, could stand back up after getting hurt again and again. So he could take me roughly and turn away without guilt.

That brief sweetness of being protected by him turned completely bitter. My lungs felt stuffed with broken glass, every breath cutting deep. Varlam's tenderness had always belonged to someone else. I'd just glimpsed a corner of it at the wrong time and thought it meant he cared. I'd been so fucking wrong.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to let myself cry.

Chapter Seventeen

Briony

I called in sick and went straight home.

The second the door shut, I finally stopped holding myself together.

My bag slid off my shoulder and hit the floor. I pressed my back against the door and slid down, burying my face in my knees. The first sob that tore out of me startled even myself. It sounded ugly, like a wounded animal.

I had to face the brutal, simple truth—Varlam protected me because he could. He kissed me because he wanted to.

Men like him had seen too many women, knew too well how to keep control. One promise, one embrace, one perfectly timed moment of tenderness—enough to make a fool like me think I'd been chosen. But when it came to someone he actually cared about, she always came first.

I bit down on my hand, but I couldn't stop the tears.

My phone buzzed in my bag. Once. Then again.

I knew I shouldn't. But my heart picked up pace, traitor that it was. Was it Varlam? Before I even lifted my head, I'd already started imagining what he'd say.

"Come back." Or maybe, "Where are you?"

He rarely explained. Just gave orders. And I'd curse him for being an asshole while being dragged right back to him by that unshakable certainty.

I wiped my eyes and grabbed my bag, fingers fumbling with the passcode. No name on the screen. Just a company email.

"Position Adjustment Notice: Effective tomorrow, Briony Cox will return to the Wedding Planning Department. Original position and responsibilities reinstated. Salary unchanged."

I read it three times. No reason. No transition. Nothing.

When Varlam pulled me from my old department, it was the same. A hard notice, a new desk uncomfortably close to his. He decided, I moved. Now he was done with me, so back I went.

My finger hovered over "salary unchanged."

This should be good news. I wouldn't have to see him with Brinny anymore. Wouldn't have to sort through his complex reports spanning restaurants, jewelry stores, bars, and casinos. Wouldn't have to wait late into the night with stacks of handwritten records while he returned from places I had no business knowing about.

I should be relieved. But tears kept falling onto the screen, blurring the words into smears of light.

People are so greedy. I used to only want money. As long as I could pay off my parents' medical debt, make rent on time, and keep Rory's lunchbox full of things he liked, I could do any job. Wash dishes, serve drinks, execute complicated wedding plans for impossible brides, take client calls at three a.m., show up to morning meetings with dark circles under my eyes.