Page 69 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

Brinny blinked. Her smile faded. For a split second, I nearly reached for my phone. One order and Briony would be up here. I could ask her myself—did she really want to leave?

But before I could give the command, the elevator came crashing back.

The darkness. The freefall. Her body shaking against mine. She'd looked up at me, taken my kiss, breath breaking in my mouth, fingers locked in my shirt like I was the only thing that wouldn't drop when the cables snapped.

Then the doors opened. And I'd carried Brinny out, leaving her behind.

Pressure ground through my ribs. I had no right to be pissed she'd left. Worse—I didn't know what authority I even had to call her back. We'd crossed way past boss and employee.

I'd spent my whole life refusing gray areas. Enemies were enemies. Allies were allies. Betray me, pay the price. Obey me, get rewarded. But Briony had become the one zone I couldn't map—I wanted to own her, but I couldn't justify why I should.

Brinny was back. The woman I loved stood beside me again. Logic said I should clear every other woman out of my life.

Especially Briony.

But a few days ago, I'd almost taken her in that elevator. Around her, my control snapped like a burnt wire—one touch and it was gone. I wanted to hear her gasp, wanted that stubborn mouth soft under mine, wanted those defiant eyes locked on me and nowhere else.

The craving wasn't decent. And it sure as hell wasn't gentle.

"Varlam?" Brinny's voice pulled me back. "Are you angry?"

I refocused. She was watching me, tentative.

Of course I was angry. But I couldn't tell if it was at Briony for leaving, Brinny for overstepping, or myself—for feeling like someone had carved a piece out of me over one empty desk.

I hated losing control. Hated admitting some things had never been mine to control in the first place.

Maybe Briony made the right call. At least with distance, she wouldn't have to face me all day. And I could use the space to figure out what the hell I was thinking.

"Don't do it again," I told Brinny.

That was the softest version I had.

"Okay." She looked down, deflated.

But I didn't have it in me to comfort her. I stared at that empty desk, couldn't look away. Brinny noticed immediately.

"If you need someone, I can be your assistant. I learned a lot abroad—I can answer your calls, sit in on meetings. We'd be together all the time."

She made it sound easy, like an assistant just sat outside my door instead of coordinating across time zones and handling crises at three a.m.

Brinny wouldn't like that work. And I wouldn't put her through it.

Vigo had kept her under glass. She'd gotten everything she wanted since childhood. If she felt the slightest bit off, everyone around her practically stopped the world. Those delicate hands were made for champagne flutes, not running files between twenty floors.

"I don't need one."

"I can handle it."

"It's not about capability." I looked at her. "You don't need to do this. I can work without an assistant."

I pulled away and sat down. I had a backlog to get through.

But Brinny didn't move toward the couch. She stood there biting her lip, fingers twisting together, then releasing.

"What is it?"

"These past years, I've thought about a lot of things. I've been to a lot of places, met a lot of people. But no one ever cared for me the way you did." She came closer, eyes suddenly wet. "I still love you, Varlam."