Page 73 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

"I asked you a question. Who the fuck authorized you to abandon your post? You picked venues, arranged guest lists, wrote timelines—and you never once thought to ask me if this was actually something I assigned you? Or do you just do whatever you're told as long as my name's on it, even if it's planning my goddamn wedding?"

Briony didn't defend herself. Those brown eyes went from confused to red-rimmed.

I'd seen plenty of people afraid of me. Some begged. Some threw everyone around them under the bus. Briony had never been either. Even the first time she learned who I really was, she'd looked me in the face and called me a bastard.

But now she just stood there, jaw clenched, silent. That silence made me even angrier.

"Answer me."

"Are you finished?" She pulled the file back against her chest. "If you're not, keep going. Whatever happens, it's my fault anyway."

Her voice was quiet. Resigned. Like she'd already accepted guilt. Something sank in my chest.

"I didn't say that."

"That's exactly what you meant."

She finally raised her voice. The emotion sounded like it had been bottled up forever—one crack and everything came flooding out.

"The task came from your email. Your name was on it. The project department got copied. Tell me, Mr. Petrov—what was I supposed to do? Storm into your office with the email and ask if you actually sent it? And if you had, would you have yelled at me for bothering you over something so small?"

She didn't give me a chance to respond.

"The transfer notice was official too. One day I'm your assistant, the next everyone's asking if you got tired of screwing me and dumped me back where I came from. You're asking who authorized me to leave? I'd like to know too."

Her breathing was ragged. The hurt was written all over her face. My heart clenched.

"I've got plenty of questions for you. She threw water on herself and blamed me—and you believed that pathetic lie. You wouldn't even listen to my side. You held her and comforted her right in front of me. Then in the elevator, you touched me like nothing had happened."

She was shaking now.

"Briony." I stood, moved toward her.

"Don't." Her palm came up, blocking me.

"When the elevator dropped, you held me. You said as long as you were alive, you wouldn't let me die. I believed you." She laughed shortly, tears sliding down her cheeks. "Then the doors opened. You let go. Walked out. Picked up another woman. You didn't even look back."

Every accusation felt like broken ribs. I wanted to explain that Brinny's health was fragile. That she'd run out barefoot, worked up, that her heart could've given out any second. That I was just making sure she was safe. But when the words reached my mouth, they all sounded pathetic.

Because Briony was right. I'd done all those things to her.

"I didn't send that email." I finally lowered my voice. "The transfer wasn't my call either."

"Then who?" She didn't sound like she was asking—more like confirming. "Brinny?"

I hesitated for one second. That second gave her the answer. She closed her eyes. Her lashes trembled.

"Of course it was her." She nodded, wiped her face. "Only she would dare. And you'll never blame her. She wanted me out of your office, so you let me go. She wanted me to plan your wedding, so she used your email to order me around. When it all blew up, you called me in here—and the first thing you did was chew me out."

"Briony, listen—" I moved around the desk and grabbed her shoulders.

"No. I've heard enough." She jerked back immediately. "I'm fucking done!"

She slammed the file on the floor.

White pages scattered across the carpet between us like an uncrossable border.

"What did you say?"