Page 74 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

"I'm resigning." She lifted her chin. Eyes swollen, expression defiant.

"Don't be rash." The moment the words left my mouth, I heard the command in my tone.

So did she.

"See? That's you. You always think everyone else is just being rash, and you always get to decide for them." Her voice turned sharp. "I know the pay here is good. I know no one else will pay me this much. I've got rent, I've got Rory, I'll probably need three jobs. But at least no one will treat me like dirt while telling me I should be grateful for the paycheck."

My jaw tightened. Anyone else talked to me like that, they wouldn't walk out of this office. But Briony was different. Of course she was different. That fact detonated in my head too fast to deny.

She turned and headed for the door.

I watched her go, an unfamiliar panic seizing my heart. She was really leaving. About to slip out of my control. She wouldn't be in this building anymore. My messages might go unanswered forever. I couldn't let her walk away.

"Stop." I barked.

She didn't. My body moved before my brain caught up. I closed the distance in two steps and caught her wrist before she reached the handle.

"Let go. You have no right to stop an employee who's already quit." She gasped and struggled.

"Your resignation isn't approved."

"I don't need your approval!"

She spun, trying to shove me off. Her soft palms hit my chest and my spine locked. Through the shirt, the heat of her touch burned into my skin. I didn't step back. But the force made her stumble into me.

The second her body pressed against mine, my breathing went haywire. She obviously felt it too—went rigid, then struggled harder.

I loosened my grip on her wrist but didn't let go. I didn't want to hurt her. Just wanted to keep her here. But those two things always seemed to become the same thing in my hands.

"Briony. Calm down."

"You're the one who needs to calm down." She glared up at me, nose red from crying. "What do you want? For me to go back and keep planning the wedding? Or wait for Miss Vasilieva to dream up her next way to torture me?"

Her anger was raw, unfiltered. I could almost taste it in her ragged breathing.

"There's no wedding," I said.

Her struggling stopped for a beat.

"What?"

"I didn't agree to it."

The words loosened something tight in my chest. Briony stared at me. Something flickered in her eyes. Too fast. I couldn't read it.

"So what?" She rebuilt her defenses quickly. "You'll say yes eventually. You love her. She wants to marry you. And whatever's between you two has nothing to do with me. I already quit."

"Stop talking."

"Why? Because you don't like hearing the truth?" Her hand was still pressed to my chest. With every word, her fingers dug harder into my shirt. "You can comfort her, hold her, make everyone get out of her way. You can kiss me and touch me when you feel like it, then walk away like nothing happened. But I'm done playing. I can't afford it."

"I'm not playing."

"Then what the hell are you doing?" She shot back, too fast, too direct. "What the fuck am I to you?"

I froze. Employee. My brother's ex. A one-night stand that shouldn't have happened.

All those answers were there. But none of them explained why I couldn't breathe when she walked away, why her looking at me with red eyes felt like someone had carved a piece out of my chest.