Page 8 of Reclaimed By My Ex’s Bratva Brother

"So you planned this wedding?" For the first time, I saw something like surprise on his face.

"Yes. This should've been the happiest day. If all that awful stuff hadn't happened."

He didn't follow up with commentary or comfort, but moved a step closer. His scent filled my surroundings again.

"Want to get a drink? I know a great bar."

"Asking me out for drinks requires a reason, doesn't it?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

That face was criminally handsome from every angle. Looking up at him, his features appeared even sharper, his jawline more defined. That sexy tan skin struck my weakest point.

"Does it?"

"Of course."

"Consider it... me wanting to provide some comfort for your terrible day."

My throat seized. I hadn't expected him to say that. He watched me, his gaze like a fine, warm net. I knew I couldn't refuse.

But did he know about my relationship with Makar? He'd never mentioned it.

Almost sleeping with my ex's brother already exceeded my expectations. But even having derailed, I couldn't stop myself from moving closer to that dangerous unknown territory.

Chapter Three

Varlam

I brought her to one of my bars. Part of my portfolio, with a unique design. The ceiling was one massive piece of stained glass, heavy with Russian church vibes. The ambient lighting made the whole place feel lazy, indulgent.

Briony relaxed here. She knocked back several drinks, her lips growing more glossy and full. I'd already felt them in that lounge—how soft they were, how her saliva tasted like honey.

And her lush body. Those curves fit my hands like they were made for them. She was the sexiest woman I'd ever seen. If no one had interrupted us earlier, I would've tasted every inch of her.

Fuck. My cock was hard again. I forced down the heat rising in my chest and clinked my glass against hers.

"You like it here?"

"Who wouldn't?" She looked up at the kaleidoscope of light on the ceiling, eyes bright.

"Maybe. My places are only for people worth pleasing."

She turned to me, surprise flickering across her face.

"Wait, you own this bar? You seem so low-key. I didn't think you'd go for this ornate style. I figured you'd be more minimalist."

I didn't care about style. This was just one of many properties I'd acquired.

Things were different now. Back in the day, violence worked. Not anymore. If you wanted to hold onto bratva honor in New York, black market ops alone wouldn't cut it.

The pigs at the precinct were always hunting for their cut. I had to adapt—turn dirty money into clean cash flow. With enough legitimate companies on the surface, it wasn't hard.

I figured that was why this girl thought I was a gentleman. This "treat people nice" act kept me out of trouble.

"So you think you've got me figured out already?" I stared at the flush spreading across her face.

"I wouldn't dare claim to understand anyone anymore." She paused, eyes dimming. "I thought I knew my ex-boyfriend. My best friend. But they were screwing behind my back. I still don't get it—he dumped me, so why humiliate me at the wedding with Chloe? Because of my body?"

She grabbed her glass and drained it.