Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Varlam
A FEW HOURS EARLIER.
She ran.
When I woke up, her side of the bed was already cold. The girl—Briony Cox—left while I was asleep.
Her scent lingered in the room, that sweet, fresh lemon smell, but her purse was gone from the table. She'd been careful about it. Nothing like the woman from last night—bold, demanding, talking dirty without hesitation.
"Briony..." Her name sat in my chest like cotton.
This was new. No woman had ever snuck out of my bed before.
Most wouldn't dare. They craved the chance to be near me, to please me, hoping I'd favor them so they could get something out of it.
Only one person had ever run from me before. Brinny Vasilieva. Even their names were similar.
Her face appeared in my mind uninvited. Pale skin, thin but balanced features, cornflower blue eyes that looked so fragile they made everyone want to protect her. We'd been the couple everyone envied. She walked into my heart, then walked right back out.
Thinking of that angel face made my chest ache. I hated this lack of control.
Briony was just as uncontrollable. She was young—maybe twenty-three, twenty-four at most. She should've been afraid of me, not lifting her chin in my arms, kissing me like a challenge.
But last night, I was the one who lost his grip.
One look from her and I forgot about age, status, Makar—everything.
Logic told me last night was already a mistake. But the thought that she'd provoked me first, then left on her own terms—the anger was impossible to suppress.
I took a cold shower, but the water didn't wash away the frustration. My fist slammed into the wall.
Damn it, who did she think she was, just walking out? She should've woken up in my arms, kissed me, pleased me, begged me to let her stay.
If I caught her, I'd fuck her until she never wanted to leave again. I'd teach her what a stupid choice it was to sneak out of my bed.
Want to end this? She'd have to earn that right first.
I dried off and walked out of the bathroom. My phone screen was lit up.
"Pakhan, Pavel won't talk. Car's waiting downstairs."
Gleb's message sat quietly on my screen.
Pavel was one of my father's old guards, supported me when I needed it. But somehow this lunatic had spent over a year secretly collecting evidence of the bratva's money laundering, planning to hand it to the cops. If I hadn't caught him in time, it would've been serious trouble.
As for why he did it, I was about to find out. And Briony? She wasn't getting away either.
The car stopped at its destination.
An abandoned warehouse. The air reeked of rust and stagnant water. The scattered buildings were falling apart, walls covered in peeling paint and creeping vines. I wasn't bringing anyone inside.
"Stay at the door," I told Gleb. "I'll talk to him alone."
Pavel was a classic performer. The bigger the audience, the more he'd play the martyred hero.
"Understood, Pakhan." Gleb paused. "That woman—Briony. I've sent people to find her. We'll have news soon."
I nodded and walked in alone.
Gleb never disappointed me. As long as she was still in New York, he'd find her. Right now Pavel was more important.
He wasn't just any member. He'd been with my father through the bloodiest years, watched me go from a questioned kid to pakhan.
My right pinky finger throbbed dully. The doctors saved it but couldn't restore it. It was a constant reminder. I'd earned this position inch by inch through doubt and blood.
After my father died, I inherited the bratva. Half the table waited for me to fail. Pavel and a few old members stood behind me. That's why I didn't have Gleb execute him immediately.
I also found it hard to believe he'd betray the bratva for obvious profit.
I walked into the warehouse. Pavel was tied to a chair in the center, a black cloth stuffed in his mouth. His face was already beaten and swollen.
"Pavel, glad I get to see you again instead of your corpse." I approached him.
He growled through the gag like a trapped jackal.
I untied the cloth from his mouth.
"Varlam, you bastard!" The first thing he did was curse me. "You're fucking worthless."
I didn't respond immediately. Anyone else would've died several times over for that line.
"You know that only pisses me off. Tell me—why? Collecting evidence of the organization's money laundering, then handing it to the cops. What's in it for you?"
He knew betrayal was worse than death.
"I won't say anything. Go ahead and kill me." His forehead veins bulged. "You pathetic coward!"
I saw his bound legs trembling. They gave him away.
"Death isn't punishment. Living in agony is." My voice was calm. "If you want to experience that, I can help."
Pavel's jaw clenched.
"I already dealt with that detective and got back what you collected. You haven't caused irreparable damage to the bratva." I leaned forward, meeting his eyes. "I'm still willing to hear your explanation. Because I still don't see you as just a traitor."
Something flickered briefly in his gaze.
"You followed my father for over twenty years." I continued. "After he died, you helped me secure this position. I don't believe someone like that would send his brothers to prison for a few bills."
Pavel laughed coldly.
"You think you know me?"
"I know who you used to be."
"Used to be?" His voice suddenly rose. "Even you know that was in the past!"
Pavel's chest heaved violently, like long-suppressed rage finally finding an outlet.
"When your father was alive, the bratva wasn't like this. We didn't bow to politicians, didn't watch the cops' faces, didn't hide our guns for a few business deals!"
"Back then people died in shootouts every year."
"That was war! That was honor!" He glared at me, teeth gritted. "Now you've turned the bratva into a bunch of damn businessmen in suits. You sit with lawyers, bankers, those filthy politicians and drink with them. You make us yield to cops, let people who used to fear us climb on our heads!"
"I made everyone more money and kept them alive longer."
"Merely surviving, you mean."
"Being alive is being alive."
"Coward!"
The word fell and the warehouse went briefly silent. My right pinky throbbed with stiff pain again.
When I was twenty, they demanded I prove myself. I cut off my own pinky in front of everyone, swore to God I'd protect the bratva. Pavel was there.
"You call me a coward?" I grabbed his collar, dragging him and the chair up. "Then what do you call secretly collecting evidence, preparing to send your men and the whole bratva to prison while claiming you won't bow to cops?"
Pavel's breathing stopped for a moment.
"You destroyed the bratva's bloody traditions. You don't deserve to inherit your father's legacy, don't deserve to be pakhan."
"Your so-called traditions just sent people to die with guns in their hands."
"At least they died like men!"
My fist smashed into his face. Pavel and the chair crashed to the floor.
"They joined the bratva to live better, not to satisfy your nostalgia." I watched him struggle to lift his head. "They have families. Wives and children."
Pavel spat bloody saliva.
"You've gone weak, Varlam."
"Real weakness is refusing to admit times have changed."
Pavel stared at me, eyes still full of hate.
"Go on, kill me!" He raised his head and roared. "If you think killing me will shut everyone up, then do it."
I watched him for a long time.
This man once stood behind me when I faced doubt, once respectfully called me pakhan. I gave him a chance to explain, a chance to turn back. But he chose to turn past loyalty into today's knife in my back.
"I don't want to shut everyone up," I said. "You can question me, question my decisions, but I will never let anyone hand over the bratva."
I knew dissatisfied voices still existed in the organization, but as long as they didn't cross the line, I wouldn't say anything. My father and I had completely different philosophies, though we both did our best for the organization. I didn't care what they thought. I cared what they did.
I pulled the gun from my waistband. Pavel's face finally changed. Fear flashed in his eyes before he forced it down.
"You'll go to hell."
"Maybe." I pressed the barrel to his forehead.
Pavel's face had gone white. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something. I pulled the trigger, didn't give him the chance.
I walked out of the warehouse. Gleb stood outside, immediately turning at my footsteps.
"Clean it up."
"Understood, Pakhan."
His phone rang. He glanced at the screen, expression shifting.
"We found her."
Everything was under my control.
No one escaped from me. Briony thought leaving my bed was an ending, thought I'd allow it.
When I stood in front of her, she'd understand. When a relationship ended was never for her alone to decide.
NOW.
Her soft body collided with mine. My hand caught her waist, palm pressing against that full curve and tightening. She'd been watching me through that glass moments ago, cheeks flushed, blonde hair bright. Now her face was pale, hair disheveled.
I came here because I'd always thought wedding planning companies were perfect for moving money—no fixed prices, a money laundering paradise. A good opportunity. And I could take that girl who challenged me too.
But when my thumb brushed over her swollen wrist and she flinched slightly, I didn't feel the thrill of conquest. Just inexplicable irritation.
I looked up at the bastard who'd touched her. He clutched his deformed wrist, forehead covered in cold sweat. He wanted to curse but stopped when he saw my face.
"Mr. Petrov? What are you doing here?"
Of course he recognized me. He'd been standing at the door, bowing and scraping not long ago.
"What were you just doing?"
"You misunderstand." He forced an ugly smile, rushing to explain. "This employee refused to follow orders. I was going to take her out to cool down."
I glanced at Briony, still shocked in my arms. The fury in my chest burned hotter.
"Your idea of cooling down is grabbing an employee, ignoring her struggle, and violently dragging her away?"
"Mr. Petrov." He still tried to maintain dignity, but his voice weakened. "She openly defied her supervisor, disrupted office order, wouldn't accept management. I was just following company policy."
As if calling it "management" made what he'd done acceptable.
"If talking dirty and pulling open a female employee's collar counts as management—" The girl who'd been frozen spoke up. "Then Briony really wasn't very cooperative."
This idiot had sexually harassed Briony. I should crack his soccer ball head open and see what the hell was inside.
"Winnie, shut up!" He turned and yelled at the girl.
"You were loud enough that you couldn't have expected only Briony to hear."
Winnie didn't back down. She glanced around the office.
"Besides, this isn't the first time you've singled her out." She sneered. "Lily chats all morning, you don't hear it. Briony and I say a few words, you notice from across the office."
Some people quickly looked down, pretending they hadn't heard. Others exchanged meaningful glances.
"The most troublesome, time-sensitive work—he dumps it on Briony. Because he knows she needs this job and won't push back." She looked at me.
The man tried to defend himself, but seeing my expression, he swallowed.
"I admit my handling was somewhat inappropriate." He wiped sweat from his forehead. "But this is our company's internal matter. Mr. Petrov, you don't understand the full situation..."
I looked at him for several seconds.
"Internal matter?"
He seemed to find some confidence, straightening his back.
"Yes. I respect that you're an important client of the boss, but how we handle employees should still be our decision."
Hurried footsteps approached. The former owner I'd just signed papers with rushed over.
"Mr. Petrov, what happened?"
I didn't look at him.
"Tell him what we discussed in the conference room."
He glanced at the man's deformed wrist and shook his head helplessly.
"The acquisition agreement is officially signed. Aurelia Company now belongs to Petrov Group."
Briony looked up from my arms, eyes wide. The color drained from the man's face.
"No..." His lips started trembling.
"You're fired."
He lurched forward. I froze him with my eyes.
"No, sir, you can't do this!" He stammered. "No, I mean, I won't do it again. I'm so sorry, Mr. Petrov—"
"I'm not the one you should apologize to."
I released Briony's waist, bringing her in front of me.
"Briony, I'm sorry. I was too impulsive." He immediately looked at her. "Tell Mr. Petrov I didn't mean it."
Even now, he was still ordering her around. This waste didn't know what he'd done wrong.
Briony pressed her lips together stubbornly, didn't answer. But the man grabbed at his last straw, reaching again for Briony's wrist.
Unrepentant bastard. Leaving him one arm was too generous.
I kicked him in the chest. He slid backward, knocking over a chair. The sharp scraping sound cut through the office, but no one dared speak. He struggled up, tried to say something. I ordered Gleb, waiting in the hallway, to come in.
"Get him out of my sight."
Gleb grabbed the man's collar, dragged him up like a bag of trash.
"Mr. Petrov, please give me one more chance—" He didn't get to finish. Gleb shut him up.
That disgusting voice and figure finally disappeared. The former owner bowed and left too.
Even Winnie sat back at her desk, mouth open.
I turned back to Briony.
"Little troublemaker." I lowered my voice so only she could hear. "That's twice now."
The flush on her cheeks instantly spread to her ears. I reached up, tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. When my fingertip grazed her burning earlobe, her lashes fluttered, and her breathing hitched. Good. At least I wasn't the only one who remembered last night.
"You're done working today."
"I can keep working." She quietly protested, finally trying to pull away that pitiful distance.
"I know."
She looked up at me, wary.
"Then what do you mean?"
"Be my assistant. This place isn't right for you anymore."
She looked around, clearly noticing those barely concealed burning stares.
"After what just happened, you're the focal point of the entire office." I leaned in until her lower back pressed against the desk, nowhere left to go. "Think they'll focus on your planning work now, or on our relationship?"
She bit her lip, clearly hadn't expected me to be so direct.
"What if I refuse?" She lifted her chin, eyes challenging.
Bold and interesting.
"You can try." My gaze dropped to her flushed lips.
When my thumb brushed over her slightly parted lower lip, that soft sensation reminded me how it felt wrapped around me. I saw her pupils contract. She clearly remembered the same thing.
Personal assistant was just the first step. I wanted her in my office, sitting where I could see her whenever I looked up.
Until she couldn't tell anymore whether she was working for me or slowly becoming mine.