Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Varlam
"Mr. Petrov, thank you so much for attending this event. We..." After the speech they'd requested, the camp director wouldn't leave me alone. She followed me around, going on about the camp activities, facilities, and the scholarship fund they were planning to raise.
I didn't hear a word of it. I never liked these events. Rarely showed up to them myself.
I had nothing against charity. What I hated was the bullshit wrapped around it. The endless speeches. The fake applause. Total waste of time.
The only reason I was here? Briony. I needed something to clear my head.
I had no idea what kind of hold this woman had on me. When she was in my office, I couldn't look away. She kept parading that perfect ass and those full breasts right in front of me.
Women had always been the least important part of my life. I'd gone numb to all the fawning years ago. But Briony was different. She brought back that rush I shouldn't be feeling anymore.
"Mr. Petrov?" The director's voice cut through my thoughts.
"Yeah. You've done well with the setup. Looking forward to working together." I glanced around and nodded.
Not just polite talk. For a charity camp focused on kids and education, they'd done a solid job. Beautiful spot on the outskirts. Kids could get close to nature. I hated being around children, but the smiles on their faces proved my money went to the right place.
"Skinny freak! Nobody loves you, you little bastard!" Cruel laughter shattered the peace.
I turned toward the sound. A group of kids surrounded a skinny boy, shoving him toward the river's edge. One push and he'd go in.
"Get away from me, you cowards!" He didn't beg. Just kept slapping their hands away, stubborn as hell.
My jaw tightened. This was exactly why I hated kids. Especially at this age. Loud, destructive little shits who only knew how to pick on the weak.
"Knock it off, you little bastards!" I shouted and moved fast.
Too late. The boy lost his footing and hit the water.
"Help!" He thrashed, arms flailing.
The other kids scattered like roaches. The director, wheezing behind me, grabbed them before they could run far.
I yanked off my jacket and dove in. My clothes soaked through instantly. But I didn't have a choice. I hated kids, sure, but I couldn't let something happen at an event I was funding. I reached the boy and pulled him to shore.
"Mr. Petrov, are you all right?" The director hovered, concerned.
"I'm fine. The kid's probably shaken up." I looked at the coughing boy.
"I already called his guardian. She'll be here soon. I'm so sorry about this. I never thought those kids would—" She glanced at the line of guilty heads in the distance. "I'll make sure they're disciplined."
The director left. I could hear her tearing into the little shits.
"Thanks for saving me." The boy's eyes were bright. "You're cool. Tall and strong."
I raised an eyebrow. He wasn't flattering me. Just stating facts.
"How old are you? They pick on you a lot?"
"Eight. They waste their time." He shrugged, unconcerned.
"You almost drowned."
"So I learned something." He wrung out his shirt. "Next time, I'll stay away from the water first."
"Not 'don't get in fights'?"
"That's not realistic." He wrinkled his nose.
I stared at him for two seconds. This kid was skinny as hell but had a spine. First time I'd met an eight-year-old I didn't want to throttle.
"You want to be like me, eat more."
He batted my hand away and smoothed his hair back down.
"As long as whoever's cooking isn't trying to poison me, I'm happy to cooperate." He wiped his face and grinned, teeth showing.
His short hair stuck to his forehead, brown eyes squeezed into crescents. Something about that face felt familiar.
We didn't wait long. A familiar figure came running from the distance.
Briony. What the hell was she doing here?
"Rory!" She rushed over, face flushed, bent over with her hands on her knees, gasping. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
She checked him over head to toe. Only when she confirmed he was fine did her shoulders relax. Then the director said "thanks to Mr. Petrov," and she froze. Slowly, she looked up. When her eyes met mine, they went wide.
My shirt was soaked through. Her gaze lingered longer than polite, and my body instantly remembered the feeling of her fingers trailing across my chest.
Fuck. She didn't even need to touch me.
"What are you doing here?" She tried to sound calm. "You saved—"
"What are you to Rory?" The question came out fast. Too fast.
Not my business, obviously. But the director said she was Rory's guardian. A strange tightness gripped my chest, like I was bracing for something brutal.
Briony opened her mouth. "I'm his—"
"Mom." Rory cut in, looking up at me. "She's my mom."
The ringing in my ears came back, like water flooding in. Mom?
Briony was twenty-three. Rory was eight. The math hit me like a punch, bringing a cold, hard rage with it.
I looked at her. She shot Rory a glare, then glanced at me.
"Yes," she said. "Thank you for saving my... son."
She confirmed it. The tightness in my chest turned to a stabbing pain. What had happened to her? How could she have had a kid so young? If there was force involved, I'd hunt down that nameless bastard myself.
"Just doing what needed doing," I said.
"You probably didn't bring spare clothes. You're soaked from saving Rory. Want to come to our place and change? It's nearby. Better than staying wet."
I'd planned to leave once the guardian arrived. Now I changed my mind.
She and Rory lived in an old apartment building nearby. The door opened to a faded leather couch and a worn coffee table.
Everything was old but not dirty. The torn armrest had been carefully stitched. The wobbly table leg had folded cardboard wedged under it. There was even a vase of flowers on the table. Whoever lived here loved life.
"Rory, dry your hair." Briony tossed him a light gray towel, then handed me a white one. "Sorry, this is all I've got."
I took the towel and pressed it to my hair. Faint lemon soap scent—same as hers. This was probably hers. I breathed it in deep, imagining her sitting on my face. If she actually did, I'd die happy, smothered by her scent and softness.
"And this." She handed me a neatly folded set of men's clothes. "Makar left these. They'll have to do."
Makar. That name killed the heat in my gut. I stared at the clothes. Didn't take them.
"You still have his stuff?" My voice came out lower than I intended.
"Just some clothes I forgot to deal with." She looked confused.
"Even after the wedding, you didn't think about it?"
She clearly heard the edge in my tone and shoved the clothes into my chest. "Are you wearing them or not?"
Her knuckles brushed my arm. Just once, then she tried to pull back. I caught her wrist first.
Her breath hitched. She glanced at Rory, who'd stopped drying his hair. "Varlam."
I didn't care about Rory's reaction.
"What else of his are you keeping?"
"Nothing."
"Look at me when you say it."
She met my eyes, annoyed. "Some clothes. That's it. Happy?"
"Getting there." I watched her ears turn red, then let go.
She grabbed Rory's shoulder and pulled him into the bedroom. Shut the door fast, like she was escaping something. I changed into Makar's T-shirt and shorts. Too small. The fabric stretched tight over my body.
I could hear Briony gently coaxing Rory to change clothes. Her tone was soft and patient—nothing like how she'd just spoken to me.
I'd settle the score with Rory's biological father eventually. But Makar was just as bad. He'd seen her holding this place together alone, taking care of a kid, keeping everything neat. Then he chose to abandon her and make her everyone's joke. And she still had his clothes in her apartment.
I tugged at the fabric straining across my chest. I should've punched that bastard at the wedding. An apology was too easy.
When the door opened again, Rory wore dry clothes. Briony followed, her gaze landing on me. She stopped.
"Hope we didn't keep you waiting." She walked to the cabinet, like she needed something to do. "Stay for dinner. You pulled Rory out of the water. You must be hungry."
Rory immediately came over and lowered his voice. "Trust me, if you don't want food poisoning, stop her."
I looked at Briony, already holding a spatula. "How bad?"
"She can turn pasta into paste. Last time the smoke alarm went off for ten minutes. The neighbors thought the building was on fire." Rory looked dead serious. "So I usually suggest ordering in before she gets near the kitchen. Risk management."
"Hey." Before I could respond, Briony spoke from behind us.
Rory's shoulders hunched, but he didn't turn around. "We're exchanging survival tips."
"You're talking shit about me." She put her hands on her hips. "I heard everything."
"I wasn't talking shit." Rory turned, face innocent. "I was stating facts."
Briony rushed over and messed up his hair. Rory yelled for her to stop while insisting he wasn't lying. I watched them bicker and felt something I'd never felt before—peace. Calm. They didn't have a nice house or new furniture. But when they were together, this cramped living room was alive.
When I came back to myself, I was smiling.
"I've got a restaurant nearby," I offered. "Let's go there."
Rory's eyes lit up. Briony glared at him.
"You saved Rory. I can't make you buy us dinner too."
"I don't want my assistant wasting time in the kitchen." Before she could argue, I added, "Let's go."
Briony finally put down the spatula.
We went to a nearby Russian restaurant owned by Petrov Group. The manager recognized me and immediately moved to clear the place. One look from me stopped him.
Rory held the menu, checking prices first, then the dishes.
"Order whatever you want," I said.
"I need to assess carefully." He turned a page. "Wasting food is a sign of incompetence."
Briony tapped his menu. "Say thank you first."
"Thank you." Rory looked at me, then added, "Also, Makar's clothes don't fit you. Your muscles are about to rip through them."
Briony almost choked on her water. I glanced at my outfit. First time I'd ever gone to dinner dressed like this.
"You think so too?" I turned to Briony.
"I think Rory's talking too much today." She grabbed her napkin and wiped her mouth, but the heat on her face gave her away.
Rory looked between us, then went back to studying the menu, corner of his mouth lifting.
When the food came, he proved his assessment was right. Pumpkin cream soup and cheese pancakes disappeared from his plate. Briony told him to slow down. I thought about those brutal numbers in her file. The paperwork didn't give me much detail.
"Why do you owe so much?"
Her fork paused, then she speared a piece of smoked salmon. "My parents were in a car accident. Treatment cost a lot."
"They..."
She didn't look up. Just nodded once.
Rory slowed down too.
"It's better now." Briony put the fish in her mouth, swallowed, then continued. "My current salary covers the monthly loan and leaves a little extra. It's tight, but better than I expected."
No complaints. No asking for help. She talked about losing her parents, drowning in debt, and raising a kid like it was ordinary.
Something twisted in my gut.
I had the manager bring the checkbook. Tore off a check, wrote the amount, and pushed it toward her.
"I'll clear your debt."
She glanced at the check. Her brow furrowed immediately. "No."
"It's not a problem."
"It is for me." She pushed the check back. "Why would you help me? This has nothing to do with you."
Her refusal wasn't playing hard to get. That only made me want to shove that check into her hands more.
"Raising a kid alone is hard enough." I picked up my white wine, pushing down the protective instinct I had no business feeling. "Consider it compensation from me on Makar's behalf."
Honestly, I didn't know why I was doing this. Maybe because I couldn't stand watching my assistant struggle like this.
Even though I knew damn well I wasn't that kind.
"She does work hard." Rory chewed his pancake, words muffled. "Especially after her parents died."
Briony's fingers immediately tapped his head lightly.
"Rory, watch your mouth. Those were your parents too."
My glass stopped at my lips. What did she mean, his parents too? I knew it was a stupid question. I set down the glass, looking between them. Briony closed her eyes briefly, looking embarrassed.
"Sorry." Her voice softened. "Actually, Rory's my brother."
Rory put down his fork, meeting my eyes with stubborn defiance. "You're a Mr. Petrov too, same as that Human Volcano. I just didn't want Briony running into another bad man."
So that was it. Good kid. He was trying to protect his only family.
"Rory, you did well." I looked him in the eye. "You protected your sister."
Briony was clearly stunned. Rory's mouth lifted, then he quickly pressed it down.
Relief flooded my chest. Briony wasn't anyone's mother. Nothing bad had happened to her.
Good. The thought came too fast and too honest.
What the fuck was I so happy about? That the man I'd imagined didn't exist? Or that I could fuck her without complications?
I looked at her and finally admitted something more troublesome than desire.
I cared about her.