Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Briony
That day at the summer camp felt like a dream—appearing without warning, then vanishing just as fast. I hadn't seen Varlam for days after.
He'd sent evening gowns and jewelry to my office during that time, but never showed up himself at the company. Until today, when he had me ride with him to this opulent banquet hall.
The moment we stepped into the event, people swarmed Varlam. He wore a classic black suit with a matching tie patterned with subtle prints, his short hair carefully slicked back. Just standing there, he became the center of everything.
I knew damn well I didn't belong in a place like this. So when Varlam indicated I could take a break, I escaped to a quiet corner like I'd been released from prison. Sipping expensive champagne, indulging in food I could rarely afford.
"Briony?" A voice I knew too well cut through the air. "Never thought I'd see you here."
Who else but Chloe could make surprise sound like mockery?
"Nice to see there's still a dress that fits you." She approached, her tone sweet as if she meant it as a compliment. "Makes you look like you belong with the upper class."
"Didn't expect to run into you either." I gave her a once-over. "That clutch is eye-catching. Goes with your whole look today."
She wore a pink gown, carried a feathered purse, and her earrings and necklace were large baroque pearls—clearly expensive. If you ignored her smug expression, it was actually a stunning outfit.
"You're still so sensitive." She laughed, tapping my shoulder. Her long manicured nails dug in painfully. "I'm just curious who brought you in. Please don't tell me it's another rich man?"
"How's that your business?" I shot her a look. "Or are you planning to go after someone else's boyfriend again?"
I couldn't figure out why Chloe fixated on me, couldn't stand to see me doing even slightly well.
Her smile finally dropped. She deliberately pointed toward a balding man staring at me, loudly feigning shock. "Don't tell me he brought you! When did your taste sink this low?"
Several nearby guests turned to look at us.
"Though I guess for a guy like that, your body type's probably exotic." She kept going, as if she'd already decided I was that man's date.
"What's wrong with my body?" I set down my glass before I actually threw champagne in her face.
Right now, I wore an apricot gown that hugged every curve. Even Varlam had told me in the car I was driving him crazy. But Chloe wanted to tear me down, like always.
Memories flooded back. I'd finally worked up the courage to wear a bodycon dress to a party once. Everyone said I looked beautiful—except Chloe, who announced in front of everyone that my waist was all flab. Then she'd pulled me aside, warning me not to believe the compliments.
"That's just politeness. If you actually believe them, they'll laugh at you behind your back." She'd sounded so sincere then, like she cared.
Now I saw it clearly. Everything came from jealousy. She was jealous of me, so she tore me down.
"You really don't see yourself clearly, do you? You think wearing an expensive dress hides how cheap you look?" She snorted. "Briony, dressing up doesn't change the fact that you're dumpy."
"I see myself just fine." I looked right at her. "So I know you're not attacking me because I look bad. You're doing it because I look too good today."
Saying it out loud, that invisible chain around me snapped. I realized that with Varlam's influence, I'd started accepting and loving my body.
The contempt on Chloe's face froze.
"You spent years telling me I was fat and ugly, that everyone complimenting me was lying. But the real liar was you. You couldn't stand anyone thinking I was pretty."
More eyes turned our way. Some guests even started quietly discussing Chloe's manipulations. She hated being embarrassed—that polished exterior cracking under her own cruelty.
"What the hell are you saying?" She lowered her voice in warning.
"You're jealous of me." I laid it bare. "Otherwise you wouldn't have stolen my boyfriend. And you wouldn't be here now, making sure I'm doing worse than you."
I glanced at Makar in the distance. He was looking at me over Chloe's shoulder, his expression conflicted.
"Go back to your husband." I smiled. "He's been staring at me for a while now. Stay here any longer, and everyone will know—even after stealing him, you're still worried he wants me."
Chloe whipped around to look at Makar. When she turned back to me, only frustration and anger remained.
She glared for a few seconds, then finally turned and stalked toward Makar.
That pressure I'd carried for years eased just a bit. But noticing the lingering stares around us, I started worrying. I'd come to this gala as Varlam's assistant. Would that confrontation make me look trashy? Would it reflect badly on him and the company?
"You did well." A low voice came from beside me.
Varlam had appeared at my side, bringing whiskey and cold cedar with him.
"You heard all that?" I felt guilty. "I didn't mean to cause a scene at your event."
"I'm just saying you looked more beautiful making her shut up than I expected." He glanced toward Chloe and Makar.
Heat crept up my neck. His approval made me feel like a kid getting praised by a teacher for the first time, unable to stop smiling.
"Makar!" Chloe's shrill voice carried from across the room. "That bitch humiliated me and you just stood there?"
Makar looked our way, frowning. "You went after her first."
"So it's my fault? Shouldn't you defend your wife?"
"I think you should shut up." His voice dripped with impatience. "Stop embarrassing me."
Chloe froze. When she spoke again, her tone had shifted to wheedling.
"I just wanted to say hello. I didn't think she'd get mad." Chloe moved to take his arm. Makar stepped aside, dodging her.
Then he walked away, leaving Chloe standing alone. She stared after him and stamped her foot hard.
The whole scene was painfully boring. I told Varlam I was stepping away and headed off, lifting my skirt. All that champagne was holding an emergency meeting in my stomach—I needed the restroom to handle this internal crisis.
But when I came out, I stopped short.
Makar stood in the hallway. He wore a light brown suit, one hand in his pocket, shoulder against the wall—like he'd been waiting. Hearing footsteps, he looked up but didn't speak immediately. When he went quiet like that, you could see a trace of Varlam in his features. Just a trace.
So why was he here? To defend Chloe? I took half a step back. The distance cleared my head. I was probably overreacting. Maybe he was waiting for Chloe? If he wanted to confront me, he would've done it earlier.
I kept my head down and walked forward, praying he wouldn't notice me. Nothing good ever came from running into him and Chloe.
But as I passed him, he grabbed my arm.
"Briony, I need to talk to you."
"We have nothing to talk about." I tried to pull away. He gripped tighter.
"I'm sorry." He looked down at me. "Chloe said some insulting things to you earlier."
My brain went blank.
Makar—arrogant, never-wrong Makar—was apologizing to me? I almost laughed.
"This is how you apologize to a woman?" I looked at his hand. "By grabbing her?"
He let go quickly.
"I just want to talk." His eyes traced my face, then slid down to my chest and waist. "I wanted to tell you—you look beautiful tonight."
Varlam's compliments made me feel good. Makar's just made me sick.
In the months we dated, he never complimented me once. Every time I wore something fitted, he'd stare at my waist and tell me to eat less. Now he was looking at me with that sticky gaze.
"Thanks." I gave him a token response and moved to leave. "I need to get back to the gala."
"Wait." He stepped in front of me again, blocking my path. "You still like me, don't you? Why else would you dress so sexy and parade around me? Why else start a fight with Chloe to get my attention?"
I almost laughed at the absurdity. This man had twisted everything—my dress, my pushback, even Chloe's abuse—into some declaration of love for him. How had I never noticed how narcissistic he was?
"I don't like you anymore. And I regret ever liking you." I spoke each word clearly. "What I wear has nothing to do with you. I fought back because she humiliated me first, not to impress you."
"Don't play games, sweetheart." He laughed, eyes dropping to my chest again. "You succeeded. You got me going, made me want you more than before, made me regret breaking up with you."
What was he even saying? Had he lost his mind?
"You're disgusting."
"You won't say that after I kiss you."
He yanked me toward him. When his breath—reeking of alcohol—hit my face, my stomach almost turned.
He grabbed my chin, his face getting closer. I turned my head with all my strength. His lips grazed my cheekbone. But he clearly wasn't giving up. I beat at his chest. He trapped my hands.
"Makar, you fucking asshole!" I brought my knee up.
He grunted in pain but didn't let go. I could only watch helplessly as his lips came toward mine.
God, I'd rather get bitten by a pig.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Through my struggling, I heard a voice filled with rage.
Varlam strode up, expression murderous. Those steel-gray eyes held a savagery I'd never seen before. His fist flew faster than I could track, landing square on Makar's face.
I heard the crack of bone. Makar stumbled back clutching his nose, screaming, blood dripping on the floor.
"Get out." The words scraped cold from Varlam's throat.
Makar seemed about to say something, but seeing Varlam's violence, he swallowed it. He looked at Varlam, then at me—a long, hard look—before finally storming off. His figure disappeared around the corner.
My body went weak. If Varlam hadn't shown up, Makar might've done worse.
"You're okay now." Varlam pulled me close.
The cool scent of him was instantly calming.
On the way back, Varlam's hand stayed pressed against the small of my back. When curious or prying eyes fell on me, I straightened my spine.
Then a woman blocked our path. She wore a floor-length magenta gown, hair swept up high, neck and wrists dripping with ostentatious diamonds.
"Varlam, how could you hit your brother?" The woman seemed completely unafraid of him. "Makar's your father's blood too."
"Camilla, I respect you because you're my father's widow. That doesn't mean you get to let Makar run wild." His voice dropped. "Before you blame me, you should ask what he did."
Widow? My mind raced. The woman looked around Varlam's age.
I'd heard Makar mention that his mother was much younger than his father, and after his father died, he'd lived with her.
So she couldn't be Varlam's mother... which meant she was Varlam's stepmother.
Varlam and Makar weren't really brothers at all.
The woman gestured. Makar and Chloe, standing nearby, came forward. Makar's nose had been treated—still horrifically swollen, but at least not bleeding anymore.
"Varlam, look at this." Camilla stood on her toes, gently touching Makar's nose. "Whatever Makar did, you shouldn't have broken his nose. He's my only son. If he's disfigured, how will he find a suitable match?"
Chloe stood to the side, looking awkward. I suddenly understood why this mother doted on Makar but hadn't attended his wedding to Chloe. Maybe to her, that whole wedding was a joke.
"Didn't this asshole tell you he just tried to force himself on my woman?" Varlam glanced at Makar, who looked down guiltily. "Breaking his nose was letting him off easy."
Camilla's eyes went wide with outrage, like a princess who'd never been defied. Chloe immediately took her arm, soothing her gently.
Chloe's fawning didn't shock me anymore. What shocked me was what Varlam said. He'd called me his woman? My heart nearly jumped out of my throat. If we weren't in front of all these people, I definitely would've screamed.
"Impossible—Briony's just your assistant!" Makar looked up in disbelief.
"So remember her new status." Varlam's cold gaze swept over them in warning. "Anyone who touches her again will end up worse than Makar."
Makar and Chloe's expressions shifted visibly. Even Camilla's face became guarded. After a brief silence, they left.
"You're always rescuing me. I don't even know how to thank you anymore." I found my voice again. "But why'd you say that?"
With his status, he had a million other ways to warn them. But he chose this one. I couldn't help reading into it.
"Because you are mine." He said it like it was obvious.
My heart felt something it never had before.