Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Varlam
I watched Briony drop to her knees and start mopping up the water. Her blonde hair slipped over her shoulder, blocking her view. She tucked it behind her ear without thinking.
She bit her lip, spine rigid. I could see the hurt she was burying under all that stubbornness. Unlike Brinny, whose vulnerability was the kind that made people want to protect her the moment they saw her.
I wouldn't doubt what Brinny said. She couldn't lie. At least, the Brinny I knew couldn't.
She'd been everyone's angel growing up. Family gatherings always reeked of liquor, cigars, and old men cutting deals. She was the only one who'd slip away from all those fake smiles and find me in the garden.
When I was fifteen, my father locked me in the basement for a whole night after I lost a sparring match to an older kid. I was still bleeding from the fight. Everyone said I deserved the lesson. Only Brinny crouched in front of me, blowing gently on my wounds over and over.
No one had ever treated me like that.
Later, as my father's demands got harsher, I learned to hide the pain, learned never to show weakness. But Brinny still showed up every time I got hurt. She didn't ask questions, didn't flinch, didn't treat me like a monster.
How could a girl like that lie about someone she'd barely met?
But from what I'd seen of Briony these past few days, she didn't seem like the type to throw water at someone on purpose either. She had a temper, a sharp mouth, wore every emotion on her face—but she wouldn't take her frustration out on someone she hardly knew.
The two judgments crashed together in my head. My temple throbbed.
Maybe the water was just an accident. Briony had a short fuse; Brinny was too sensitive. A gesture got misread, words got heated, and it all spiraled into this. That was the only explanation that made sense.
Brinny didn't lie. She just misunderstood Briony's intention. And Briony didn't mean to hurt anyone. She was just too stubborn to back down when she was angry.
Besides, Brinny's health had always been fragile. Her heart couldn't take much stress. When she was little, just running a few steps would drain the color from her face. Whatever happened today, calming her down mattered most.
"I'm done." Briony stood, her voice unnaturally flat. "Anything else, Mr. Petrov?"
That distant title made the irritation in my chest spike. A few days ago, she'd been wrapping her arms around my neck, gasping my name while I kissed her. Now she was shoving formality between us like a reminder—I was just her boss.
"If not, I'll go deliver these files." She picked up the stack from the desk.
When she brushed past me, that familiar scent made my body go tense. My fingers twitched. But Briony walked straight out.
The door clicked shut behind her. I started to go after her.
"Cold..." Brinny's voice stopped me.
She was shaking hard. Her face had gone even paler, her lips bloodless.
I lifted her and carried her to the office sofa. She was so light, arms looped around my neck, body practically weightless. I set her down carefully, then pressed my hand to her forehead. No fever, but she was ice-cold.
I pulled out my phone and told Gleb to bring up women's clothes. Brinny was thin enough to fit into almost anything.
"Get those wet clothes off and put this on." I draped my suit jacket over her. "Your body temperature's dropping too fast."
"You used to help me." She stared at my jacket without moving.
"You were a kid then." I handed her the blanket from beside the sofa. "Cover your legs first."
Once I was sure Brinny was stable, I moved to a respectable distance and turned my back.
Behind me, the sound of a zipper sliding down, slow and deliberate.
I kept my eyes on the floor-to-ceiling windows, but Briony's image—kneeling stubbornly on the floor—kept flashing through my mind. Had her eyes been wet? What was she doing right now? Then a soft body pressed against my back. My muscles locked. Brinny's arms circled my waist.
"I'm so cold, Varlam." Her breath grazed my neck. "Hold me. Warm me up. Please?"
I turned around and found her standing naked in front of me. She really was thin—flat chest, ribs faintly visible, slender legs pressed together. Sometimes I worried a strong wind would blow her away.
She arched toward me, fingers trailing down my chest to my abs. She wanted to go lower. I caught her wrist gently. She tilted her face up, blue eyes glazed with moisture, silently asking why I was refusing her.
"Don't you want me?" she asked.
I pulled her into my arms, palm covering her bare back. Her delicate skin trembled under my touch. Brinny was the softest part of my life. Even with her naked against me, all I saw was the girl who used to bandage my wounds in the garden.
Her body temperature was too low. All my focus went to her rapid breathing. I carried her back to the sofa and covered her with my jacket.
Brinny froze. She stared at me without blinking, expression like she'd witnessed something incomprehensible.
"There's no way I don't want you." I tightened the jacket around her.
She relaxed a little. Her thin frame looked even more fragile swallowed up in that oversized garment.
"Varlam..." Her hand emerged from under the jacket and wrapped around my arm. "I feel like you've changed. You never used to be this cold with me. You never refused me."
As she spoke, her bare chest pressed against my forearm. Through her breasts, I could almost feel her ribs moving. The jacket slipped with her movement, exposing the sharp line of her spine all the way down to her hips.
Brinny ignored the fallen jacket and climbed onto my lap. Through the fabric of my dress pants, I could feel her grinding her lower body against my thigh.
Her temperature had risen. Her nipples stood erect from arousal.
"Ah, Varlam..." She moaned, color finally returning to her pale face and lips. "I want you."
A wet, needy whimper spilled from her mouth. Her eyes went hazy. Logically, faced with a beautiful naked woman, I should've had the reaction any normal man would have—pure instinct taking over.
But the woman on my lap was Brinny. I'd never seen her like this. She was supposed to be pure, sacred. What had she been through to think this was the only way to reach me? I felt no desire. Only a heavy weight crushing my chest.
"That's enough, Brinny." I gripped her thin waist and lifted her off me. "What you need right now isn't me. It's rest. You're exhausted."
She sat on the sofa, stunned and hurt. I couldn't stand seeing her wounded, but I couldn't let this continue. I draped the jacket over her again.
My phone buzzed. Gleb was downstairs.
"Wait here. I'll go get your clothes."
"Can't someone just bring them in?"
"No."
I wouldn't let any man see her like this. Even covered up, I wasn't risking Gleb walking through that door.
I stood and left the office, heading for the elevator.
It arrived quickly. I stepped inside and stopped.
Briony stood at the back, clutching a stack of files.
When she saw me, she straightened immediately, those magnificent breasts pressed against the papers, her full, round ass hidden beneath her skirt.
Her eyes were wary, arms tightening, and the movement made her hem ride up slightly, exposing the fleshy curve where her thighs met her body. That bare skin seemed to invite my touch, begging me to feel its warmth and softness.
The elevator doors slid shut. The air turned stifling. My throat itched.
"Why are you still here?" I thought she'd left hours ago.
"It's working hours. Is it weird that I'm in the company elevator?" Her eyebrows shot up, chest thrust out even higher.
"I don't remember giving you work that required running around."
"Of course you don't remember." She clutched the files tighter. "Your mind's too busy with that woman in your office to remember what I'm supposed to be doing."
Her barbed tone stabbed at something in my chest.
"Watch how you talk to your boss." I moved closer, stopping one step away.
I only had to dip my head slightly to see straight down into the bottomless valley of her cleavage. Her chest rose and fell dramatically, those lively eyes never leaving my face.
"Oh really?" She didn't back down an inch, chin tilted up. "Boss, shouldn't you be in your office comforting your fragile ex-girlfriend? What are you doing down here?"
I didn't know why, but those words made my chest ache.
My gaze traveled from the flush on her cheeks, past her slightly wrinkled nose, and landed on her constantly moving lips. They were full, flushed, looked sweet and soft—but kept spitting out such cutting words.
Fuck. I should bite that mouth right now, kiss her hard, shove every nasty sentence back down her throat.