Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Briony
As long as he lived, he'd never let me die. Varlam's promise pressed down on my heart like a weight.
My mind went blank. Would the elevator keep falling? Would Rory wait for me after school and I'd never show? Those questions had been tearing at my nerves moments ago, but now they'd been shoved somewhere far away. All I could feel was him.
His palm cradled the back of my head, the heat seeping through my hair like some kind of hard barrier. I didn't know if he could actually command death to pass us by, but my body had already decided to believe him. Probably the stupidest thing I'd ever done.
His kiss deepened. The nausea from the freefall still churned in my stomach, but his clean breath pushed it down.
When I couldn't breathe, he pulled back half an inch, nose against mine.
The second I drew in air, he lowered his head and kissed me again, like even my breathing rhythm was his to control.
I should've pushed him away.
Someone could come through that door any second. The elevator might drop again. A woman was waiting for him in his office. Every reason was enough to make me stop. But I threaded my fingers through his silver-gray hair and let him take what he wanted.
I'd always thought safety came from steady paychecks, paid bills, a lit home waiting for Rory after school. It shouldn't come from a man who was too controlling, had a shit temper, and kept too many secrets. But right now, one kiss lifted me out of fear.
I hated the feeling. Couldn't stand to lose it. If we were really going to die, dying with Varlam didn't sound so bad.
My hand slid down, fingertips brushing the hard muscle beneath his shirt.
"Fuck me, Varlam." I gasped it out between kisses.
"You sure?" His voice came out rough.
This man could always find his control at the worst, most chaotic moments. That restraint had been ground into him by years and danger. I didn't have it. The calmer he stayed, the wilder my heartbeat got. He stared at me like he was giving me one last exit. But my body only pressed closer.
"You're asking now? Weren't you the one who shoved your hand under my clothes?"
Varlam's gaze went completely dark.
My back hit the elevator wall again. One hand protected my head, the other slid down my waist and gripped my thigh.
He ducked his head and bit my lower lip, then worked his way down to my neck.
I tilted my head back, felt every sharp, stinging kiss.
Danger still hung over us, but all I wanted was for him to keep using his body to calm me down.
My hand moved between his legs. He was hard—rock solid. I stroked him through the fabric of his slacks, felt him pulse under my palm, the thick length of him twitching against my touch like it had a will of its own. His breath hissed out against my neck, hot and ragged.
"Christ, Briony." His fingers hooked into my underwear and dragged it down, letting it hang around my thighs. I couldn't close my knees; they trembled too hard.
Then his hand was between my legs. Two fingers pushed inside without warning. I could hear it—the wet sound of him moving in me. Obscene. My face burned, but I couldn't make myself care.
"You're soaked," he muttered against my mouth. "Did the elevator scare you this much, or is this all for me?" His voice was low, rough, the words vibrating against my lips.
"Shut up." My nails dug into his shoulders through his shirt, clutching hard enough to leave marks I hoped he would feel for days.
"You want me to stop?" He twisted his fingers, dragging a choked gasp out of me. The pressure was relentless, perfect, and I hated how easily he owned every reaction.
"Don't you fucking dare."
He added a third finger. The stretch burned for half a second before it turned into something else.
Something that made my knees shake. Fullness and friction collided, sending heat flooding low in my belly until I felt light-headed.
His thumb found my clit and rubbed in tight circles while his fingers kept moving inside me.
I buried my face in his shoulder, muffling the sounds I couldn't hold back—broken little whimpers that still escaped, traitorous and needy.
"That's it," he growled. "Let me feel you." The words rumbled through his chest and into mine.
His fingers pumped faster, harder. The wet sounds got louder, shameless, echoing off the mirrored walls.
My whole body pulled tight like a string about to snap.
Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until I was shaking all over.
I bit down on his shoulder through his shirt, tasting fabric and feeling the solid muscle underneath flex as he worked me.
He didn't slow down. If anything, he went harder, curling those fingers just so, grinding his thumb in ruthless circles that made stars burst behind my closed eyes.
"Come on my hand, Briony. Let me feel how tight you get." The command was pure sin, low and certain.
I was right there. Right on the edge. My thighs trembled, my breathing came in ragged gasps. Every muscle locking, that final wave already cresting—
Ding.
A sharp, clear sound cut through the elevator.
I froze. Varlam stopped.
The scrambled numbers on the display screen suddenly became clear digits. The car gave a gentle shake, and the mechanical hum started up beneath our feet, smooth as if the plummet had never happened. Reality crashed back—maintenance workers were probably right outside that door.
And I was half-naked in the corner of an elevator with my boss.
Varlam moved first. He pulled his hand out, efficient. My body went hollow, stuck right there on the edge. He straightened my clothes, then stepped back. Now he looked exactly like the Mr. Petrov who made everyone hold their breath.
My heart was still slamming against my ribs, but he'd used a few breaths to turn back into the composed boss. That calm left an empty space in my chest.
"Sir, can you hear me? Control system's restored. The car will stop at the nearest floor. Someone will be waiting outside." The intercom crackled to life.
"Got it." Varlam glanced at the display, voice giving nothing away.
I picked up the scattered files from the floor. His tie still lay there. Neither of us mentioned what just happened.
I stared at the changing numbers, forcing my breathing to even out.
The car slowed to a stop. The metal doors slid open. And I saw Brinny kneeling outside. She'd changed into a fresh pale dress, her feet bare. Several maintenance workers stood behind her, looking awkward and helpless.
When she saw Varlam, tears spilled down her face.
"Varlam." Her voice came out soft, like it might break if you touched it. "I thought something happened to you."
Before I could react, the man beside me moved. Varlam stepped over the threshold and went straight to her. I followed him out, feeling like I didn't belong.
"I'm fine." He crouched down and gripped her shoulders, voice low. "Are you? Does your chest hurt?"
She shook her head. The tears fell harder.
"Mr. Petrov, we're very sorry. The malfunction's been temporarily fixed." The lead technician's voice came out tight. "We'll seal this elevator immediately and run full diagnostics. Once the control system's completely restored, it'll be back in service."
Varlam nodded, expression unchanged.
"This young lady rushed down from upstairs when she heard about the malfunction. When she learned the car had dropped, she knelt here crying. We tried to convince her to leave, but she wouldn't move."
Varlam looked down at Brinny's bare feet. Her heels were scraped raw. I watched him worry over her, and my stomach cramped.
"You're not well. How could you come out here on your own?" Varlam's brows drew together. There was no reproach in his voice, only the concern he could no longer conceal.
"I was so worried about you." She could barely breathe through the crying. "They said the elevator fell. I thought... I thought I'd never see you again."
"Your feet are hurt." Varlam sighed like he didn't know what to do with her. "Don't move. I'll take you back and treat them."
He slid one arm under her knees, the other around her waist, and lifted her. The movement was careful—not like picking up a grown woman, more like cradling something fragile that couldn't be bumped. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
I watched them walk away again. This time hurt worse than the last. Because I knew his promise hadn't been fake. When the elevator dropped, he'd thrown his body over mine without hesitation. He'd looked me in the eye and said he'd get me out. He'd kissed me gently and told me not to be afraid.
He cared about me. At least for those few minutes, he must have cared.
But the second Brinny showed up, he became someone else.
One look from her and this man who didn't give a damn about anyone would soften his voice, drop everything.
All his hard edges folded away for her—probably an instinct he'd developed years ago.
And I was just an accident that stumbled into his life.
They had a whole history I wasn't part of.
My chest felt like it was splitting open.
"Miss, it's over now." One of the maintenance workers studied my face and hesitated. "You look pretty shaken up. Maybe you should rest."
"I'm fine." I forced a smile at the maintenance worker and turned toward the stairs.
My knees were weak. I almost fell. The worker caught my arm.
I straightened immediately, unwilling to let more strangers see me like this.
I needed to wash the tear tracks off my face, wash away the warmth of Varlam's mouth on mine.
Better yet, scrub out that damned promise of his from my brain and send it down the drain too.
I climbed several flights of stairs. By the time I reached the top floor, a strange calm had settled over me.
Getting to the bathroom meant passing his office. I planned to slip by quickly, but the door wasn't fully closed.
"It's just a little scrape. Doesn't hurt." Brinny's soft voice drifted through the gap, pinning my feet to the floor.
"Why weren't you wearing shoes?" Varlam's voice came out low.
I couldn't see his expression, only caught a corner of the couch through the crack in the door.
She sat on the couch. He knelt in front of her, holding her foot while he treated the wound.
"I forgot. When I heard the elevator malfunctioned and dropped to the seventeenth floor, I just ran. I was so worried about you. I only wanted to see you as fast as I could."
"Don't do that again," he said.
It sounded like a reprimand, but all I heard was indulgence. My stomach turned sour.
She murmured agreement, then sighed.
"Thank God you're okay. Otherwise I wouldn't know what to do." She paused like something occurred to her. "You always protect me like this. Even your second-in-command treats me with respect. Varlam, you always do these things quietly."
My breath stopped. I wanted to leave, but my feet wouldn't obey. Like if I didn't hear the answer, I wouldn't have to accept it.
"When he brought me the clothes, he deliberately looked away." A little laugh colored her voice. "Like you'd gouge his eyes out if he looked too long."
The room spun. Then I heard Varlam answer. "Of course. You're important to me. Everyone knows how to act."
Every word came through clear.
My heart felt like it had been run through with the sharpest knife.
Her body shouldn't be seen by other men. Her vulnerability shouldn't be exposed to anyone. She deserved to be carried back to his office personally. And me?
Varlam forced his kiss on me, shoved up my clothes in an elevator that could open any second. He never wondered if maintenance workers might be standing outside that door, never asked if I'd be humiliated if someone caught us.
Of course he understood respect and restraint. He just didn't waste them on me.
He probably thought I was strong enough. Could take the humiliation, could stand back up after getting hurt again and again. So he could take me roughly and turn away without guilt.
That brief sweetness of being protected by him turned completely bitter.
My lungs felt stuffed with broken glass, every breath cutting deep.
Varlam's tenderness had always belonged to someone else.
I'd just glimpsed a corner of it at the wrong time and thought it meant he cared. I'd been so fucking wrong.
I clenched my jaw, refusing to let myself cry.