Jetmir
CHAPTER TEN
I turned my head and narrowed my eyes as she and Gabriel approached us. It didn’t slip my attention how he relied on Amara to guide him, or how his eyes still carried that blank look about them.
“Why does everyone keep asking the same fucking question?” I grunted.
“Well, it’s a valid question,” Amara retorted dryly.
“It’s a peace treaty between the Volkovs, Tijuanas, DiLustros, and Santoses. Last I checked, I was a Volkov,” I stated matter-of-factly.
“You’ll be a dead Volkov-slash-Tijuana, if you don’t get out of here,” Gabriel muttered, his gaze unfocused.
Damn it, if I could turn back time, I would have done things differently. But that was neither here nor there, and I’d paid the price too. I was still paying it.
But that didn’t mean I’d given up on my wife. In fact, I’d lurked in the shadows, stalking Anya before we met and that habit didn’t stop when she left me. One way or another, I would get my wife back. I would crawl on my knees if I had to.
“Let’s not threaten him,” Amara whispered. “This is supposed to be a truce get-together.”
“Thank God my sister isn’t a Volkov,” Gabriel bit out, his expression dark. “Or Tijuana. Whatever the fuck you are. And you better not be harassing her, Volkov. There’s a reason she’s your ex-wife.”
Riotous anger flashed through me and I wanted to smash Gabriel’s pretty face into the marble floors of this ballroom. But I didn’t. I’d caused him enough damage.
Besides, I’d be the last one laughing.
With a clenched jaw, I watched Gabriel pull his sister into a hug. She let him, but there was a slight tension in her body. I read her body’s responses like an open book. I might have not had her for three years, but I knew her. Better than anyone.
“He wasn’t bothering me,” she murmured quickly. Amara’s eyebrow shot up, clearly trying to gauge what was going on. “We were just talking.”
She shot me a narrowed look full off… well, fuck it… it was full of detest. She truly hated me, but there was another thing in the depths of her eyes that she couldn’t hide. It was the starvation, the very same one I felt for her. This fucking obsession… it was mutual.
Thank fucking God!
“About?” Gabriel questioned, interrupting my revelation.
“None of your business,” she answered curtly.
“Her upcoming birthday,” I answered at the same time. “Are Frenchies still on your wish list?”
My wife glared at me.
“You… you…” She couldn’t find words to blurt out, which told me she suspected the gift was mine. The fact she kept it gave me hope. I made sure I picked out the most adorable, loving Frenchie and it paid off.
“The words you’re looking for are thank you,” I drawled.
“Why would she say that?” Gabriel demanded.
“No reason,” Anya answered quickly. “Just ignore him.”
A blush crept up her neck, turning her creamy skin crimson.
It was fucking adorable. She was always beautiful, inside out.
But tonight, she shined. Her dress hugged her curves in all the right places and showed off the dip at her waist I used to drag my tongue over.
Her hair shone like white gold, tempting me to wrap it around my fists like I knew she loved.
My angel cleaned up well, but we both knew how devious and filthy she was between the sheets.
My cock hardened and for a moment I debated whether to kick off my plan tonight.
There was nothing I wanted more than to take her away from this stuffy gathering.
She had inked herself into my bloodstream and refused to leave me.
She was like a fucking enchantress, casting spells and refusing to let go.
That innocent, vulnerable look of hers, the way she carried her softness on her sleeve—it all drew me in.
She was a beautiful woman, but that vulnerability and softness was what brought men to their knees.
Everything about her made my cock hard. And the way she raised that haughty chin of hers, a look of sheer defiance in her eyes… Fuck, it was enough to make me spill.
“Don’t you worry about my sister’s birthday, Volkov,” Gabriel said coldly. Too fucking late. “She’ll celebrate it with her friends and family, which doesn’t include you.”
He took Anya’s hand while Amara shot me an apologetic look, and the three of them left without sparing me a backward glance.
I gritted my molars and let the anger roll off my shoulders. It wouldn’t bode well if I descended into rage mode. Not yet. It wasn’t the time to claim ownership of Anya Santos. Or should I say Volkov.
I’d waited long enough for her. Soon, I’d show the world that my wife belonged by my side.
Forever.