JETMIR
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Anya didn’t say a word as I lifted her from the ground. She remained limp in my arms, her head coming to rest against my shoulder.
There were so many things I wanted to say to her.
I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I’d give anything to make this right. If it meant giving your brother the corneas from my own eyes, I’d do it without hesitation. Just… come back to me. Stay with me.
But every apology, every promise, every desperate plea caught somewhere between my heart and my throat.
In the end, not a single word escaped.
The silence in the villa only made those thoughts louder as my feet echoed against the marble floor. It was weird as fuck that we were both naked, but thankfully there were no witnesses since nobody lived on the island. That was by design.
First, I didn’t trust anyone—except for Elira—to stay with us here. Second, I wanted us to be alone while we worked through the speedbumps of our marriage and reconciliation.
Someone might call me delusional. I preferred determined.
It was due to my sheer determination that I successfully maneuvered handcuffs and pulled them off my wrists. Of course, they hurt like shit, but adrenaline as I ran after Anya numbed the pain. If I would have had to break my own wrists to uncuff myself, I totally would have.
I’d crawl on my broken knees and broken hands to get to my wife.
I knew there was no way for her to get off the island and I had security cameras located on every side of it so even if she went for a swim, I would have gotten to her eventually.
Jesus Christ.
I didn’t want to think about Anya swimming through these currents. Even a strong swimmer would struggle.
Pulling her closer to my chest, I carried her down the hallway until I reached our en suite bathroom.
The light cast a warm, golden glow across the white tile.
I eased her onto the edge of the bathtub, making sure she was steady before letting go.
She remained upright, her gaze focused on anything and everything but me while she twisted her hands in her lap.
The pipes groaned softly when I turned on the faucet before a stream of water splashed into the porcelain tub, echoing through the vast space.
Steam began to curl upward, carrying the familiar scent of lavender and vanilla as I poured in her favorite products.
The clear water churned into thick white foam, permeating the room with a strangely comforting fragrance and relieving some of the weight of the moment.
While the tub filled, I dipped a clean washcloth in a basin of lukewarm water. I wrung it out carefully until it was damp instead of dripping, then knelt in front of her.
Working slowly, I began gently wiping away the dirt and dried streaks that clung to her skin. I started with her feet and calves, lifting each one carefully in my hand. Then I moved to her thighs. A small shudder rocked her and I lifted my head to peer at her.
“Is that okay?” I rasped. Fuck, I loved her so much.
I was fully aware that I’d lost my temper when I went chasing after her.
The thought of losing her again had my mind spinning.
And then I’d fucked her like a goddamned madman, not a husband who loved and cherished his wife above everyone and everything.
She nodded her agreement and my shoulders slumped with relief.
I rinsed the cloth and then moved on to her hands, unfolding her fingers one at a time and wiping away the dirt that stuck to her porcelain skin.
When I reached her bound wrists, I went to relieve her of the restraints, but she yanked her wrists away.
“Leave them.”
Shit, something about that worried me even more.
But I did as she asked and washed around the rosary. The beads clicked softly together each time she shifted, the quiet sound somehow too loud. Or maybe that was my conscience screaming at me.
Once I lowered her into the bath, I sat behind her and flicked a glance at the mirror, the image we made like that of long-lost lovers. She was in my arms, yet felt like she couldn’t be further away from me.
I washed her hair, lathering it twice with shampoo, then slowly rinsed it off and combed my fingers through it. I repeated the action with the conditioner.
Neither of us spoke. There was only the trickling water, the scent of lavender drifting through the steam, and my wife’s silence.
I repressed the compulsion to claim her again like a savage animal, anything to lift this weight off my chest. My heart and soul felt as though they were shattering as I watched her sad ocean eyes in the mirror.
Instead of resolving our many issues, I’d somehow fucked things up even worse.
She met my gaze in the mirror and my heart cracked in half. They were dim, tired, the skin beneath them bruised. It made me feel like the devil everyone thought me to be and it rattled me down to my core.
I was okay being a monster and devil when it came to anyone else. But not her. Not my wife.
“Anya, I’m so sorry.”
“For what? Obviously I wanted it and…” Her dispassionate words trailed off and her lips started to tremble.
“Fuck, that’s not the way I wanted you to come back to me.” I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face into her wet hair. “I’ve been losing my mind since you left me. You’re all I think about. Day, night, awake and sleeping. I know I fucked up. Big-time. But I meant what I said.”
“You said many things, Jetmir,” she murmured, her voice still dispassionate. “You’ll have to refresh my memory. What would you have me believe now, hm?”
Ouch. But I fucking deserved that one.
“I’ll fix your brother’s eyes.” She scoffed. “And no, I won’t kill anyone for it. I’m doing it the right way.”
She didn’t say anything, but her expression in the mirror was no longer numb.
“How can I believe anything you say?” she breathed, her hand shaking as she reached to tuck her hair behind her ear.
There was only one thing left to do: I would prove it to her.
The home library was the quietest and my favorite room in the house. Floor-to-ceiling shelves held books interrupted only by photographs taken by my wife.
I leaned back in my chair behind my mahogany desk, one hand drumming lightly against the polished wood while I dialed my twin sister. I waited for the encrypted call to connect. It didn’t take long, because a moment later Elira appeared on the monitor.
My twin looked as composed as ever, though her tired eyes suggested she’d been working nonstop on this side project.
“Need my help so soon, brother?” she teased. “Should I fly right back?”
“I don’t need your help here,” I grumbled. “I need you to handle the lawyer.”
“The one handling your divorce?” she asked.
I gave a single nod. “Yes, I need you to destroy all his paperwork and documents before you release him. Make sure you check for hidden files on his devices and any hard drives he could have ferreted away.”
Elira’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “You got it. But out of curiosity, why?”
I exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m trying to set things right.”
Elira scoffed. “Setting things right would be giving your wife the divorce she asked for.”
“Let’s not push it, sis.”
“You know they’ll just restart the process.”
“Not if I get Anya to change her mind and choose me.”
Elira shook her head. “Honestly, Jet, I didn’t know you had it in you to be so smitten.”
“It’s called love, Elira. One day you’ll understand.”
Elira glanced off-screen, then folded her arms. “Yeah, I hope whatever that is never finds me.”
Before I could say anything else, the door behind her opened and my stepdad, Giovanni Agosti, entered the room. There was no sense ending the call; he’d seen me already.
“You’re looking well, Jet,” he greeted me, then sidled up next to Elira. “You stirred up quite the commotion.”
“Don’t I always.”
He flashed me a smile. “You sure do. How is your wife?”
“Furious, but coming around.” What was one more white lie? Sinners didn’t change overnight. I was trying, damn it.
“I see. Just keep her happy at all costs, and she’ll come around.” He smiled faintly and then added, “I have an update on the donor for corneas.”
I straightened.
“Yes?”
“My uncle’s wife signed all the documents. The donation is good to go.”
Silence settled over the room while my heart thundered against my rib cage.
“Thank you, Giovanni.”
“Thank Mateo Agosti. It was a crazy coincidence that he’s a match for Gabriel Santos.”
I blinked. I didn’t know the old man very well, but my stepdad respected him, which was enough for me.
“How is he doing?”
“They are making him comfortable, but he won’t last much longer.”
“I’m so sorry. I know he meant a lot to you.”
“Well, now a small piece of him will stay with us,” he said, voice low. “In the family.”
I rested both my forearms on the desk and Elira looked between us. “I didn’t even know Mateo was ill.”
“He kept it private,” Giovanni replied. The moment lingered before Giovanni continued.
“I won’t tell your mom I talked to you. But my advice is to hurry and get your wife on your side.
Raphael Santos and his men aren’t stupid.
They are using a process of elimination in terms of where you’re hiding.
Eventually, they’ll come to the same conclusion as I’m drawing. ”
I scoffed. “You have some Tijuana blood in you, so you don’t count.”
“I’m not sure if I should say thank you or fuck you,” he drawled.
“Probably fuck you,” I grumbled.
For a moment, we remained silent.
“We’re not our ancestors, Jetmir. I’m as much a Tijuana as you and Elira are,” Giovanni said, his tone somber. “Trust me when I tell you, we’re nothing like them.”
“So we are like Volkovs? That’s… comforting.”
“You are your own person, Jetmir,” he claimed. “That’s the only thing to be certain of.”
The line disconnected, leaving the library silent, save for the soft ticking of the antique clock on the far wall.
I remained seated, staring at the now-dark screen.
By agreeing to donate his corneas to Anya’s brother, Mateo Agosti had unknowingly given me an opportunity to fix my wrongdoings.
Yet, somehow the outcome wasn’t exactly a victory.