ANYA
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Sitting up, I slid my legs over and stood up.
My bare feet touched the cool hardwood and I headed out of the room.
I tried to be as quiet as possible as I creaked my door open and tiptoed down the hallway and stairs, and headed into the kitchen for a glass of liquid. I was dying for a glass of tequila.
Once in the kitchen, I started scavenging through the cabinets for a bottle of something to relax me. Hopefully tequila, although I didn’t hold much hope to find a bottle. I was opening the last cabinet when my mouth parted into a silent O. There was a shelf stocked with top tequila brands.
I smiled smugly and reached for it. I didn’t bother with a fancy glass. Instead, I grabbed a sixteen-ounce beer glass, filled it all the way to the top, and took a long sip, letting the tequila settle over my tongue.
My eyes wandered around the kitchen while I drank. That was when I noticed the old radio sitting in the corner. It was the kind of antique thing I’d only ever seen in pictures and dusty catalogues. Its wooden casing was scratched and worn, the knobs dulled with age.
I crossed the room and turned the dial. Nothing. I tried again.
A burst of static crackled through the room, making me flinch. I twisted the knob a little farther, and after a few more attempts, the radio suddenly sputtered to life.
Music spilled into the room and for half of a second I stood frozen. Tunes of “Sex with My Ex” by Henry Morris drifted through the moonlit kitchen.
“How convenient,” I muttered as a soft laugh escaped me.
The universe clearly had a sense of humor.
I took another sip, letting the song settle into my bones. My shoulders began to sway. Then my hips followed. I set the glass against my lips and moved sensually with the beat.
I danced, ignoring a thousand thoughts clawing their way through my head and emotions filling my chest. Every lyric seemed to find some tender, bruised place inside me and press against it.
I laughed under my breath, shaking my head as I took another drink.
Moonlight poured through the window, silvering the floor and catching on the rim of my glass. For a moment, everything felt strangely unreal—the music, the alcohol warming my veins, the shadows stretching across the room, and the ache I was desperately pretending not to feel.
I refused to think about memories that could still make my heart stumble even when my mind was screaming at me to let them go. I refused to feel the emotions that wanted him. The man—my husband—who held me prisoner here.
So I danced harder.
I reached for the door handle and pulled it open, slipping through without bothering to close it behind me.
The cool night air brushed against my skin, instantly raising goose bumps along my arms. My yellow boy shorts and tank top weren’t enough to keep me warm in the cool fall night, even here in the Caribbean.
The terrace stretched before me, bathed in pale moonlight. I stepped farther outside, lifting my glass as if making a toast to the night, and then turned in a slow circle.
The song followed me through the open doorway.
I tilted my face toward the sky.
The moon hung above me brightly, its light spilling over everything and making the world seem softer than it really was.
I closed my eyes. And danced.
Barefoot against the cool terrace beneath me, drink in hand, hair brushing against my face as the night breeze moved around me.
For those few minutes, I let myself feel everything.
The anger. The longing. The hurt. The ridiculousness of still caring.
Every lyric felt like a direct accusation, calling me out on every emotion I had spent so much time burying.
Why did it have to be like this? Why wasn’t life simple? Why couldn’t we go back to where it all went wrong?
I wished there weren’t so many lies and wrongs sitting between Jetmir and myself because beneath all the violence, obsession, and ruin, I only wanted him.
I opened my eyes and stared up at the moon.
“Are you kidding me?” I whispered.
“Are you talking to the moon, my angel?”
My feet faltered and I whirled around to find my husband leaning against the doorway, wearing nothing but gray sweatpants. His arms folded against his muscular chest, his biceps flexing while he watched me with hungry eyes.
Slowly, like a predator not wanting to scare its prey, he walked over to me. His one hand slipped around my waist, resting on the small of my back, and his other took my free hand, lacing our fingers together.
We started slow dancing.
We barely moved, but I held on to him and my glass of alcohol. Maybe I wanted to have something to blame it on when I woke up in the morning. It had to be tequila. Or this night and the bright moon.
“I missed you, wife.”
My heart shuddered. That stupid organ missed him too. But I couldn’t utter those words and admit it. Instead, I said, “Did I wake you up?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“How did you know I was up, then?”
“Every exit door is alarmed. I get notifications when they open.”
“Ahhh, I forgot I’m in prison.”
“No, you’re home.”
I looked at him sadly. “Just because you say it’s home, it doesn’t make it so.”
An emotion—sadness, or maybe it was fear—flickered in his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.
“You’re my home. I hoped one day I would be yours.”
You could have been, my mind screamed while my heart yelled that he was my home.
“Why did you approach Gabriel to make a trade for me?” I asked, changing the subject.
“I wanted you. From the moment I first saw you, it was game over for me.” There was no apology in his voice. No regret. “I love you, Anya. I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, and I will love you until my dying breath.”
My steps faltered and I stopped dancing.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” My voice was so low, I barely even heard my own words.
He nudged me and my body instantly obeyed, starting to slow dance again.
“Why not?” he inquired.
“Because…” I trailed off, my mind a fuzzy mess. He knew the reasons. It was pointless for me to parrot them again. So I took a sip of my tequila and said, “Thanks for stocking up with the top shelf.”
“Only the best for my wife.” I scoffed, but didn’t say anything else. The song had finished and another slower melody filled the space between us.
“You shouldn’t have lied, Jetmir,” I said softly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry for betraying you. I’m horrified that I hurt you, but I’m not sorry that you’re mine. This is our chance. This life. I’ve brought you somewhere where nobody will find us. Only you, me, and the stars. That’s all I wanted.”
“You’re impossible,” I grumbled under my breath, taking another sip of tequila.
Gazing up at his face, the stars glittered high above us.
How was I supposed to respond to something like that?
My heart liked it. Heck, even my body did.
It was incredibly romantic, yet… wrong. “I feel like you’ve been reading too many romance books, Jetmir. ”
“I had to turn up my game so I can stay ahead of those book boyfriends of yours.”
“Well, the kidnapping trope isn’t my or my book boyfriends’ thing.”
He smiled. “You’re my wife, so technically I swept you up onto a romantic getaway.”
“You’re delusional,” I muttered.
“I prefer… hopeful.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you do.”
“Anya, I just want a second chance. I want to be the reason you’re smiling for the rest of our lives. I want to be your everything like you’re mine. Please, my angel… give us another chance.”
The yearning in his voice was my undoing, even if I wasn’t ready to admit it. Ever since he kidnapped me, my walls had slowly started crumbling and I was desperately trying to keep the foundation up because I didn’t think I’d survive him and chaos that followed the second time around.
“Please stop,” I whispered.
“The day I stop and give up on us is the day my heart stops beating.”
“Haven’t we done enough damage?” I rasped, my heart trembling behind my rib cage.
“Show me this little mercy, wife, and pretend just right now that I haven’t fucked up,” he said, his voice hoarse and his eyes burning. “Show me that you belong to me or let me show you that you belong to me. Let me prove to you how good we are together.”
A strong woman would have denied him, but it would seem I wasn’t one of them. My feelings for him never ceased and fighting them was a losing battle. Maybe I should put everything that was separating us aside—at last for the night—and stop fighting my feelings.
The air had grown heavy with humidity, carrying the faint scent of salt from the sea. Beyond the railing the sea stretched endlessly in every direction—black, vast, and almost indistinguishable from the night. The moon was now hidden behind clouds.
Then the first raindrop landed softly on my cheek. A moment later, another followed, then another, each one cool against my skin.
We kept slow dancing beneath the open sky. Our bodies moved in sync like we’d been dancing in the rain a million times before and the raindrops were part of the song.
The rain began to fall more steadily, catching in his hair.
I could feel it soaking through our clothes, but neither of us seemed to care.
We were suspended in that strange, beautiful moment of wanting this night to last forever, because the daylight would put us right back to where we started. Or rather, where our marriage ended.
“Remember when we danced in the rain?” He brushed his nose against mine. “How happy we were.”
I remembered everything about our short time together, but I refused to admit that to him. Instead I rested my head against his chest.
He pulled me a little closer. We swayed together on that lonely terrace, surrounded by the darkness of the sea, it felt as though the entire world had disappeared—leaving only the two of us, dancing in the rain.
For the night, I would pretend there was no past and wrongdoings separating us.
“I want to forget all the problems tonight,” I breathed, locking eyes with him. “Call me a good girl while gripping my hair, and make love to me. Just beware, tomorrow I’ll go back to… hating you.”
He let out a heavy breath, and brought his hands up to cup my cheeks. “You can lie to yourself, Anya, but you can’t lie to me. Our souls, bodies, and hearts are connected in the most profound way and there’s only one feeling that dominates.”
Then he kissed me deeply, claiming my soul, heart, and body.