Page 31 of Jetmir

But that was a dream back then and this is the reality now.

“I’m not… made for you,” I breathed. “I’m not yours and don’t want to be. I don’t love you.”

“If your love is over, we’ll use mine. I have plenty to go around for both of us.”

“I despise you.”

There was no doubt about it, the man was delusional.

Whatever we had, whatever fragile thing had grown between us three years ago… it was now dead.

CHAPTER TEN

JETMIR

“Jetmir, what are you doing here?” My sister Amara’s voice reached us, and Anya’s relieved breath followed. Annoyance snaked through me. I loved my sisters, but sometimes I wished they would mind their own fucking business.

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.