Page 32 of Jetmir

“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.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

RAPHAEL

Jetmir fucking Volkov was talking to my daughter.

How fucking dare he?

The motherfucker had some nerve to show his face around her after he seduced my daughter and married her without my permission. Then, he almost got her killed and my brother blinded. And to make things even worse, he broke my baby’s heart. She didn’t outright say it, but I know my daughter and could see her eyes and smiles dim with each passing day.

For the past three years, I tried to figure out who set the explosives in Albania. I even recruited my friends to assist by hacking into the local police database. The records were suspiciously vague and data scarce which left me with one logical explanation: Kian or Jetmir had paid.

Of course, I could dial up Kian and ask, but fuck if I would. He assured me my daughter would be safe in the property next to him, and then let his fucking ward seduce her. No fucking way I would be talking to him or Jetmir about anything. They were the “enemy” as far as I was concerned.

And speaking of my ex-son-in-law, he clearly had a death wish and I’d be so happy to oblige. I hated that fucking bastard more than words could convey. It had plenty to do with the fact he’d seduced my daughter, but there was so much more to it. He was a reminder of what my wife had gone through at the hands of Santiago Tijuana two decades ago. Every time my wife saw him, she had to relive that horrific event. Yeah, marriage between those two was a definite no-go.

Jetmir’s resemblance to Santiago Tijuana was undeniable and fuck if I’d ever allow that around my wife. That motherfucker kidnapped and tortured my wife.

The bottom line was Jetmir had no right to be here. This was an event to come to terms with Liana and her empire. After three years of bickering and hate, thanks to her son’s actions, drug and gun smuggling routes were compromised. People were dead. And both of our businesses had suffered enough.

Therefore, this was a truce between the Volkov, Tijuana, and Santos families, but that didn’t include Jetmir Thorne Volkov-Tijuana. What that fucker had done was un-fucking-forgivable.

So I would snatch him and throw him out, then kill him. I shoved through the guests, my hand already on my gun as Anya left the smug fucker who was staring after her like his life depended on it.

He must have sensed me coming because when I came to stand in front of him, glowering at him, he didn’t even flinch. Much to my regret, the fucker was two inches taller than me, so I couldn’t even tower over him.

Jetmir stood nonchalantly, his solid frame beneath his black suit making him stand out. Personally, I preferred white suits, but whatever. He studied me wordlessly, like some kind of freak that I wanted to murder with my bare hands. It didn’t matter that he was the heir to the Volkov and Tijuana criminal empire, he was a young punk to me who dared marry my daughter without my permission. To add salt to the wound, he’d also caused Gabriel’s blindness.

Yeah, the young man would fucking die.

I pulled out my Glock and pointed it in the direction of the exit doors. “Get off my territory before I blow your brains out and have them mopped up and thrown out with the trash.”

He didn’t budge. Instead, he stared at me with an unreadable expression. Clearly he wasn’t very smart.

One point against him.

“With all due respect, Mr. Santos, I’m not leaving until I’ve conducted my business.”