Page 62 of Jetmir

“You can hate me. Love me. Kill me. I’ll tolerate anything you dish my way, as long as you are with me.”

“You’re crazy,” I breathed.

“For you… yes.” He shouldn’t be saying that. He should be hating me too. I almost killed him with the nut allergy. He ended up not having an EpiPen, and if his sister hadn’t showed up, he would have died. “I’m here to stay.”

“God, we can’t… Gabriel’s eyes⁠—”

“I’ll fix it all, my angel,” he murmured, brushing his nose against mine. “But make no mistake. You’re mine forever this time.”

I sucked in a harsh breath. “My family will come for me.”

“If anyone tries to take you, I’ll skin them alive.”

And that right there told me everything. Trust, once dead, could not be resurrected.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

JETMIR

She searched my face, looking for the empty threats, but she wouldn’t find them. She knew I meant every goddamned word.

Slowly, she pulled away until her back met the headboard, putting precious inches between us.

As if inches would save her. Not even oceans could.

However, Anya didn’t flinch at my threat because despite her petite frame and angel-like face, she was fierce, strong, and loyal almost to a fault. I had no doubt that if she could find a way to leave me, she’d run right back to her family and tell them of my threats.

The latter part I didn’t give a fuck about, but her leaving me… Yeah, that part fucking killed me.

“Something is seriously wrong with you,” she whispered.

“Sure is. My wife left me. It was supposed to be for better or worse, in sickness and in health, Anya. Not at the first sign of trouble, run. You. Fucking. Left.”

“You cannot be serious!” Her laugh was brittle. “You fucking lied and cheated. From the moment we met, you fucking lied, schemed, and cheated. You were supposed to be my hero and you turned out to be a… a villain. A bad guy who destroyed my brother’s life with your actions.”

The words landed harder than any knife could. That was exactly who I’d wanted to be. Who I’d set out to be, for her.

“I never claimed to be a hero,” I gritted, dragging a hand over my jaw as I forced my temper back into its cage. It paced in there like something that had learned patience only because I’d been starving it into obedience.

“No.” Her eyes glistened, but she refused to let the tears fall. “I guess it’s my mistake for assuming, but don’t worry, I won’t make it again.”

The room fell silent, weighted with our past, promises, and failures. Hers and mine. But she only saw mine.

She had no idea. No fucking idea.

“You’re my wife,” I said quietly. “We’ll handle this hurdle and find common ground. And we’ll grow old together and love each other for the remainder of our days.”

She scoffed, looking unconvinced, and something in me cracked a little.

But my wife should know by now that I played dirty. I intended to use every trick in the book to get her to fall in love with me again. Anya was a hopeless romantic with a dirty mind. She was a mafia princess who loved cuddles but also wanted a hand necklace.

And I was the man who would give it all to her until she was screaming my name like a prayer that would absolve us both of our sins.

I might be a villain, but I would be her villain. God could damn me when this was over as long as she was by my side.

And with that, I left her in her room, resolved to hack into her Kindle and uncover what kind of kinky stuff my wife had been into lately.

Anya was under my roof again, breathing the same air, sleeping ten steps away from me, and somehow I’d managed to make her hate me even more within the first hour.