Page 65 of Jetmir

Anya had impeccable taste.

Unfortunately for her… I fit the profile almost perfectly.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ANYA

Iblinked as the world came into focus, finding myself in a bright room with elegant pastel walls, a sophisticated sofa, a cozy bed, and my puppy sleeping peacefully and comfortably at my feet. I stretched and craned my neck, my eyes landing on… my Kindle.

What the actual fuck. The lunatic stole it.

All remaining drowsiness vanished as I swung my feet onto the plush carpet. I was still in the same pajamas I put on before I went to bed after my night of clubbing.

My gaze scanned the room, looking for any sign of my phone. I checked beneath the pillows, inside the drawers, under the bed… nothing.

Refusing to give up, I searched every corner of the bedroom. The furniture was expensive and beautiful. The decor was exquisite. There was a door that led to another room which I suspected was Jetmir’s. I promptly shut it down and locked it from my side, leaving the key in the door. The bathroom was immaculate, stocked with my favorite toiletries. The walk-in closet was neatly arranged with rows of clothes, shoes, and accessories, every item matching my size.

Everything I could possibly need was here—everything except the one thing that mattered.

I had no way to tell anyone where I was or ask for help. My connection to the outside world had been deliberately severed.

“Of course that psycho ex-husband of mine would grab my Kindle but not my phone,” I muttered, although a small part of me—a very stupid part—gushed over the fact that Jetmir remembered how much I loved to read.

“Stop it, Anya,” I scolded, giving myself a light slap on my cheek. I needed to get back to my senses.

Okay, now let’s think rationally.

My ex-husband kidnapped me. Okay, I would deal with him. Maybe it was time I freshen up my baking skills. I winced, remembering what happened last time.

Nah, no cooking this time. It would make him suspicious. Besides, my goal wasn’t to kill him. Yet.

I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth and hair, then selected a yellow sundress. After I was ready, I looked at Dozer.

“Do you want in on making that psychopath pay, baby?” I murmured. His reply was a lazy yawn. Damn it, this one time I wish I had a killer dog. Not a cat disguised in the body of a dog.

I opened the door and stepped into the hallway, my eyes widening as I took in the Latin motifs and landscape paintings. Dozer rushed out, not bothering to wait for me, and of course promptly disappeared. He acted like he was at home here.

Maybe he was, I thought begrudgingly. My sneaky husband must have planned everything, including how to keep my dog docile.

After walking for a while, I reached a patio that overlooks a cozy living room downstairs. My fingers curled around the wooden railing as I descended the marble stairs. There wasn’t a soul in sight, and without thinking twice, I rushed to the entrance.

To my surprise, the double doors were unlocked. I threw them open and immediately slammed into a hard chest. I looked up to haunting eyes swallowing me in their dark depths, burning with the promise of everything I shouldn’t want.

There’d been times when I found Jetmir a little bit frightening, a little bit asshole-ish, but this was the first time he felt… intimidating. And so damn sexy.

My breasts crushed against his chest and my nostrils filled with his cologne. His broad shoulders and muscled physique were intimidating but they were nothing compared to the aura that surrounded him. It was in the way he stared at me that had the blood in my veins sizzling.

A shudder rolled down my spine while desire flickered in the pit of my stomach. I firmly shut it down, but my body refused to chill. I guess it was a result of no sex since I left Jetmir. It wasn’t that I didn’t want sex. Oh yeah, I definitely wanted it and needed it. But somehow, I couldn’t imagine myself with anyone else, and it was impossible to replicate the feeling of all-consuming lust. So I stuck to my smut books and swore off all men.

Jetmir stood dressed in his usual attire. Expensive slacks and white dress shirt, although his tie and jacket were missing. He didn’t need them.

Less clothes to take off, my mind whispered, and I immediately shut down the images that flashed through my mind.

Funny though how quickly that resolve could dissipate. In fact, as I stood here in front of him, I fought the urge to jump the man and cash in on all the sex I’d been missing for the past three years.

But I didn’t. Thank God I still had some self-respect. Not much, but enough.

I inhaled deeply, his cologne invading my lungs, and stepped back, not-so-subtly forcing distance between us.