The room held its breath.
Lorenzo didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. “Put the gun down.”
Dimitri didn’t move. His gaze lingered on Adrienne, tucked against Lorenzo’s chest like she belonged there—because she did, and because Dimitri hated that fact more than he cared to admit.
“Wait, let me get this straight. You broke into my house,” Dimitri said flatly. “Threatened my security. And now you’re issuing demands.”
“She’s my wife,” Lorenzo replied. “And you took her.”
Adrienne lifted her head just enough to glance between them. “Yeah. You chained me to a bed, Dimitri. Let’s not rewrite history.”
“That was temporary,” Dimitri snapped before he could stop himself.
Both of them looked at him.
Adrienne arched a brow. “Temporary?”
Lorenzo’s grip tightened imperceptibly, his thumb
