"Am I interrupting something?"
Who said that?
We immediately lift our heads.
Alexander jumps up, trying to reach a weapon near the fireplace, but a man stops him by pointing a gun at him.
I stand up too fast. Another man points a pistol straight at my forehead.
Alexander growls in frustration while I raise my hands.
The man who just spoke looks at us with a cynical smile.
A man in his forties, eyes black as a crow’s, tanned skin, wearing a navy-blue suit, black Italian shoes, with hard features.
"Sorry to interrupt such a romantic moment."
He speaks French, but his heavy accent shows it’s not his native tongue.
"You son of a b***h!" Alexander rages.
"Is that how you talk to your elders? You come to my country, my city, and speak to me like that? I’m really offended."
"Who the h
