~Lanre
I let go of Joanna’s hand immediately, my heart pounding in my chest as though I’d been caught stealing. I forced a strained smile onto my face, hoping to mask my unease, but my efforts felt flimsy under the weight of the old man’s piercing gaze.
“Oh, Grandpa Benedict,” I said, trying to inject cheerfulness into my voice. “I was just showing Joanna that beautiful painting over there.” I gestured vaguely at the nearest artwork, my movements stiff and unnatural.
Grandpa Benedict’s eyes narrowed, his weathered face carved into an expression of thunderous disapproval. “Is that so?” he replied, his voice cold and edged with sarcasm. “Because it looked to me like you were holding her prisoner.”
I swallowed hard, the back of my throat dry as sandpaper. My hands clenched into fists at m
