With a shake of my head, I lift my gaze. Lorenzo’s hair is a mess. It looks like he’s raked his fingers through it in an angry rage.
I need to pull my gaze away because looking at him does crazy things to my belly.
Two guards hover near the doorway, speaking in low voices. The moment they see me, their words die in their throats.
Cowards.
Lorenzo’s gaze finds me. It drags over me slowly, from the bare soles of my feet, up my leggings, to the oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder.
His mouth curves. “Look at this,” he drawls, dropping his keys into a dish on the console. “My dear wife coming down to greet me.”
“You should’ve stayed gone,” I shoot back, stepping off the last stair. “Maybe the world would be a better place.”
His eyes glitter, amused. “Missing me already?”
“Yes, like I miss food poisoning.” I plant myself at the edge of the foyer. “We need to talk.”
“Do we?” His voice stays lazy, but the tension in his shoulders tells a different story. He shrugs out of his jacket with the smoothness of a man who knows exactly how he looks when he moves. “I had such a nice drive imagining silence when I got home.”
“You blocked every phone,” I snap, ignoring the bait. “Your men won’t let me outside. I can’t step onto the grass without two human brick walls materializing out of nowhere like I’m a criminal. You cut me off from everyone.”
He drapes the jacket over the stair rail. “You make it sound dramatic.”
“It is dramatic,” I fire back, stepping closer. “You’ve turned my life into a hostage situation.”
His nostrils flare like my choice of words amuses him. “Your life’s been a hostage situation since you were born into that family. I just . . . relocated the leverage.”
“I’m what now?” I demand. “A pet you keep on a leash. A trophy you hide in a box?”
“Trophies get displayed.” He looks me up and down. “You’re on lockdown.”
“Why?” My voice rises despite myself. “Who am I going to run to? You’ve destroyed everything.”
“Exactly,” he replies as calmly as a man discussing the weather. “Which makes containment efficient.”
My jaw tightens so hard it aches. “You can’t just cut me off from my parents. From my friends. From my job—”
He barks a humorless laugh, and it ricochets off the marble like a gunshot disguised as amusement. “Your job? The one you hate. Your parents? You hate them too. And don’t say friends . . . We both know you don’t have any. I did you a favor.”
“You don’t get to decide what’s good for me.” Heat climbs my throat, turning my words sharp. “You don’t get to put guards on me like I’m a thing you’re afraid of misplacing.”
“I am afraid of misplacing you.” His eyes narrow. “I worked very hard to acquire you.”
Acquire.
The word makes my skin crawl. It also makes my stomach drop.
I take another step toward him, anger buzzing like a live wire. “You’re isolating me.”
“I’m protecting what I own,” he corrects, head tilting. “Two different words. Same result.”
“Seriously?”
He shrugs. “You married into my world.”
“I. Didn’t. Have. A. Choice. Or did you forget?”
“What was your other option? Your father was one deal away from selling you to the Jameson spawn.”
