“Bossy.”
Lorenzo laughs, then turns and strides toward the door.
As he reaches the threshold, he glances back once.
His eyes lock on mine, and for a second, I see something raw beneath his stare.
Then it shudders.
I remain in the chair, my fingers still tingling where he touched me.
He’d better comehome.
64
Lorenzo
The asshole isn’t even tryingto hide.
Nope. He’s just sitting . . .
Waiting.
Like he knew I was coming and seems happy I’ve finally joined him.
With a smile on his face, Grant looks up from the glass of whiskey in his hand.
“Took you long enough.” That alone nearly makes me smile. “Well,” he drawls, setting the glass down with deliberate calm, “this is dramatic.”
My gun comes up without thought. “How fucking dare you kidnap my wife?”
Grant laughs.
Not nervous. Not scared.
Confident.
“She was never yours,” he says, pushing up from the chair. His eyes flick once to the gun, then back to my face. “She was always meant to be mine.”
Something snaps inside me. “You don’t get to talk about her like she’s a thing,” I reply, stepping closer. “She isn’t an object you misplaced. She’s not a prize. She’s a person. And she’s mine.”
Grant’s mouth curls, sharp and smug. “Says the man who kept her hidden away and forced her to marry him.”
The words land.
They don’t miss.
But I don’t flinch.
“I was wrong,” I say, surprising both of us. “And I know it.”
Grant’s brows lift. “Oh? That’s new.”
“I thought vengeance was the same thing as justice,” I continue, my grip tightening on the gun. “I thought punishment would fix the hole she left behind.”
I step closer. He takes one step back.
“But I was always fixing the wrong thing.”
