The tension was palpable as Bruno's grip on my arm tightened, his body radiating a barely contained fury.
Adrian stood a few feet away, his demeanor maddeningly calm, as if he relished the fire he had ignited.
The smirk on Adrian's face made my stomach churn; it was a look of triumph, a man playing a game whose rules only he knew.
"Care to explain, Adrian?" Bruno's voice was deceptively calm, but the undertone of menace was unmistakable. "What gives you the right to touch my wife?"
Adrian's hands remained tucked casually into his pockets, his posture relaxed. He tilted his head slightly, his smirk widening.
"Touch? You're exaggerating, Bruno. Your wife accidentally spilled wine on me. I simply spoke to her, nothing more."
Bruno's jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed.
"I saw you holding her wrist. That's far more than speaking."
Adrian shrugged, unbothered.
