Rafael stared at the door for one long moment, then back at Gregoris, as if perhaps the universe would still intervene out of basic decency.
It did not.
"You really locked me in," Rafael repeated, with the grave disbelief of a man discovering a constitutional violation in his own marriage.
Gregoris unfastened the cuffs of his shirt, his long fingers moving without hurry. "Yes."
"That is deeply hostile behavior toward a duke."
"You'll survive."
"That remains to be seen."
Gregoris pulled the shirt off entirely and set it aside on the nearest bench, leaving himself in a fitted black undershirt that did nothing to improve Rafael's mood because it made the problem in front of him look even more like a deliberate act of intimidation. Broad shoulders. Scarred forearms. The unbothered stillness of a man who could probably break the training hall in half and then repair it before dinner.
