Viktor finally lifted his gaze, meeting his grandson's. His expression was unreadable but Desmond didn't miss the flicker of awareness in his eyes.
"If it's about brunch," Viktor said, setting the papers aside, "I see no reason for this discussion."
Desmond leaned against the desk, his fingers tapping once against the polished surface. "Then I will give you one." He held his grandfather's gaze. "She is my wife."
Viktor sighed, unimpressed. "She is a Marino."
"And yet she wears my name now," Desmond countered smoothly. "I don't expect you to like her but I expect you to show her the respect that comes with being my wife."
His voice was calm but the weight behind his words was undeniable.
Viktor's jaw tightened. "You think you can walk in here and tell me how to behave in my own home?"
"No," Desmond replied with a dangerously soft voice. "I think I can remind you that undermining my wife is the same as undermining me and I don't take that lightly."
