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Chapter 18 A Walking Time Bomb

She gasped and stumbled back in surprise.

“How are you doing?” he asked, reaching out to grab the back of her neck and pulling her to himself. His eyes scanned her face and body. “What’s happening with the case?”

“You’re on the wrong floor, Mr. Moretti,” she muttered as she slid her hand to his wrist, trying to peel his fingers off her neck. “Esther’s on the fifth floor.”

But he didn’t budge. Instead, his grip tightened, firm and possessive, dragging her closer until there was barely any space left between them. Her breath hitched as her palms landed against his chest, instinctively steadying herself.

“I’m not here for Esther,” he growled, voice low and rough, thick with frustration. “I’m here for you. What’s going on with that attacker?”

She took a step back, slipping out of his grip, carefully avoiding his touch as if it burned. “It’s none of your business,” she said coldly.

“I asked you a question. Can’t you answer properly?” he snapped.

His fingers curled tightly at his sides, knuckles turning white as he stared at her—at the bare skin of her neck where his hand had just been. The warmth of her lingered in his palm. His fingers twitched, aching to pull her into his arms again.

But he didn’t move.

Instead, he clenched his fists harder—so tight that his nails bit into his palms until blood threatened to rise. He forced himself to stay still, to tame the urge clawing inside him.

There was a pause.

“You care about me now?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

Lorenzo scoffed, brushing her words off. “Don’t read into it. I just thought… if something happened to you, you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Krystal’s temper flared instantly.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Moretti,” she said, her voice tight with restrained fury. “Even if something did happen, I wouldn’t call you. You don’t need to be involved in my life.”

She turned sharply and began to walk away.

But before she could get far, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back.

His hand slid to her throat—not to hurt, but to hold—as he pulled her flush against him. His other hand caught her wrist and twisted it gently behind her back, locking her in place, her body pinned to his. She gasped at the sudden contact, her heartbeat thudding wildly in her chest.

Her free hand pushed against his chest, trying to create even a sliver of space between them, but he didn’t move. He stood there like a wall—unmoved, eyes burning into hers.

His voice dropped to a growl. “After everything that just happened, you think you can walk away from me?” His eyes darkened. “Don’t forget who you are. What you say and do—it reflects on me.”

Krystal’s patience snapped.

Of course he only cared about himself. Why did she even expect anything else?

"As long as you don’t reveal it, no one will know," she snapped, eyes burning. "If you have this much free time, maybe you should start paying attention to your lover instead."

She pulled herself out of his grasp and stormed off without a backward glance.

Lorenzo stared after her, his jaw tightening. His hands ran over his face in frustration before he let out a deep, guttural growl. “I am out of my fucking mind!” he barked, voice echoing through the hallway. “I came all the way here, worried sick, forher—that crazy woman!”

He threw his hands up in the air, pacing in agitation. "She’s got her damn boyfriend right next to her! Why doesn’t she just let him take care of her? Why did I even fucking bother?!"

His voice dropped into a cold, bitter mutter. "There’s no need for me to care anymore."

***

"The internet is flooded with videos of you sticking your finger in a guy’s gut, honey," Darren muttered, flopping back on thecouch with his tablet. He scrolled through the comments, his brow furrowing.