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Lorenzo’s gaze was glassy, unfocused, but blazing, burning with something far more dangerous. The scent of whiskey clung to his breath.

“You’ve been drinking?” she whispered, breathless.

His chest rose and fell against hers, his grip on her wrist still iron-tight. But his mouth hovered near hers again, like he couldn’t stand not touching her.

He didn’t answer the question. "It was you. That night. At the hotel two months ago. Wasn’t it?" His voice cracked with urgency.

She froze.

“What hotel?” she mumbled, heart pounding. But even as the words left her mouth, she knew he’d found out. But how? Darren had deleted the footage. Unless… he recovered it?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she tried.

His hand moved from her waist to her jaw, gripping gently but firmly, forcing her to look at him. “Krystal Moretti,” he said, low and lethal, “Come clean already. How much longer are you going to keep lying to me?"

She swallowed, but kept her face blank.

But then, his grip softened. The fury in his eyes dimmed a little. And then—gently, painfully—he asked, voice hoarse, almost pleading, “Is the baby mine?”

Damion’s words echoed in her head: ‘You shouldn’t lie about something like that. Pregnancy isn’t a joke. And besides, maybe this could be a turning point. Don’t you love him already?”

She closed her eyes.

Then she opened them—and confessed quietly.

“There is no baby.”

Lorenzo’s expression turned to stone.

“What?” Lorenzo’s grip on her wrists tightened. “You aborted it already?!”

Krystal winced. “No! There was never a baby. I picked up a report that belonged to another woman—she had the same name as me. I just found that funny and kept it. I was never pregnant.”

Lorenzo went dead still. His eyes burned into her, and for the first time… she saw something almost vulnerable.

Did he... really want a baby?

“You’re lying.” His hand slid back to her jaw, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m not,” she whispered. “Damion... he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t even have a boyfriend. He’s already married. He’s just a friend, nothing more.” She looked down, swallowing hard. “I was never pregnant. I don’t know who told you that, but it was just a stupid joke.”

‘She never had a boyfriend. Never pregnant with another man’s child.’ Lorenzo felt something settle deep in his chest. Like his broken pieces were snapping back into place. ‘She still has me in her heart? I still have a chance?’

He moved before either of them could think. His lips crashed onto hers—desperate, possessive—kissing her like trying to breathe life into a shattered heart. His mouth devoured hers, one hand gripping the back of her head so tightly she couldn’t pull away. His tongue swept over her lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, sliding inside as she tried to breathe, but she couldn’t—he held her breath captive, licking her with fierce hunger.

Krystal finally pried her lips free, gasping for air. “Lorenzo—” she whispered, but he captured her again, sucking her lips, his tongue exploring her mouth with greedy insistence.

His other hand dropped, bending down to grab behind her knees, lifting her effortlessly. Without breaking the kiss, he carried her to the couch and settled down, pulling her into his lap. She sank back against his broad chest, her hips settling on the hard length pressing beneath her.

His palm pressed firmly against her womb, fingers splayed across her stomach. She squirmed in his lap, tingles racing down her spine and limbs. Her hands curled around his neck as his lips never left hers, and the shivers crawling over her skin grew stronger.

“Stay still,” he whispered in her ear, breath hot and low, sending electric shocks down her spine. His lips slid from her mouth to the soft curve of her neck.

He licked and sucked the skin there with a hunger as if starved for centuries. Krystal squirmed and shifted, trying not to fall from his lap, caught between pleasure and ticklish teasing.

Suddenly, he bit her throat, then lingered with wet, hot licks. She flinched, gripping his thighs tightly.

Quick as lightning, she scrambled out of his lap before he could clamp down tighter.