Chapter 12 You’re Still My Wife #2
A sharp crash shattered the air. Lorenzo’s whiskey glass had slipped from his hand and hit the glass table with a loud bang. He was already on his feet, eyes blazing.
Larry gaped. Michael straightened in shock, both of them watching as Lorenzo marched away from the table.
“What the hell?” Larry muttered in confusion. “Where’s he going?”
“Shut up,” Michael hissed under his breath, eyes fixed on Lorenzo’s retreating form. “I think he's losing it.”
As Lorenzo walked across the room, Krystal stood from her seat and made her way toward the restroom outside the sitting area.
She ran a hand through her hair with a soft sigh, heading toward the well-lit corridor and the single-person bathrooms. She didn’t notice him trailing behind.
She stepped into one, and just as she turned to shut the door, a strong hand grabbed it from behind, following her inside and slammed it shut behind him. She flinched, startled, her mouth parting to scream—only to find him standing there.
Lorenzo.
‘Shit.’ Her heart skipped a beat. ‘Why is it always him? Why is he everywhere lately?’
Still, she forced a tight smile onto her lips, her voice honeyed. “Lorenzo… what are you doing here?”
His face was already dark with anger. Hearing her call him by his name and not ‘baby' like she used to, made his blood boil even more.
Something flickered in his eyes. His jaw ticked, lips pressed into a hard line.
“What do you think I’m doing here?” His voice was low but thick with heat. Then he stepped toward her, slow and threatening, eyes locked on hers. “So… you have a boyfriend now?”
She found herself backed against the wall, completely caged in.
“If I didn’t know how in love he is with Esther, I’d think he was jealous right now.”
She lifted her chin, her voice cold. “Why? Only you get to have lovers, and I don’t? I’m not allowed to fall in love?”
Lorenzo’s lips curled into a possessive sneer. With a growl, he slammed his hand against the wall next to her head and leaned in, his face inches from hers.
“Don’t forget,” he said through gritted teeth, “we haven’t divorced legally yet! You’re still my wife.”
That last word came out in a furious growl. His body trembled with rage as he tried to keep himself from snapping.
Krystal crossed her arms and tilted her chin defiantly. “We’re signing those papers today or tomorrow—what difference does a piece of paper make?”
His face darkened.
She didn’t stop. “You’re the one who wanted a divorce, remember? You left me. You abandoned me. So what I do now has nothing to do with you.”
She pushed off the wall and reached for the door. But before she could open it, Lorenzo grabbed her wrist and spun her around, his arm locking around her waist as he lifted her effortlessly and set her down on the bathroom counter.
“Lorenzo!” she hissed, pushing against his chest, breathing hard. “Stop it. Don’t be like this.”
He didn’t budge. He was a wall of muscle, heat, and fury.
Frustrated, she leaned back, giving up the struggle. Her voice turned mocking. “I didn’t know Mr. Moretti had a thing for cornering women in bathrooms. Is this some new kink?”
His jaw flexed. His eyes burned. “And I didn’t know my wife had such a sharp tongue.”
She drew a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with tension. ‘Why am I still pretending?’ she thought bitterly. ‘We’re already getting divorced. What’s the point of acting anymore?’
Straightening up, she met his eyes and spoke in a firm, clear voice.
“Let’s stay out of each other’s lives, alright? That way, you won’t have to remember you have a wife who talks back.”
She began to slide off the counter.
But Lorenzo blocked her with his knee, pinning her in place. One hand cupped her jaw. The other caught her wrist and pinned it behind her back, his chest pressing fully against hers, heat radiating from his body.
“Let go,” she gritted, trying to pull away, but he didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he only leaned closer, his face inches from hers.
“Krystal Moretti,” he said in a voice so low and dangerous it made her stop squirming. “I don’t give a damn about what you say. But what you do? That matters to me. This is your last fucking warning—do not fucking forget that you’re still mine!”
She shoved his shoulder with her free hand, breaking free and sliding down from the counter.
“I have nothing to do with you anymore,” she growled. “I don’t owe you anything—and I sure as hell don’t have to listen to you.”
His hand tightened on her face, fingers digging in just enough to claim her. Before she could react, his lips crashed onto hers with a fierce urgency that stole her breath away. Krystal’s eyes snapped open, locking onto his with stunned disbelief.
His mouth was rough, demanding—biting down hard on her lower lip, sharp and possessive.
The sting made her gasp, a sharp pulse of pain mingling with a rush of something darker.
His tongue flicked out, slick and teasing, slipping between her lips like a secret, dancing with hers in a desperate, hungry rhythm.
Teeth grazed the tender skin along her jaw as he bit down again, a nip that sent an electric jolt racing through her entire body.
His lips left a fiery trail from her mouth down to the delicate curve of her neck, kissing, licking, and biting in a maddening sequence that left her trembling, each touch setting her nerves ablaze and leaving her trembling.
Krystal’s breath hitched, frustration and desire tangled in every ragged inhale. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, heat pooling deep inside her, but beneath it all, the fire of anger burned brighter.
Suddenly, she snapped. With every ounce of strength she could muster, Krystal shoved him away, her hands pushing hard against his chest as if she could physically force the hold of his presence to loosen.
"You want me to stop? Break up with Esther first—then we’ll talk about me!" Her voice was sharp and biting, laced with fury, echoing the hurt she refused to hide.
Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed, darkening with a dangerous edge, the flicker of his temper barely contained. But when he finally spoke, his voice was low and unnervingly calm.
"I don’t have a relationship with her. I’ve never cheated on you. Never kissed her. Never been disloyal. I’ve only ever been yours, through our whole damn marriage."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes in disbelief.
"You can say that with a straight face?" A mocking smirk pulled at her lips as she glanced down at his pants.
Her voice dropped with venomous sweetness.
"Oh right… don’t tell me. Is the problem down there?
" Her eyes dropped to his crotch. "Lost your charm? "
“Krystal.” He snapped her name like a warning, dragging her face closer until their foreheads almost touched. His grip on her wrist loosened, only for his hand to slide up the back of her head, pulling her closer.
“Why else would you spend most nights in another room for two years?” she fired back. “If everything was so perfect, why couldn’t you even be near me at night?”
He smirked. That sharp, pissed-off glare melted into something darker. Hotter. “You want to know why? Let me show you why I had to sleep in a different fucking room.”
Before she could respond, his mouth was on her again. Hot, bruising, desperate. He kissed her throat, her collarbone, his hands dragging over her skin like he was starved for her.
His lips traced a fiery path down her neck, starting just beneath her ear.
His tongue flicked out, wet and teasing, licking slow, deliberate stripes along the sensitive skin that made her shiver uncontrollably.
He bit down gently at first, nipping the hollow of her throat, making her gasp and arch toward him.
Krystal whimpered, the sharp rush of pain mixed with heat flooding her veins.
His hands roamed over her shoulders, sliding down her arms, pulling her closer as his mouth traveled lower. He kissed the curve of her collarbone, his tongue swirling around the delicate bone, tracing circles that left a trail of fire in their wake.
She cried out softly when his teeth grazed her skin, biting just hard enough to leave a mark, before licking the sting away with a soft, wet flick of his tongue.
His breath was ragged, warm against her skin, and every kiss seemed to ignite another spark inside her. She clung to him, breathless and trembling, caught between the sharp bites and the tender licks.
A sudden knock on the bathroom door broke the moment.
"It’s been a while. Can you come out, please?" came a man’s voice from the other side.
Krystal, disoriented and lost, turned her head toward the door, but Lorenzo grabbed her jaw and turned it back to him, his mouth claiming hers again, rough and consuming.
"Lorenzo," she gasped, struggling between breaths as his lips blazed a trail down her throat. Her voice was shaky, trying to reason with him, "There are... people outside."
Another knock echoed. But he didn’t stop. He was lost in her scent, her taste—his mouth dragging across her skin.
And then, a thought crashed into him like cold water. ‘Why does Krystal smell like the girl I slept with that night at the hotel? And the woman in the car two years ago?’
"Jesus, you seem sick or something," the voice outside muttered in frustration before footsteps faded away.
Lorenzo’s hands were still roaming when she finally managed to push his arms off and whispered through heavy breaths, “We’re divorced, Lorenzo. Don’t do this.”
She pressed her palms to his chest, trying to create space between them.
His body at the word ‘divorce’.
Before he could speak, Krystal twisted away from his hold, slipped her leg free, and slid down from the counter. She moved fast, yanking the bathroom door open and disappearing down the hallway without a glance back.
Lorenzo stood there, motionless for a second, then tensed up completely as he watched her disappear. His hands clenched into fists, his jaw tight, his chest heaving. He leaned back against the counter, a harsh breath ripping from his lungs.
"A new boyfriend right after leaving me?" he muttered bitterly. "Did you ever even love me?"