Chapter 14 A Maniac
Larry entered the casino, eyes scanning the space until he spotted table ten. But something didn’t add up. There were only three people there—Krystal and two men.
His heart gave a jolt.
“Wait a second… is that—” he blinked, staring harder. “That’s the girl from the bar…”
His pulse picked up, and he instinctively ran a hand through his hair, straightening his clothes, smoothing down his shirt as he stepped closer. He looked closer. Still no other woman in sight.
“Where the hell is this ex-wife Michael was talking about?” he mumbled, still confused. “I don’t see anyone else at the table except my dream girl.”
But then a smile pulled at his lips, and he shrugged.
“Who cares?” he said to himself. “This is my third time running into her. Gotta make a solid impression.”
As he moved closer, he recognised one of the men sitting with her—Damion.
“Seriously?” Larry grumbled. “Does her boyfriend ever let her go anywhere alone?” Larry grumbled, his jaw tightening. “Whatever. When you break up, I’ll be first in line to take his place.”
As he moved closer, Krystal’s voice cut through the background noise.
“I don’t even get why Lorenzo thinks he’s such a big shot,” she muttered to Damion, swirling her third cocktail. “He’s so damn annoying. You know what pisses me off more? That man always protects that personal actress he keeps around like she’s made of glass.”
Damian chuckled. “Personal actress?”
“What else would you call her?” Krystal grumbled. “Glued to his side every damn minute, throwing herself at him. And I’m the one caught in his mess. I’m exhausted!”
She took another sip and let out a bitter laugh. ““And everyone around him? Always kissing his ass. ‘Mr. Moretti this, Mr. Moretti that.’ Ugh. Like he’s a god or something. His ego is lodged in his damn skull.”
Larry’s brows pinched together. “She knows Lorenzo?” he whispered. “What the hell? When did they meet?”
As he got closer, Krystal kept ranting—until he stepped up to the table flashing his best smile.
All three heads turned toward him.
“Hey, dream girl,” he grinned.
Krystal squinted her eyes, blinking at him through a blur of alcohol and memory. Then she gasped, recognition flickering across her face.
“What are you doing here?” she gasped, leaning back warily. “Are you stalking me or something?”
Larry laughed, placing his hands casually on the table. He gave Damian and the other guy a quick nod. “Hey guys. I’m looking for someone. Do any of you know where Lorenzo’s ex-wife is? Ex-Mrs. Moretti?”
No one answered.
Larry, unfazed, stepped closer to Krystal, rounding the table until he was right beside her chair.
“Do you mind if I ask…” he paused, eyes playful, “what’s your relationship with Lorenzo?”
Krystal took a slow sip of her cocktail, then set it down with a soft clink. “No relationship,” she answered without a blink.
Larry straightened, his grin growing. “Knew it. How could a beautiful woman like you possibly be connected to a man like him.”
He took a few steps back. “Alright, enjoy your drinks. Have fun.”
He then turned to Krystal. “See you next time, Dream girl.” He winked. Then he turned and walked away.
Krystal downed another drink in one go and stood abruptly. “I need some fresh air,” she mumbled, already walking away from the table.
Darren jumped up, concerned. “It’s late. Maybe I should come with you—”
“No. Sit down,” she muttered, pressing his shoulder and pushing him gently back into his seat.
Darren gave her a lingering look as she walked away but eventually sat back down.
***
Back in the private lounge, Larry returned, walking straight to the table. Lorenzo turned to him instantly, his expression tense.
Larry dropped into the couch with a dramatic sigh and glared at Michael.
“You asshole,” he snapped. “Is lying to me your new hobby? There was no ex-wife there. Why the hell would you lie to me?”
Michael sat up straighter, clearly annoyed. ““What? That’s not possible. I wasn’t lying. She was really there.”
“No, she wasn’t!” Larry growled. “There was only one woman at that table. My dream girl from the bar. No ex-wife. Just her.”
Larry leaned back, arms wide, smiling like a man who’d seen heaven. “I finally saw her again. Third time’s the charm, man. That’s gotta mean something, right? This is fate. The universe is screaming it at me.”
He sighed dreamily, practically floating.
“If I see her one more time… boyfriend or not, I’m chasing her. That guy can go to hell—I have to make her see me.”
"You're not doing anything like that!" Lorenzo's growl rumbled through the room.
Larry flipped his head toward him, frowning in annoyance.
"Why not?" Larry shot back. "She just has a boyfriend. It’s not like she’s married. What’s the problem?"
Michael leaned in. "Larry, you're gonna get yourself killed one day. Did you even ask her who she is?"
Larry threw his arms in the air and nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course I did! I even asked if she knew Lorenzo, and she said she doesn’t have any relationship with him at all. She doesn’t even know Lorenzo."
Lorenzo, who had been trying to keep it together, clenched his jaw. His fists curled, knuckles white against the glass he was holding.
"I haven’t seen her for just a few days, and she’s already forgotten that her husband exists?” He slammed the glass down on the table, voice sharp with fury. "Krystal Moretti, do you really think you can slip through my fingers that easily?"
“Wait... what did you just say?” Larry’s brows furrowed. Confusion washed over his face as the name echoed in his head. “Krystal Moretti?”
Then it hit him.
He slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with disbelief. "She’s your ex-wife?!"
Lorenzo turned to him with a look so lethal it could stop a heart. One glare was all it took for Larry’s suspicion to turn into confirmation.
Larry shifted uncomfortably in his seat and let out an awkward laugh. "So, all this time I’ve been hitting on my best friend’s wife?" The realization sent a chill down his spine.
He pointed a finger at Lorenzo, shaking his head in disbelief. "No way. You left her ? Are you serious right now? That girl’s a goddess! The rumors didn’t do her justice at all.”
Lorenzo didn’t answer. He took another drink, the burn in his chest having nothing to do with the alcohol.
But Larry wouldn’t shut up. His voice grew louder with disbelief. "Now look! Everyone’s chasing her. She even has a boyfriend! Dude, are you out of your goddamn mind ? You don’t want that woman? Seriously?"
Michael smacked Larry on the shoulder. "Larry. Stop. Just stop talking."
Lorenzo downed another drink. Then another. And another.
Michael leaned in, pointing toward Lorenzo. "Does it look like he doesn’t want her?"
Larry turned to glance at Lorenzo, who was now sitting there, looking like a storm ready to explode. The man was unraveling.
Larry winced. Guilt all over his face.
Lorenzo stood abruptly, pushing back his chair. He walked out of the room without a word.
And even with the alcohol dulling his senses, he couldn’t drown the burning in his chest. His chest was tight. He could barely breathe.
‘There are billions of women in this world. So why the hell is every damn man chasing mine?’
***
Krystal stepped outside, the night air brushing against her skin as she sipped her drink. Her fingers wrapped around the glass, but her mind was elsewhere. She didn’t feel drunk—just a little lightheaded, like the alcohol was teasing her but refusing to hit.
She glanced at the glass in her hand, scowling. "Why the hell aren't these strong enough?" she muttered, eyeing the glass like it had personally betrayed her.
Her words were slightly slurred, but her thoughts were crystal clear. They kept going back to him . To the last conversation she'd had with Lorenzo.
‘She’s not like you. If you treat her harshly, the stress could harm her more.’
The memory made her stomach twist. Her grip tightened on the glass.
"Esther is fragile and innocent..." Her lip curled. "What am I? A goddamn shoebox?" she mumbled aloud, unaware that her thoughts had turned into muttering.
"He defends her like she’s pure gold. Like everything she does is a blessing and everything I do is meant to burn his world down."
Her face slowly fell, sadness creeping in. Disappointment weighing down her chest.
She tilted her head back, staring up at the night sky, eyes stinging.
“Wasn’t he just my patient? I treated him. I left. That’s all it was supposed to be… Then why the hell do I still feel like this?"
She sniffled, stumbling forward. Her feet wobbled. Her heel caught something uneven, and her ankle twisted. She yelped, falling forward—
But she never hit the ground.
Two strong arms caught her mid-fall, sweeping her clean off her feet. She gasped, startled, and looked up.
Lorenzo.
“What the fuck?” she muttered.
He stared down at her, both stunned and pissed. “Did you just curse at me?” he growled. “Do you even understand what those words mean?”
“What, you think I don’t? I speak English, you arrogant ass.” She narrowed her eyes, unflinching. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
"There it is again," he muttered, clearly annoyed. “That mouth. Don’t use words like that. I’m not used to hearing it from you.”
“What’s it to you?” she shot back, squirming in his hold. “Let me go. Let me go, Lorenzo!”
But Lorenzo didn’t let go. He held her tighter and carried her straight to his car.
He slid into the back seat, pulling her into his lap.
Krystal fought him, twisting in his grip, trying to break free.
“Let me go, you maniac!”
His hands slid down her legs—checking her knees, her ankle, her thigh.
She slapped his chest. "Stop touching me, pervert!" she snapped, the alcohol slurring her voice slightly.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, ignoring her outburst. "You almost hit the pavement. Did you twist your ankle?"
“I said let go!” she hissed, trying again to break free. But he grabbed her jaw gently, turning her face toward him.