Chapter 20 Pregnancy #2
"I’m so sorry. How are you now?" Krystal asked over the video call, her eyes on the bruises lining Damion’s face. They weren’t as bad as she’d feared, but still...
"I’m fine," Damion replied calmly. "They look worse than they feel."
Krystal let out a soft breath, relieved.
Kara scooted closer to the camera, eyes narrowed. “What about the baby? Whose is it?”
"There’s no baby !” Krystal walked over to the dining table and sat down with a tired sigh.
“I was just messing around with a random report I found at the hospital that belonged to another woman who had the same name as me. I don’t even know who told Lorenzo I was pregnant, but he believed it and then he completely lost his damn mind. ”
Damion frowned, one arm going around Kara’s shoulder as he pulled her closer. “Krystal... you need to tell him the truth. Things have already gotten too far.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Krystal mumbled, her fingers curling on the table. “We’re not getting back together anyway. It doesn’t matter what he thinks about me.”
“Krystal,” Damion said gently. “You shouldn’t lie about something like that. Pregnancy isn’t a joke. And besides...” He paused. “Maybe this could be a turning point. Don’t you love him already?”
Krystal stiffened.
Before she could respond, the front door slammed open.
Krystal’s phone slipped from her hand and clattered onto the table. She barely managed to press the hang-up button before spinning around.
Lorenzo stormed into the apartment.
“Shit,” she hissed under her breath. She’d forgotten to lock the door after Darren left for a party.
She shot up from the chair, but Lorenzo was already charging toward her. In a flash, he caught her wrists in one hand and wrapped the other around her waist, dragging her backward until her spine hit the wall with a dull thud.
Before she could say a word, his mouth was on hers—rough, hungry, furious.
Krystal gasped in shock, lips parting from instinct, and he took full advantage. His tongue forced its way inside her mouth with no hesitation, dominating the kiss like it was a punishment. But it wasn’t painful. It was desperate. Unhinged. Possessive.
His body pressed against hers, hard and hot, pinning her completely between him and the cold wall. His hand on her waist slid up her side, fingers digging into her ribs.
The kiss deepened, his mouth moving over hers with raw aggression, and she tasted everything in him—alcohol, desire, rage. His lips were warm and demanding, moving over hers in a rhythm that made her toes curl despite everything in her screaming to push him away.
She whimpered into his mouth.
His teeth grazed her lower lip, biting just enough to sting before sucking it between his lips. He kissed her like he wanted to erase every bit of distance between them.
Krystal’s wrists twisted in his grip, but he didn’t loosen it. He pulled back only slightly, giving her a fraction of space—just enough for her to gasp for air.
Her eyes fluttered open, and what she saw made her chest tighten.
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.
Lorenzo leaned back on the couch, an intense, dark look covering his face.
Krystal glanced toward the door—it was locked.
Darren was out for the night, and she was alone.
Before she could breathe, she felt a hand slip around her waist from behind.
A heavy weight pressed against her back, and a warm head settled where her shoulder met her neck.
She barely breathed as his body molded to hers, possession wrapping her in its heat.
“Don’t run from me anymore,” he breathed against her skin, kisses trailing from her shoulder to her neck and up to her ear.