Page 35 of Jealous Billionaire's Endless Regret

Lorenzo’s features relaxed. His face, usually hard and cold, softened slightly, though it stayed quiet. Heat flooded through him where her fingers touched, and his eyes fluttered shut for a second as he breathed her in.

But the warmth also brought back a memory—two years ago, in the car. A similar touch. Fingers grazing his face, sliding down his skin, making him shiver. And he’d whispered to that woman, “I’ll take care of you”—right before he slept with her.

But that was Esther. Not Krystal. Wasn’t it?

His eyes snapped open. He pulled away from her touch, jaw tightening as he turned his face to the side. The sternness returned—but it wasn’t the cold, detached kind he usually wore. There was a fragile line of control in his body, like he was fighting something he didn’t dare admit.

“No,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly. “It’s enough.”

He looked at her, eyes still locked with hers. There was a softness in his gaze that threatened to shatter. “I can give you anything,” he said, rough and raw, “but not this.”

Krystal let out a sigh, her expression falling into quiet disappointment. Her fingers slid down from his cheek, lingered near his neck, then dropped to her sides.

But then—Lorenzo reached out and tried to grab her hand, desperate to bring it back to his face. His body moved on instinct, driven by panic and desperation to feel her touch again. But his palm met empty air. She was already stepping back.

Krystal looked down to hide her face. Her lips twitched in a barely restrained smile as she let out a soft breath, barely whispering, “Thank God,” before pressing a smile back.

“Krystal?”

She turned at the sound of her name.

Grayson stood in the doorway, wearing a warm smile.

“Grandpa.” Her smile bloomed as she walked over to him. He opened one arm and pulled her into a side hug.

Lorenzo followed her toward the entrance, standing tall behind her like a shadow. Grayson’s warm smile shifted the moment he saw him, his expression growing sharp and disapproving.

“Why does she look so weak?” Grayson asked gruffly, not bothering to lower his voice. “Haven’t you been taking care of her, you ungrateful brat?”

Lorenzo frowned. “Why do you always assume I’m the problem? When have I ever treated her badly?”

“She cooks for you, brings you food, takes care of the house, runs errands—don’t think I don’t know all of it,” Grayson snapped. “But when have I heard that you do even half of that for her? You’ve got a lot of nerve standing there acting like you’re doing your part.”

He shot Lorenzo a glare, then gently tugged Krystal with him into the house.

“Why’d you even bring this brat along?” Grayson mumbled under his breath to Krystal, shaking his head.

Krystal heard Lorenzo grit his teeth behind her. She pressed her lips together to keep a laugh from escaping.

Inside the house, the party was in full swing. Elegant guests moved fluidly through the spacious living room, their laughter and clinking glasses blending with the soft hum of jazz in the background. The atmosphere buzzed with energy. Champagne flowed, conversations overlapped, and servers weaved through the crowd with silver trays of gourmet bites.

Krystal and Lorenzo mingled for a while—well, Krystal mingled with the hors d'oeuvres. She was far more interested in sampling every new dish that passed her way than in small talk or networking. Sushi, sliders, smoked salmon crostinis—nothing escaped her plate.

Lorenzo, on the other hand, barely left her side. He trailed after her silently, his tall figure looming behind her wherever she stopped to eat. While others assumed he was casually making business conversation with the guests around him, he was mostly keeping one eye on her. His tone was polite, his words controlled, but his focus never strayed far from Krystal.

At one point, she tossed him a look over her shoulder, raising a brow as she popped a truffle in her mouth.

He didn’t respond. Just sipped his whiskey and stayed close.

As the evening rolled on, Grayson caught their eyes from across the room. With a subtle motion of his hand, he gestured for them to come over.

Krystal straightened slightly and wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. Then, they both made their way back to Grayson.

Grayson guided Krystal to a plush couch, and she sat down beside him. Lorenzo followed, choosing the seat directly across from her. Their eyes met briefly, and Krystal looked away, reaching into her purse.

“I brought something for you,” she said softly, pulling out a small, elegant box and handing it to Grayson.

He took it, clearly delighted by the wrapping alone, and opened it with curiosity. The moment he lifted the lid, his eyes widened.

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