Page 37 of Jealous Billionaire's Endless Regret

“Are you really in that much of a hurry to divorce me?”

‘Of course I am! I already booked the flight to leave the country. Why would I waste any more time?’ She kept her thoughts to herself and gave him a sad, resigned smile.

“Aren’t you?” she asked quietly. “You want to marry Esther, right? The faster we divorce, the sooner you can be with her.”

Lorenzo’s hands balled into fists at his sides. ‘She doesn’t even care. Not one damn bit. I’ve been losing my mind since she left, worrying, wondering where she went... and here she is, smiling like this divorce means nothing. All because I gave her some damn papers? She didn’t even wait a day before trying to disappear from my life completely.’

“You’re as understanding as ever, Krystal,” he said through gritted teeth.

She tilted her head, her voice low. “Aren’t you the one who asked for this divorce?”

Her smile faded. A shadow of pain crossed her face, and she looked away. Her voice dropped to a whisper, soaked in hurt.

“I was in love with you,” she said softly. “But you don’t love me. So I have to leave with some dignity. I need to be decent enough to walk away on my own.”

His entire body jerked like he’d been slapped. He reached out, grabbing her wrist and snatched her close until her chest hit his.

“What do you mean youwerein love with me?” His voice cracked—not with weakness, but with restrained panic. “You don’t love me now?”

His eyes searched her face, and the usual control in his voice was gone. He sounded frustrated, angry. Afraid.

Krystal stared up at him, stunned. ‘Has he lost his mind? Weren’t we just talking about divorce five seconds ago? Now he’s panicking over my feelings? What the hell is going on?’

Still, she slowly pulled her wrist out of his grip and shook her head.

“I know where I stand in your life,” she said gently. “I don’t chase after dreams that don’t belong to me. I won’t ask for your love anymore.”

Before she could finish, he stormed toward her again, closing the distance between them. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, and he yanked her into him, hugging her tightly.

His face buried into the crook of her neck, his tall frame bending down to fit her smaller one, like he wanted to melt into her. His breath was hot against her skin, his lips grazing her shoulder as he exhaled through his nose, rubbing against her like he couldn’t get close enough.

Krystal froze in his arms, her entire body stiff with shock.

Her heart pounded as her brain scrambled to process what was happening.

Lorenzo had never hugged her like this. Never even touched her like this. Not in two years.

Then, a few seconds later, she heard him whisper near her ear, his lips brushing her skin.

“Grandpa’s watching.”

Her eyes slid sideways on instinct. Sure enough, Grayson stood a few feet away in the garden, where the party continued, watching them.

As they stood in that tight embrace, Grayson’s smile widened. Watching them hold each other like that—close, intimate—seemed to satisfy something in him. After a beat, he turned around quietly and made his way back into the garden, rejoining the party.

Lorenzo slowly pulled his face from Krystal’s neck, his cheek brushing against hers. The rough stubble on his jaw grazed her soft skin, tickling her slightly. He didn’t move far. His hand slid up from her nape to cradle her face, his palm warm against her cheek as he stared into her eyes.

He stared into her eyes with a heat that made her breath hitch. His gaze lingered long and hard, intense enough to leave her frozen in place.

Then, instead of backing away, his face dipped closer. His lips hovered just inches from hers. His scent—clean, masculine, familiar—wrapped around her, and for a long, quiet second, her mind went completely blank.

Just as his lips inched closer, she whispered breathlessly, “Grandpa has left.”

His fingers tensed against her neck, and his mouth halted just shy of touching hers. The softness in his gaze faded, replaced by something darker, more frustrated.

He swallowed hard, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. His fingers flexed slightly on the back of her neck, the touch firm—holding him back. The desire to pull her closer burned throughhim, but he managed to rein it in. Still, his hand stayed there, unmoving. Possessive.

When he finally spoke, his voice came low and rough, laced with control and frustration.

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