The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 6

So he hadn’t left after all. He’d come back to the room before she did. Looks like they were spending the night together.

Once, Petty would have blushed and felt her heart flutter at the thought. But now, all she could think about was the divorce papers hidden in the drawer and that Laura had already come back to the country. Whatever hope she had was gone.

Petty didn’t bother with the lights. She gritted her teeth and limped toward the sofa, her right leg throbbing with every step.

Whatever. She’d just make do on the couch tonight and wait for morning.

But she didn’t even make it that far. A strong arm pulled her back, throwing her off balance. She stumbled right into a broad, warm chest.

Before she could pull away, the hand around her waist tightened, holding her in place.

She felt Franco’s breath against her ear, warm and damp, and she shivered without meaning to.

It had been almost a year since Franco last touched her.

The room spun as he pressed her down onto the sofa, his heat almost suffocating. His kiss was deep, urgent, and she could barely keep up.

“Grandma says we should have a baby,” he murmured.

The words hit her like ice water. Petty’s mind flashed to the divorce agreement in the study, then to what Adelaide had said. She turned her face away from his, looking straight into his dark, hypnotic eyes.

Her throat burned. “Do you really want a child, or do you just want whatever Grandma promised you?”

Franco pinned her wrists above her head with one hand. He took off his glasses with the other, and without them, his eyes looked cold and sharp, almost wild.

This was the real Franco. The one he never showed anyone else.

“What’s the difference? You knew what you were getting into when you insisted on marrying me.”

Petty’s face drained of color.

“Isn’t that right?”

“Petty.”

He said her name with a softness that felt like poison. It sounded intimate, but for her, it was pure mockery. Every word cut deeper than the last.

The phone on the coffee table lit up with a cold blue glow, the screen spinning slightly from the vibration. The caller ID was clear as day.

Laura.

It was Laura calling.

Franco froze for a second. Petty used the distraction to scramble away, clutching her torn clothes tight, covering up the bruises from last night.

She dragged her aching leg and curled up in the farthest corner of the sofa.

A lamp flicked on, flooding the room with harsh light.

Franco’s tie hung loose around his neck, his shirt undone at the top, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

The phone kept ringing.

Petty looked so pale, her eyes bright red against her skin. She laughed, the sound flat and sharp. “Franco, your first love is calling. Aren’t you going to answer?”