The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 351

She put down her glass of milk and headed straight for the front door, but she barely got two steps before Franco caught her by the wrist and pulled her right into his arms.

He lifted her chin, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to look at him. He was so tall, so cold, and the sight of him made her pulse jump. Embarrassment and anger twisted together inside her, turning her voice sharp and biting. “What? Am I wrong?”

Of course she wasn’t. He was an expert at this. That’s why she had always ended up running in circles around him.

Franco’s gaze locked on her, his eyes dark and unyielding. Her own eyes were still red, stinging with humiliation, and his hand at her jaw grew even firmer.

For a second, Petty thought she heard him sigh. The grip on her wrist tightened, sending a shiver of pins and needles across her skin where his callused fingers pressed. She tried to ignore it, tried to pull away, but her body was all too aware of that electric contact.

“It was just a photo,” Franco said quietly. “Something to fool the others. There wasn’t any marriage certificate.”

His old unit wanted him to get fake papers, to really play the part and marry his female informant. Instead, he’d compromised with a single photograph. He hadn’t put his fake name on any piece of paper.

His fake name was Malcom.

Petty was quiet for a beat. He watched her, waiting. She looked almost stunned, her eyes blinking up at him. Then his eyes seemed even darker, deeper somehow. “You don’t believe me?”

She broke away from his hand on her chin and turned, staring out at the flowers rustling gently in the wind. She pressed her lips together, stubbornly silent.

Time seemed to stretch between them. Only then did Petty remember to try and shake his hand off her wrist. He just clenched tighter, refusing to let go.

“So,” Franco said, “do you believe me or not?”

Petty gave him a tired, mocking glance. “You’re always the one talking. You were the one who promised you wouldn’t divorce me. Now you’re telling me you never married your informant. How am I supposed to know what to believe? How do I know which words are real and which ones are all lies?”

“If you don’t believe me,” Franco said, his voice strained, “then why ask?”

His hand was still closed around her wrist, veins standing out on his skin. His eyes were stormy, emotions swirling there like black waves.

His low voice came out rough and thick. “Isn’t this what you like?”

That question caught Petty completely off guard. The words seemed to dissolve in the wind, and she stood frozen, uncertain.

The sea breeze swept through the field, stirring the wildflowers at her fingertips. She didn’t know what he meant, didn’t understand why he’d say such a thing—what she liked?

Her gaze drifted beyond the garden to a glittering lake just ahead, encircled by blooms. It was shaped like a crescent moon.

All at once, Petty turned to face that moonlit water. A memory she’d almost forgotten came rushing back, filling her mind all over again.