Page 79 of Ivory Obsession

I threw off the covers, the chill of the night air striking against my skin, contrasting with the warmth still lingering from where we had lain together. My feet met the cold floorboards, sending a shiver up my legs that had nothing to do with the temperature. I needed Dante. The need pulsed through me, urgent and demanding.

Padding quietly across the bedroom, I approached the bathroom, my sanctuary turned ominous by shadows that played upon the walls. The apartment felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. I paused, my hand hovering over the door handle, the soft hum of electricity from the lightbulbs the only sound in the silence.

I heard quiet talking coming from inside. That made sense, the bed was still warm and Dante couldn’t have gone too far.

Then Dante’s voice, muffled but distinct, sliced through the stillness. Low and tinged with annoyance, it crawled under my skin, raising hairs on the back of my neck. I stood there, hand frozen mid-air, heart pounding against my ribs. Should I go in? Or should I wait?

“Just handle it,” he ordered, a simple command that carried more weight than I could fathom. My breath caught as I pressed my ear closer to the door, trying to decipher the tension woven into his every syllable. The ‘Caruso problem’ he mentioned—a name that meant nothing to me, yet seemed to mean everything to him.

I strained to hear more.

“You heard me, Luca. Clip one of Caruso’s men. Can you get a capo?” Dante’s voice was strained, the frustration clear even through the barrier between us. I didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as I waited for the response I couldn’t hear.

There was a silence from his end—likely the person on the line was answering him—and then Dante spoke again, his tone sharp like shards of glass. “Well, then get another henchman. Just make it clear — tell him to back off Jade.”

That’s when my world tilted. The words crashed into me, every syllable a dagger aimed straight at my heart. He was talking about violence, about retribution. All because of me. That had been no figure of speech earlier.

Fear and confusion spun in my mind, creating a sickening cocktail that threatened to overwhelm me. This was a side of Dante I hadn’t known, a side that perhaps I had refused to see.

The click of the phone ending the call was brutal in its finality. It echoed in the room, bouncing off the walls and inside my skull. I stepped back, a shaky exhale escaping my lips as I tried to process what I’d just heard.

Dante, the man who could be gentle and caring—the man I’d fallen for—was cloaked in shadows so dark I could no longer pretend they weren’t there. My chest tightened, my stomach knotted with cold dread. There was a world he belonged to, a world of power plays and threats, and I knew so little about it.

I was faced with the stark reality of who Dante was, or at least part of who he was, and it left me standing in the hallway of my apartment, feeling more alone than ever.

I glanced down, my hand instinctively resting on my abdomen. Beneath the thin fabric of my pajama shirt, my fingers traced the secret I carried—our child, a life we created together. The weight of this knowledge was immense, pressing down on me, stealing my breath with its gravity.

I had always dreamed of having a family, but this... this was a twisted mockery of every hopeful picture I had painted in my mind. How could I bring an innocent soul into this chaos? How could I tie a child to a legacy of brutality and bloodshed?

Dante emerged from the shadows of the bathroom, clad only in his boxers, an odd juxtaposition to the violence that clung to him like a second skin. He looked at me, his gaze searching, a trace of vulnerability flickering behind the storm brewing in his eyes. He didn’t have to say anything; the silent questions hung in the air between us.

“Jade,” he said softly, his voice a velvet caress that belied the harshness of his earlier words. “What’s wrong?”

I wanted to scream, to unleash the torrent of emotions that threatened to suffocate me. Instead, I swallowed hard, forcing back the tide of words that fought for release. Now wasn’t the time for confessions or ultimatums. Now was a moment suspended—a precarious balance between what was known and the unspoken truth that lay heavy in my heart.

I needed to keep this quiet, for my unborn child’s sake.

“Nothing,” I lied, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. It was a feeble attempt to shield both of us from a confrontation neither was ready for. “Just woke up and noticed you weren’t there. Thought I’d come check up on you.”

Dante closed the distance between us, his presence enveloping me. I could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the barely restrained power of him. He reached out, his hand gently cupping my face, thumb caressing my cheek in a tender gesture that contrasted sharply with the man who had just been issuing threats over the phone.

“Talk to me, Jade,” he urged, his voice low and earnest.

But how could I? How could I reveal the storm raging inside me—the fear, the love, the desperate desire to protect something so fragile from the very man before me?

“Later,” I whispered, knowing that sooner or later, this conversation would have to happen. But not now. “I think I just woke up during a bad dream or something.”

“Later then,” Dante agreed, though the concern never left his eyes. He pulled me into an embrace, his arms a refuge that offered comfort despite the turmoil surrounding us. For now, I allowed myself to sink into his arms.

As I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, I made a silent promise to myself and to the life growing inside of me. Whatever it took, I would find a way through this labyrinth of secrets and lies. Love and fear might be entwined within me, but my resolve was solidifying. I would fight for our future—even if it meant going up against the shadows that clung to Dante Moretti.

He pulled away from me. “Jade, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” I answered too quickly, the lie stinging my tongue. His eyes bore into mine and for a moment, I was sure he could see through the façade. But he merely nodded, wrapping a protective arm around me as we made our way back to bed.

“If the dream was bad, I can eat you out until you fall asleep with my tongue inside of you,” he said.

A soft gasp escaped my lips at his brazen words, the immediate physical response coursing through me, momentarily banishing my sorrow. His offer was enticing - a distracting contrast to the dark world he inhabited. It was this Dante, the sensual and passionate lover, who made it so hard to reconcile with the violent reality I had glimpsed earlier.