Page 92 of Ivory Obsession

“Absolutely not,” I shot back, venom seeping into every syllable. I felt cornered, wild, the way animals must feel when they’re about to get their throats cut. The silence that followed was a living thing, thick and suffocating.

“Stay put. I’ll see you soon,” he said, his voice a steel cable that tethered me to the spot. There was no mistaking the command, the iron will behind the words. The line went dead before I could argue, leaving the apartment drowning in a quiet so heavy I could almost feel it on my skin.

I stood there, phone still pressed to my ear, the echo of Dante’s last words haunting the static air. My heart hammered against my ribcage, demanding attention, demanding action. Dante Moretti was coming, and every instinct screamed at me to run, hide, disappear. But where does one hide when the shadows themselves are out for your blood?

My heart was a drumbeat out of sync, the rhythm jagged and frantic as I yanked open the closet door. Getting away was still the plan. I just needed to make sure to do it…right now.

The suitcase—a plain black affair with scuffed corners from too many conferences—came off the top shelf and landed with a thud that matched the chaos in my chest. Hands shaking, I flipped it open and started tossing in clothes.

I didn’t care about folding or sorting; it was a mad dash against the clock. Jeans, shirts, my favorite sweater—the one that felt like a hug on cold nights—all thrown in without a second thought. I snatched my toothbrush from the bathroom, a handful of undergarments, then my laptop—my lifeline to the work that had consumed my life until now. Until him.

“Think, Jade, think,” I muttered to myself, the words a lifeline as I rifled through drawers for my passport and any cash I had stashed away. Hotels, motels, anywhere with a bed and a lock would do, just somewhere to clear my head, to figure out my next move. My mind raced—calculations, escape routes, contingency plans—anything to stay one step ahead of Dante Moretti and his relentless grip on my world.

The dread knotted up inside me, dense and heavy, threatening to drag me down into panic. But I couldn’t afford to lose it—not now. So I focused on the essentials, on survival, because that’s what scientists did: we adapted, we evolved, we survived. And right now, survival meant getting the hell out of dodge before Dante decided my time was up.

My hand stilled on the zipper of my overstuffed suitcase as a knock, sharp and insistent, shattered the chaotic rhythm of my packing. My breath hitched, heart slamming against my ribs like it was hell-bent on escape. Edward’s smug face flashed in my mind, but the terror that gripped me now was colder, more visceral.

I crept to the door on legs that felt like they were made of lead, every step deliberate, as if walking through water. Another knock, louder, more demanding, cut through the silence that had reclaimed my apartment.

Peering through the peephole, my gaze collided with Dante’s—a man who could command an army with a look. His eyes, dark pools in the corridor’s dim light, gave nothing away. I knew that expression.

I didn’t like it.

“Jade,” his voice filtered through the door, a low rumble that had once made my stomach flutter. Now, it only tightened the knot of dread lodged firmly in my throat.

I told myself that my best bet was to remain quiet. That I could pretend I wasn’t there, that would be easier.

I tried to take deep breaths, to still my hammering heartbeat in case he could hear it.

Unfortunately, my body had other plans. Before the logical part of my mind could stop it, my hand reached out, twisting the doorknob until it relinquished its hold and swung the door open just a fraction, the chain snapping as it did.

“Dante,” I whispered through the small gap. His muscular frame filled the rest of my view, his intimidating presence seeming to absorb all of the light in the hallway. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I was lost in their depths, a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

“Why are you here?” I demanded.

“I told you. I wanted to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. Go away.”

“Jade, open the door,” Dante commanded from the other side, his voice a mix of velvet and iron—impossible to ignore. My fingers coiled around the cool brass knob, every instinct screaming at me to bolt, but where would I go? I couldn’t exactly leave my apartment through the fire escape.

“Give me a reason,” I shot back, defiance flaring up to keep the panic at bay. “Because right now, you just seem like a fucking asshole.”

There was a beat of silence, and I could almost hear him weighing his next words. “We need to talk, Jade. It’s not what you think.”

“Talk,” I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me. “That’s rich, coming from you. Talk now?” But even as anger fueled my words, doubt gnawed at me.

“Please,” he said, a single word laced with an urgency that tugged at the edges of my resolve. There it was—the crack in his armor, the sincerity that made it hard to keep hating him.

“No,” I said. “I’m not doing this.”

But as I tried to close the door on him, he put his foot in the crack and stopped me.

“Just give me five minutes,” he said.

“No!” Struggling against the pressure he was putting on the door, my heart pounded in my chest like a war drum, my hands slick with perspiration as I pushed with all my might. “You’re not coming in.”

But it was too late. In one swift motion, Dante had taken the chain off the door and shoved it open, stepping inside. His towering figure blotted out the faint illumination from the hall