Page 68 of Ivory Crown
I hesitated, my mind warring with the raw honesty that wanted to pour out. “I did,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. My confession was true; the intensity of the sensations had been unlike anything I’d ever felt. But another truth gnawed at me, sharp and unwelcome. “But it made me feel trapped. You made me feel trapped.”
“I mean, you were trapped,” he said. “You are trapped. I wish you weren’t but…”
“Right. That was the point,” I said, meeting his stare head-on.
Dante’s expression softened, a shadow of regret passing over his features. “Jade,” he began, his tone imploring, “you can’t try to escape. You’ll get hurt.” He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks. “And that’s the last thing I want. I need you to understand that. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
His words were a cold splash of reality, a reminder of the gilded cage I found myself in. I nodded slowly, the weight of his declaration settling over me like a shroud.
We moved together toward the living room, our bare feet silent on the cool marble floor. Dante’s presence was a tangible force, enveloping me in warmth despite the absence of clothing.
“I’m sorry, Jade.” The words tumbled from him unexpectedly, laced with an emotion that seemed foreign on his lips—regret.
I turned to look at him, the apology catching me off guard. For a fleeting moment, the barriers crumbled, and I saw the man beneath the mafia prince façade. “Why are you apologizing?” I asked, my voice a mix of confusion and curiosity.
“Because I never wanted to hurt you.” His admission pierced through the armor I had carefully constructed around my heart. I believed him. “Come on. Let’s eat.”
We settled onto the plush rug, the comfort of the fabric a small consolation in the vastness of his penthouse. Dante reached for the paper bag, and the aroma of greasy burgers and fries filled the air, grounding me back to simpler pleasures. As he handed me a wrapped burger, the warmth of his fingers brushed against mine, sending a jolt of awareness through me.
“Jade,” he said again, his voice low and coaxing as if reading my mind, “do you want to go out tonight?” His question lingered between us, an invitation that both tempted and unnerved me.
I hesitated, searching his face. I wasn’t sure whether to take him up on it…I know what happened when I went out with him. Yet, the promise of fresh air, a taste of normalcy, was too enticing to ignore.
“I thought you didn’t want me to go out.”
Dante’s expression softened, the predatory edge that so often defined him giving way to something more gentle. “Not without me. You won’t be protected without me. But I think you need a break from these walls.”
He was right. The stir-crazy sensation that had been nagging at me for days now clawed relentlessly at my consciousness. Despite the risks, the thought of another evening confined within these four walls was suffocating.
“Okay,” I agreed, the word barely above a whisper but decisive.
“Good.” Dante’s smile was quick and genuine. “Let’s find you something beautiful to wear. We’ve got a night to enjoy.”
As I bit into my burger, the simple act felt like sealing my consent. Tonight, I would step out of the shadows and into a sliver of light, however fleeting it might be.
Soon enough, it was night.
The evening air was a cool caress against my skin as we stepped out of Dante’s penthouse. I could feel the city’s pulse, like a living thing, with its rhythmic heartbeat and electric veins stretching into infinity. The blue dress clung to my curves in a way that felt both empowering and vulnerable, while Dante, ever the embodiment of controlled power, looked sharp beside me in his suit.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice a low hum that resonated with the promise of the night ahead.
I nodded, the motion slight but determined. “As I’ll ever be.”
The car engine purred to life beneath us as we pulled away from the curb. The city lights blurred past, their reflections dancing across Dante’s face, revealing a man caught between darkness and light. He glanced at me, and for a moment, his usual armor seemed to falter.
“Before we go out to eat, there’s something I need to ask you.”
I waited for him as he seemed to steel himself.
“I want to go to the hospital. Tonight, I want you to meet someone,” Dante said, his tone casual but his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “My brother, Marco.”
“Your brother?” The words tumbled out, a mix of surprise and apprehension tangling in my throat.
Dante’s eyes met mine, steady and searching. “He’s... different from me. But he’s family.”
“Is this a test?” I asked, half-joking but feeling the weight of the question press down on me.
“A test? No. He’s going to be part of the baby’s life so it’s important that you two meet. Think about it,” his lips quirked up in a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know he’s curious about you. He’s protective of me, in his own way.”