Page 23

Chapter Twenty-Three: Dante

T he door to Enzo’s study clicked shut behind me, sealing off the brisk chill of the early evening. Marco, perched on one of the chairs, a leg dangling carelessly over the armrest, was the first to catch my eye. He offered a half-hearted smirk, but I barely registered it. My thoughts were a whirlwind, all centering around Jade—her smile, her strength, the child she carried that was half mine.

The fact that she hadn’t given me an answer.

The fact that she hadn’t reached out to me.

“Sit down, Dante,” Enzo’s voice sliced through my preoccupation like a knife through silk. It wasn’t a request; it was an order. The old man sat behind his desk, his face set in that familiar stern mask that spelled out business—and not the kind we declared on our taxes.

I didn’t sit. Not yet. Instead, I studied him for a moment, trying to read the lines etched into his weathered face. Maybe I was looking for a hint of softness, some fatherly concern that mirrored my own fears for the future. But if it was there, it was buried deep beneath years of ruthlessness and command.

“Fine,” I muttered and finally took a seat across from him, feeling the leather of the chair grip my suit pants. Marco quit his fidgeting, sensing the shift in the room’s atmosphere. We were about to dive into deep waters, and nobody wanted to be the one who couldn’t swim.

“I called you here to talk about the RICO case. The FBI and the NYPD are circling us like vultures. What are we doing about it?”

I couldn’t sit still. The words “RICO case” fell from Enzo’s lips, and I was on my feet again, pacing the room like a caged animal. My father’s study suddenly felt too small, the walls inching closer with every sentence he spoke about wiretaps, laundered money, and potential sentences.

“An FBI agent paid us a visit.” Enzo’s voice cut through the thick tension in the air. “Either of you want to tell me why?”

My brother Marco shifted uneasily in his seat. I stopped mid-stride, my heart hammering against my chest—not for myself, but for Jade. What if they’d been watching her too?

I didn’t tell him about Detective Rodriguez. There was no need for him to know.

“Nothing’s come my way, Dad,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside. “Been too caught up with...” I trailed off, not wanting to bring Jade into this—into anything that could touch the Moretti name.

“Marco?” Enzo’s gaze was fixed on my younger brother, who looked like he might bolt from the room any second.

“No, no visits,” Marco replied, his voice a notch too high. “I’ve been...out of the loop.”

“Out of the loop.” Enzo repeated the phrase slowly, letting it hang in the air before dismissing it with a wave of his hand. “We can’t afford ignorance—not now.”

I leaned against the mahogany bookshelf, trying to calm the storm of thoughts churning through my mind. Outside, the early evening light was fading, casting shadows across the leather-bound volumes that lined Enzo’s study. My father remained seated behind his desk, a fortress of authority in an ever-shifting landscape.

“Legal fronts,” I said, focusing on the matter at hand, “are tight. Our casinos and clubs are clean.” I needed him to understand where my efforts had been—where they had to be, for Jade and our child.

“Good.” Enzo nodded, his dark eyes sharp as obsidian. “And Marco?” Enzo’s gaze shifted, sliding toward my brother with the subtlety of a knife’s edge.

Marco looked like a deer caught in headlights, his usually slick composure slipping away under our father’s scrutiny. “Uh, well,” he stuttered, the words tumbling out awkwardly, “I thought the plan was to keep a low profile, you know? With the heat on us.”

“Low profile doesn’t mean stop,” Enzo shot back, his voice a quiet rumble of thunder. “Money flows, even when the streets go quiet.”

“Understood, Dad,” Marco finally managed, his usual bravado reduced to a mere whisper in the grandeur of Enzo’s study.

Enzo nodded, seemingly satisfied, but I knew better than to think this was over. Making money was one thing; protecting what was mine was another. I straightened, ready to brace against the coming storm. For Jade, for our future, I’d face down anything—even the empire that bore my name.

The chair groaned under my shifting weight as I broke the silence. “I’m thinking of transferring my share of stocks to Jade at BioHQ,” I said, tossing a bomb into the conversation that could either clear the path or detonate everything we’d built.

Enzo’s eyebrow arched, a silent question mark etched on his face. “You think that’s wise?” he asked, his voice threading through the air like a warning.

“Whether I give her the shares or not, our child will be a Moretti,” I countered, leaning forward, my elbows digging into my knees. “It’s a solid move. Jade is sharp—she’ll handle it.”

“BioHQ isn’t a toy for your mistress,” Enzo replied, his tone sharpening. “It’s an empire we’re building.”

“Jade is not my mistress,” I said. “She’s my future wife.”

“Does she know that?” My dad asked.

The air in Enzo’s study clung to my skin, thick with the must of old books and the sharp tang of skepticism. I stood my ground, eyes fixed on the man who’d ruled our empire with an iron fist, now raising the barriers to my escape plan.

“Let me be clear, Dante,” Enzo began, each syllable a calculated drop into the stillness between us. “Your sentimentality could crack the foundations we’ve bled for. You’re not seeing the whole board.”

“Seeing it? I’m living it.” My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into palms. “It’s not just sentiment. It’s strategy. With Jade, we bring BioHQ closer. We secure a future for—“

“Or we invite scrutiny we can’t afford,” he cut in, his voice cool as the steel of his gaze. “You stake too much on this...emotional gamble.”

Frustration knotted in my chest, tight and suffocating. But beneath it, the ember of resolve burned hotter, searing my resolve into something unbreakable. This was about more than money or power. This was about Jade, our child, and the life I yearned to offer them—one far from the blood-stained legacy of the Moretti name.

“Jade isn’t a liability,” I shot back, my voice low but firm. “She’s brilliant. If anyone can navigate this, she can.”

“Brilliance doesn’t shield you from a bullet, son.”

“Well, it could shield my child, so…”

“Don’t rush into this. Let me do my due diligence before you transfer anything over to her,” he said. “Marco, start collecting payments again. You’re both dismissed. And go see your mother, will you? Both of you have been shot and you haven’t spent more than an evening with her. How do you think she’s dealing with this?”

With that, Enzo leaned back in his chair, signaling the end of the meeting. The conversation swirled in my mind, a storm of possibilities and challenges. I knew my father would take every step necessary to investigate Jade before letting her anywhere near the Moretti empire, and Marco would be back under pressure trying to balance loyalty and law breaking.

Standing up from the chair, I nodded at my father, “Understood,” and turned towards Marco. His face had lost some of its usual color, looking like he wanted to disappear into the ground. We both knew our mother was another battlefield we hadn’t yet won; our recent wounds were a constant reminder of the world we were born into—a world we couldn’t escape without consequences.

But our mother at least knew what she had been getting into.

Did Jade?