Page 25

Chapter Twenty-Five: Jade

I didn’t want to go home.

I found myself in Dante’s lobby…wishing I had gone home.

But I stood there, the lobby of Dante’s penthouse swallowing me in its opulence. The early evening light filtered through the high windows, but the glow did nothing to ease the chill wrapped around my heart. I was pregnant, and the father...well, he was why I was here, caught in a web I never saw coming.

My hands rested on my stomach. I thought about Ellie, my confidant turned Judas, sharing my secrets with Enzo Moretti like they were cheap currency. Betrayal stung sharper than the winter air outside.

“Evening, Dr. Bentley,” the doorman said, tipping his cap. His familiar, polite nod couldn’t mask the surprise in his eyes, seeing me stand there lost in thought.

“Evening,” I managed, my voice a ghost of itself.

His gaze lingered a moment too long, and that’s when the weight of my discovery about Ellie hit full force. Maybe I should turn back, leave before Dante could arrive and wrap me up in his world again. But my feet felt glued to the marble floor; escape wasn’t as simple as willing it.

Clearly.

The marble beneath my heels felt as cold as the realization gnawing at me; I had nowhere else to go. Then, he was there. Dante Moretti stepped in from the biting chill of the early evening, the closing door a soft click in the vast lobby.

“Jade,” he said, his voice a low thrum that always seemed to vibrate right through me. He paused just inside, his coat dusted with the beginnings of frost, dark hair slightly disheveled from the winter wind. There was no mistaking the immediate shift in his expression—from the commanding mafia don to the man who watched me with eyes that didn’t miss a thing.

“Hey,” I replied, trying to sound casual, but my voice betrayed me with its shaky delivery.

Dante closed the distance between us in a few measured strides, his presence as impactful as always. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concern etching lines around those intense eyes that now studied me with a softness reserved for our private moments.

I shrugged, an attempt to deflect his scrutiny. “It’s nothing.”

“Jade.” His hand reached out, resting lightly on my arm, a silent offer of support I hadn’t realized I craved. “Talk to me.”

His touch sparked something raw within me, and I had to remind myself to breathe. The warmth of his hand seeped through the fabric of my blouse, grounding me despite the chaos in my head. In that moment, I wished I could tell him everything. But words were dangerous things—especially when truths could cost you everything…and when the doorman could easily overhear us.

The chill from the marble floors of the lobby seeped through my soles, but it was nothing compared to the ice in my veins. I glanced at my reflection in the polished surface of the elevator doors—a pale ghost of myself—and the weight of everything bore down on me.

“Jade?” Dante’s voice cut through the fog in my head. “What can I do?”

Before I could form a single coherent thought, the dam inside me cracked. Tears welled up, and with them came an avalanche of despair and betrayal. My knees buckled, and everything inside me shattered into sharp, jagged pieces.

Dante caught me as I fell, his arms encircling me in a hold that was both a fortress and a cradle. For a brief, mad moment, I allowed myself to lean into the strength of his embrace, his warmth a stark opposite to the cold dread that had taken root in my heart.

“Please,” I managed to choke out between sobs, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in a world gone mad. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Shh,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. Fingers gentle yet firm stroked my back, soothing the tremors that racked my body. “I’m here, Jade. Tell me how I can help you.” His words were simple, direct, but they carried the weight of an oath.

Looking up into his eyes, I saw not the feared mob boss, but the man—Dante—who’d shown me unexpected kindnesses even as we navigated this impossible situation. And for one reckless heartbeat, I believed he might just be my salvation.

But the moment Dante asked how he could help, a labyrinth of emotions tightened around my chest. My lips parted, but words failed me. The truth was, I didn’t have a clue what I needed.

“Everything’s just so messed up,” I confessed, my voice barely louder than the hum of New York City outside the lobby’s glass doors. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Dante’s gaze searched mine, his expression etched with concern. “Let’s not worry about all that right now,” he said firmly, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the chaos of my thoughts. “Come upstairs. We’ll drown out the world with the worst reality TV you can find and stuff our faces with whatever junk food you’re craving.”

His suggestion should’ve been laughable, trivial even, considering the gravity of everything else. And yet, there was an earnestness in his eyes, a steadfast resolve to pull me out of this spiral, if only for a night.

I stepped back from Dante’s chest, the warmth of his embrace still lingering like an afterimage against my skin. My eyes flicked upward, catching the low light that gilded the edges of his dark hair, turning it into a soft halo of disarray.

“Okay,” I said, letting a small, incredulous laugh bubble up from somewhere deep inside. The corner of my mouth quirked upward, a reluctant smile acknowledging the absurdity of finding solace in such a simple plan. “Let’s do it. Junk food and reality TV.”

“Perfect,” Dante replied, the trace of a smile tugging at his lips as if he’d scored a small victory against the gravity of our world.

And right then, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

***

I settled into the plush cushions of Dante’s couch, a plate of chicken wings balanced precariously on my lap. The TV flickered with the over-saturated blues and greens of some tropical island—a stark contrast to the snowy cityscape outside his penthouse windows. I took a bite, letting the spice linger on my tongue as I tried to shake off the remnants of my fight with Ellie.

“Look at this guy,” Dante said, gesturing at the screen. “He’s gonna get voted out today for sure.”

I laughed, “Can’t say I’ll feel sorry for him. He’s been stirring up trouble since day one.”

Dante’s deep chuckle echoed in the room, a warm sound that brought an unexpected comfort. He switched his gaze from the TV to me, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Is this how you relax?” I asked him, nudging his side with my elbow. I was trying to lighten the mood before we delved into the heavy conversation that was surely coming.

He shrugged nonchalantly before stealing a quick glance at me. “In your company? Definitely.”

“Oh, shit, I think you were right,” I said. “He’s getting voted out.”

“I’m psychic.”

I smirked at his assertion, shaking my head as the island’s host read out the doomed contestant’s name. The man’s face dropped into a shocked grimace, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. On any other day, this would be just a mindless distraction. Today, it felt like a lifeline.

Laughter faded as the last credits rolled across the TV screen, the room now filled with the subtle hum of the city that never sleeps. The playful energy from our banter still lingered in the air, a welcomed reprieve from the day’s earlier discord. I leaned back into the couch, my fingers lightly coated with the remnants of spicy sauce, and sighed contentedly.

“Jade,” Dante said, his voice suddenly serious, cutting through the lighthearted atmosphere like a swift change in weather. “Are you ready to talk about it?”

His question hung between us, charged with an anticipation that made my heart skip its steady rhythm. Everything around us seemed to fall silent, waiting for me to breach the walls I’d so carefully built. His dark eyes held mine, gentle yet probing, silently urging me to open up.

I nodded slowly, setting down the half-eaten wing onto a plate. It felt like stepping off a cliff, not knowing if there was something to catch me at the bottom. My voice, usually so sure and steady, wavered slightly as I spoke.

“Ellie has been spying on me...for Enzo,” I confessed, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. The vulnerability I felt was unfamiliar, unwelcome. It gnawed at the edges of my calm demeanor, exposing the raw concern beneath.

“Wait. Enzo, as in, my dad?”

I nodded.

“Everything I thought we had, every moment with her, it feels tainted now.” I reached for a napkin, wiping away the vestiges of spice from my hand, wishing I could do the same with the sting of betrayal. “I don’t understand how she could do this to me, Dante. To us.”

The silence in Dante’s penthouse swallowed my admission, heavy with the weight of betrayal. I watched him closely, half-expecting the brooding intensity that often accompanied our discussions of the darker facets of our lives. Instead, his reaction came like a soft exhale, a breeze rather than the storm I had braced for.

“Enzo,” he said simply, his voice low but devoid of the edge I anticipated. There was no shift in his posture, no clenching of fists or jaw. His demeanor remained as calm as the quiet evening around us, his dark eyes still fixed on mine with an understanding that caught me off guard. “How long?”

“Since the start, I think,” I murmured, feeling a strange sense of comfort in his acceptance of the harsh reality.

Dante nodded slowly, the corners of his lips turning down in a frown—not of anger, but of contemplation. “Betrayal is like a shadow here, Jade. It lurks in every corner, under every whispered promise.”

I pulled my legs up onto the couch, wrapping my arms around them. “Why though? Why is it so common in our…your world?” The question slipped out, fueled by a mix of curiosity and the ache of fresh wounds.

“Power,” Dante responded without hesitation, his gaze shifting to the skyline visible through the expansive windows. “In this life, trust is currency, and everyone’s trying to be rich. People will do anything for a piece of that power, even if it means turning on their own.”

“Is that all we are then? Just pieces on a board to you people?” I couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped into my tone.

“Jade,” he turned back to me, his expression softening. “Not to me. You’re not just another piece on the board. You never were. You never have been and you never will be.”

“I…”

Dante’s fingers–which were, weirdly, immaculately clean–touched mine. “Jade,” he said, and I could hear the weight of unspoken vows in his voice. “I need you to understand something.” His gaze locked with mine, as steady and unwavering as the man himself. “There’s no betrayal in my heart when it comes to you or our child. You both are my future, my priority. And I’ll protect that with everything I am.”

I studied Dante’s face, searching for any hint of deception. But all I found was the raw honesty of a man who had seen too much, yet still dared to hope. “I believe you,” I replied, the words tumbling out with a certainty that surprised even me. It wasn’t just his assurance that convinced me; it was the shared experiences, the vulnerability we’d glimpsed in each other.

Dante’s thumb traced the line of my jaw, a silent question lingering in the space between us. The heat from his touch seemed to travel directly to my core, and I leaned into him instinctively, seeking the warmth that only he could provide.

“Kiss me,” I whispered, no longer able to resist the pull of desire that Dante ignited within me.

He smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay.”