Page 13 of The Dante (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #1)
His fingers continued moving in slow, possessive strokes along her back, mapping the shape of her, committing her warmth to memory as he decided how much he could give her without giving away too much.
“Sovereignty is the foundation of every empire, Jazz. You can’t own something without knowing how to protect it.
How to expand it. That means influence. Command.
Making sure things go the way they need to. ”
Her lips parted, and he could see the conflict in her eyes. She wasn’t na?ve, but she wasn’t from his world either. “So, you don’t just own things. You make sure no one else can take them from you.”
His grip tightened slightly. “That’s part of it.”
She let out a slow breath, as if weighing his words. “And your brothers? What do they do?”
He wasn’t surprised by the question—he had been waiting for it. Jazz wasn’t a pawn. It was her inquisitive nature, her stubbornness that had drawn him to her. Yet, there were parts of his life he wasn’t used to discussing, even in moments likethis.
His world wasn’t like hers. It didn’t operate on fairness or trust—it thrived on strength, on the ability to read between the lines and always be three steps ahead.
Sharing details of his business wasn’t just about information, it was about power, control.
And control was something he never gave freely.
But she wasn’t just anyone. And that made it harder to keep his guardup.
His hand slid to her waist, fingers pressing lightly, before moving up to her arm, tracing a slow path along her skin.
He felt the fine shiver that passed through her, the subtle way she leaned into his touch, and it only tightened the grip she had on his thoughts.
The warmth of her skin seeped into his palm, anchoring him in the reality of her—of this moment.
He let himself indulge in it, for just a heartbeat, before forcing down the sentiment, steeling himself against the threat of losing his tight grasp on his emotions.
How much could he give her without giving away too much? How much did she alreadyknow?
“You’ve met my brothers,” he finally said, keeping his tone neutral. “Cade and Zane. They have their roles.”
“And what are those roles, exactly?” she pressed, tilting her head slightly to look up at him. “I’ve heard people call Zane ‘The Enforcer.’ Cade’s ‘The Chief.’ What does that actually mean?”
Titus threaded his fingers through her hair, his grip firm but deliberate. “Zane handles security, threats, anything that needs... enforcement. Cade advises. He’s the one who sees the angles before anyone else does, the one who can talk his way into or out of anything.”
Jazz considered that for a moment before lifting her chin. “And what’s your role? Why do they call you The Dante?”
Titus let the question hang, savoring the question.
Did she really not know? Or was she testing him, seeing if he’d dodge the truth?
He could feed her the answer she expected, the one that kept her at arm’s length.
But something in the way she held his gaze made him hesitate, made him want to give her something real.
Even if he wasn’t sure what that wasyet.
“Because in this world, names carry influence. Reputation. Dante isn’t just a last name—it’s a statement.
It means being in charge, victory, an empire that doesn’t crumble.
My father built the foundation, but I’m the one who fortified it, expanded it.
Imake the decisions no one else will. When people hear my name, they know exactly what it means—I’m the one who decides who wins and who falls. ”
Jazz’s brow furrowed slightly. “And what if someone in your family doesn’t want to play the game anymore? What if they don’t want to win at all costs?”
He met her gaze, his voice low but certain. “They don’t have that option. I’m the one who makes sure the family always wins.”
Something flickered in her expression—curiosity, wariness, maybe a little of both. “Wins what, exactly?”
“Everything that matters.” His grip on her waist tightened slightly, as if reinforcing the truth in his words. “Loyalty. Family. Survival. There’s no second place in our world, Jazz. Either you win, or you lose. And I don’t lose.”
She didn’t flinch, didn’t look away, but he could see the gears turning in her mind. “And what happens to the people who do?”
He studied her, debating how much he should give her. She deserved honesty, but honesty had layers. “Depends on who they are. And how badly they lost.”
She swallowed, her fingers pausing against his skin.
“So everything is a game to you. Astrategy.” Her voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it—curiosity, maybe, or something heavier.
Her brow furrowed slightly, as if she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hear his answer or feared she already knewit.
“Not everything.” His hand slid up, fingers tangling in her hair, tilting her head slightly. “Not this.”
She searched his face, as if trying to decide whether she believed him. “Then tell me something real, Titus. Something that isn’t calculated.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He could lie, give her something easy, something that wouldn’t mean anything. But that wasn’t what she was asking for. And, despite himself, he found that he didn’t want to give her anything but the truth.
“I protect what’s mine,” he said finally. “No matter what it takes. No matter the cost.”
Jazz’s breath hitched, but she didn’t look away. “And am I yours?”
His grip in her hair tightened, his other hand sliding possessively over her hip. “You already know the answer to that.”
Her body softened against him. “I don’t know what it means to belong to someone like you, Titus.” Her voice was quiet, but the hesitation was there, an uncertainty she couldn’t quite mask.
Titus leaned in, his lips brushing against her temple. “It means you’re part of my world now. You’re my queen, Jazz. Nothing and no one will ever hurt you.”