Page 15 of The Dante (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #1)
It must have happened the very first time they’d made love and neglected to use birth control.
Her throat went dry, her breath catching somewhere between panic and awe.
Awave of dizziness swept over her, the edges of her vision tightening for a brief moment.
She gripped the edge of the sink, anchoring herself, but her fingers trembled against the cool porcelain.
The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick, and she forced herself to take a slow, steady breath.
It didn’t help. Nothing would—not when the earth beneath her had shifted in a way she could neverundo.
A baby. Alife she hadn’t planned for, hadn’t even let herself consider.
And yet, here it was—undeniable. This changed everything.
The realization hit her like a tidal wave, her mind scrambling through the implications, the consequences, the sheer gravity of what this meant.
The world around her felt suddenly different, heavier, as if she’d stepped into a reality where every step forward would be uncharted territory.
Swallowing hard, she wrapped the test in tissue, careful and deliberate, as though hiding it properly would somehow delay the reality of it.
She buried it deep in the trash can, pressing it down beneath layers of discarded tissues and makeup wipes.
She pressed the lid down a little harder, as if that could bury the truth along with it.
But the knowledge clung to her, aheavy weight in her chest. Out of sight, but never out ofmind.
Later. She’d deal with this later. She wasn’t ready to tell Titus yet—not tonight, not before Senator Vex’s charity gala. There wasn’t time to process what this meant for her, for them. Would he be happy? Would he see this as a complication?
The uncertainty clawed at her, but she shoved it down.
For now, she had to focus on getting through the evening without slipping up.
She had to. Right now, there was no time to sit with the reality pressing in on her, no space to unravel the emotions threatening to spill over.
The night ahead demanded poise, the carefully curated mask she’d so recently perfected.
So she locked the truth away, burying it beneath a deep breath and the pointed command to focus.
Forcing herself to breathe, Jazz turned toward the mirror and smoothed a hand down her stomach.
Nothing looked different. She didn’t feel different, other than some breast tenderness and her period being a few days late.
And yet, everything inside her had already shifted.
The knowledge of what had just happened made her body feel foreign, like she was inhabiting something new, something fragile.
Her fingers hesitated over her abdomen, hovering there, uncertain.
Was she imagining it, or did her body already know?
She almost pressed her palm flat against herself, as if she could somehow sense the change, but the thought sent a pang of vulnerability through her.
She forced her breath to steady and shook her head.
Not now. Not yet. With a deep breath, she turned away, forcing herself back into the present.
Titus was waiting.
She was late, and he was a stickler for timeliness. Especially tonight.
Pushing the pregnancy test to the back of her mind, she focused on getting ready, slipping into the sapphire-blue gown Titus had chosen for her.
The fabric hugged her curves, elegant and flawless, the deep neckline showcasing the delicate gold phoenix pendant resting against her collarbone—the same pendant he’d given her weeks ago.
She reached for it instinctively, rolling the charm between her fingers.
It steadied her. Just like it alwaysdid.
She’d tell him later tonight. After the gala. When they were alone.
She grabbed her phone, hesitating for just a moment to check whether they’d were open before taking a steadying breath and dialing the doctor’s office.
As the line rang, she braced herself for the usual back-and-forth, expecting to be told she’d need to wait at least a week, maybe two, before she could be seen.
But the moment she gave her name, the receptionist’s tone shifted—smoother, more attentive, as if an unspoken urgency had suddenly takenhold.
“Tomorrow morning at nine?”
Jazz hesitated. “That soon?”
“Yes, Mrs. Dante. We’ll see you then.”
She barely had time to process the unease snaking through her before the call ended. Why were they so quick to fit her in? Achill hit her as suspicion settled in. Was it just routine, or had the influence of her last name shifted things?
The thought sent a fresh wave of apprehension running through her, making the reality of her situation feel even more inescapable.
The sudden efficiency unsettled her, the unspoken clout of her new reality pressing against her chest. She glanced at the phone screen, her thumb hovering over the call log as if she could somehow undo it, take back the truth. But there was no taking itback.
Her gaze lifted to the mirror, and she swallowed against the lump in her throat. Shoving the phone into her clutch, she hurried downstairs, where Titus was waiting.
And God, did he lookgood.
Dressed in a tailored black tuxedo, his dark eyes swept over her the moment she stepped into the room, that slow, assessing gaze that never failed to make her skin heat. Asmile—small, knowing—curved his lips as he closed the distance betweenthem.
“You’re late,” he murmured, slipping a hand around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “But I think this time, Idon’t mind. You look amazing.”
She swallowed hard, forcing a gentle smile. “I had to make sure I looked the part.”
“You always do.” He brushed his lips against her temple, the warmth of his breath sending heat burning through her.
His tone was warm, but she didn’t miss the quiet intensity beneath it. He’d been patient these last few weeks, more at ease than usual, but Titus Dante was always watching, always attuned to the smallest shifts around him. It was part of who he was—part of why no one ever caught him off guard.
Tonight would be no different.
As they stepped outside, the crisp night air swirled around them, carrying the faint scent of jasmine and pavement still warm from the sun.
The sleek black town car waited, its polished surface gleaming under the soft glow of the streetlights.
The driver, ever professional, already had the dooropen.
Titus guided her inside with an effortless grace, his touch lingering at the small of her back.
She slid into the plush leather seat, smoothing the fabric of her gown as he settled beside her.
The hum of the engine purred beneath them, and the city lights streaked past the tinted windows, ablur of gold and neon that only added to the quiet tension threading through her chest.
For the past several weeks, things had been perfect.
No stress. No looming threats. Just them.
She had let herself bask in it, let herself believe that they had carved out something real, something lasting.
And tonight, with his hand resting possessively on her thigh, the warmth of his body so close, she wanted to believe it would stay thatway.
But secrets had a way of unraveling, slipping through even the most carefully laid plans. Jazz had seen it before—in whispers that turned into weapons, in the way trust eroded under the influence of ambition. She had spent enough time in Titus’s world to know that nothing stayed hidden forever.
Just like her father, who had once believed he could quietly claim his daughters’ inheritance as his own, burying himself in debt until that secret unraveled in the worst possible way. And now, her secret was ticking away like a time bomb, waiting for the moment it would detonate.
And hers had an expirationdate.
Titus’s fingers trailed idly along her leg, his thumb brushing against her skin with casual intimacy. “You’re quiet.”
Jazz blinked, dragging herself back to the present. She forced a smile. “Just thinking.”
He studied her for a moment, dark eyes sharp and unreadable. Then, with a slight squeeze to her thigh, he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. “Whatever it is, forget it for tonight.”
Easier said than done. Jazz clenched her jaw and forced herself to look out the window, watching as the city lights smeared across the windows like streaks of liquid gold, stretching and shifting with every turn of the car.
She resisted the urge to press her palm against her stomach, to confirm what she already knew was true.
The weight of it pressed down on her, an invisible force she couldn’t shake. But she had to. At least for tonight.
Because while the gala loomed ahead, glittering with wealth and masked intentions, while hidden agendas would dictate every conversation, Jazz knew the real storm wasn’t unfolding in the grand ballroom or behind closed doors.
It was inside her, shifting, growing, changing everything she thought she knew about her future.
And soon, there would be no hidingit.
The moment the town car pulled into the circular drive of the hotel hosting the gala, the atmosphere shifted. The night had settled into a crisp stillness, but here—beneath the glow of the chandeliers spilling from the grand entrance—the air buzzed with energy.
Through the car windows she saw flashbulbs strobed, illuminating the well-dressed elite stepping onto the long, scarlet carpet stretching toward the entrance.
The bursts of light were blinding, creating a dizzying contrast of brilliance and shadow.
For a moment, faces disappeared in the wash of brightness, only to be revealed again in fractured glimpses—amosaic of elegance, ambition, and carefully curated personas.