Page 22 of The Dante (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #1)

After the gala, when everything had fallen apart between them, she had kept it to herself, unsure of where they stood. And after that, she had convinced herself that she should wait for confirmation from the doctor, just to be certain.

But now, with the truth clawing at her conscience, she knew she couldn’t keep it from him much longer. Her heart beat a little faster, her grip tightening as she imagined his reaction. Would he be relieved? Shocked? Angry that she had kept it to herself?

She shook her head. He deserved to know, and more than that—she wanted to tell him.

Jazz gripped the wheel tighter. What would he do with that knowledge?

Would it change the way he saw her? The way he handled everything?

Would it make him fight harder against whatever Vex was pulling him into, or would it make him more desperate to secure his authority, to ensure their child was protected no matter thecost?

She didn’t know. And that terrified her more than anything.

Her turn was coming up. She signaled, merging into the right lane. The clinic was only a few minutes away now. She would focus on that. One thing at atime.

Jazz took the final turn and pulled into the parking lot of the doctor’s office, easing the SUV into a space near the entrance. She cut the engine and sat there for a moment, staring at the glass doors ahead.

Behind her, the sleek, nondescript sedan pulled in as well, settling into a spot a few rows back. It hesitated for a moment, as if the driver was considering their next move, before rolling smoothly into place.

Jazz caught the movement in her rearview mirror but dismissed it.

Just another car. Just another ordinary morning.

Her thoughts were too tangled in everything else to question why the vehicle hadn’t pulled into a space closer to the entrance, or why its engine idled just a few seconds longer than necessary before shutting off.

Her thoughts were too distracting to pay attention to something as mundane as another car pulling into thelot.

She sighed, pressing a hand to her stomach again, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath beneath her palm. Was she ready for this? Was she ready to hear the doctor confirm what she already knew deep in her bones?

A part of her longed for that certainty, to have something undeniable to anchor herself to. But another part of her feared it—feared that saying it aloud, hearing it spoken back to her, would make everything even more real. And once it was real, she would have to tell Titus.

She had no idea how he would react, but she knew one thing—after today, nothing would ever be the same.

The warmth of the simple gesture should have been comforting, but uncertainty filled her.

She wanted this baby. She wanted Titus to know.

But she also needed to be sure—needed the verification the doctor would give her, something undeniable to hold onto before she changed everything betweenthem.

She swallowed, straightened her shoulders, and steeled herself for what was tocome.

Jazz stepped out of the SUV, her fingers lingering on the door handle for half a second longer than necessary, as if some instinct deep in her gut was warning her to stay inside.

The morning air hit her, crisp and cool, but the sense of unease that tightened in her chest had nothing to do with the temperature.

Two men moved toward her with purpose. Not casual, not hesitant—just smooth, deliberate steps that ate up the space between them.

Suits. Federal agents. The kind of men who didn’t make requests, only demands.

Their posture was too rigid, their movements too precise, the intensity of their gazes coldly assessing.

They weren’t just here for a conversation.

She barely had time to register the way they positioned themselves—one slightly ahead, the other angled to cut off any easy exit.

It wasn’t accidental. It was calculated, deliberate, the kind of maneuver used by men accustomed to control.

Asubtle but undeniable shift closing in around her before she even had a chance to decide her nextmove.

Her back stiffened, her instincts flaring, but before she could react, one of them spoke.

“Mrs. Dante?” The taller of the two spoke, his voice clipped and official as he reached into his jacket, flashing a badge with a practiced flick, the gold catching the light for just a second too long.

The movement was deliberate, meant to impose, to remind her exactly who was in charge here.

“Agent Reed. We need you to come with us.”

Her stomach lurched, but she kept her expression even. “I’m sorry. Ican’t right now. Ihave an appointment.”

“I’m Agent Foster and this won’t take long,” the second man added, flashing his badge, as well. “We insist.”

Jazz squared her shoulders, fighting the unease creeping through her. “I really can’t miss this. It’s important. If you need to speak with me, you can go through my husband’s lawyers like everyone else.”

Agent Reed didn’t blink. His expression remained unreadable, but something about the way his gaze held hers made her stomach tighten. “We’re not ‘everyone else,’ Mrs. Dante.”

She caught her breath, keeping her stance firm. “No, you’re not. But that doesn’t change the fact that I have somewhere to be. Idon’t answer to you.”

Reed tilted his head slightly, his brows drawing together in feigned skepticism, as if debating whether she was telling the truth or stalling for time.

He let the silence stretch between them, his gaze studying her too closely, searching for hesitation, aflicker of doubt.

Then, he shook his head. “Who’s your appointment with?

” he asked, dragging out the question like he was rolling it around in his mind.

“And this appointment—it’s urgent enough to dodge federal agents? ”

Jazz saw no reason to lie. There was no crime in going to a doctor, no reason to act as if she were hiding something. So she met Agent Reed’s gaze directly, lifted her chin, and answered clearly. “It’s with Dr. Vasquez. And yes, it’s urgent enough to delay a meeting.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Foster pulled out a phone, typing quickly. Jazz watched as his expression shifted—just the slightest flicker, but enough. His posture straightened. His fingers tightened around the device.

Reed caught on immediately. “What is it?”

Agent Foster’s eyes flicked to Jazz before he turned his phone toward Reed, his thumb hovering over the screen as if to silently confirm what he’d just found.

Reed’s gaze dropped for barely a second before a slow, knowing smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

His expression shifted—subtle, but unmistakable.

He looked at Jazz as if he’d just solved a puzzle.

“You’re pregnant.”

The world seemed to tilt. Jazz’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening instinctively around the strap of her purse.

The pavement beneath her feet felt unsteady, as if the entire parking lot had shifted just slightly off balance.

Achill skated through her, despite the warmth of the sun.

She forced herself to swallow, to steady her breathing, but her heart pounded so loudly in her ears it nearly drowned out the sounds of the morning traffic beyond thelot.

The air around her suddenly felt thinner, constricting, as if the world had closed in an inch too tight. They didn’t know before. Now, they did. And that changed everything.

Her fingers instinctively reached for her pendant, the cool metal pressing into her palm as she wrapped her fingers around it.

It was a subconscious gesture, atether to something steady when everything around her felt like shifting earth.

The heft of it reminded her of who she was, of what was real beneath the web of manipulation being spun aroundher.

She had to regain control—not just of this moment, but of the narrative they were trying to seize from her.

She had wanted confirmation before telling Titus—but not like this.

Not with men like Reed and Foster standing before her, treating her pregnancy as nothing more than another leverage point, another piece of information to wield againsther.

She forced herself to remain unmoving, to mask the turmoil brewing inside. They had the upper hand now, but she wouldn’t let them see how deeply this revelation rattled her. She lifted her chin, locking her expression into something unreadable, even as her heart pounded beneath herribs.

The taller agent’s expression hardened, the polite pretense slipping. “Mrs. Dante, we need you to come with us now.” His voice remained calm, but there was a new edge beneath it, something unmistakable. “Let’s not make this more difficult than it has to be.”

Jazz forced herself to stay calm. “I don’t think so.”

She turned, intending to walk toward the office doors, but Agent Reed shifted, blocking her path with a deliberate ease that made it clear he’d anticipated her everymove.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Mrs. Dante.

” Reed’s voice was level, but there was something underneath it now—awarning laced with quiet menace.

“I’d think carefully about your next move.

Because one way or another, you’re coming with us.

The only difference is whether we do this the easy way or the way that makes headlines. ”“

She stiffened. “I’m making it hard? Itold you, Ihave an appointment.”

Foster took a slow step closer, his expression unreadable but deliberate.

His movements were premeditated, assured—like a man who knew he had already won.

There was no hesitation, no doubt. Just certainty.

Aswift shift of weight, asubtle narrowing of his eyes, as if he were sizing her up, waiting for her to understand the inevitable.

“If you don’t come willingly, we’ll make this a problem. For you. For him.”

Jazz’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t a request. It was a warning, aline drawn in the sand.

The way Reed held himself, the slight shift of Foster’s stance—it all spoke of inevitability, of men who already believed they had won.

This was a move carefully played, and they were waiting for her to realizeit.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. If she refused, they’d escalate. They’d draw attention, twist the story before she had a chance to prevent it. And if they did that, Titus would hear about it—through whispers, through reports, through whatever mess they chose to create.

She clenched her jaw. She hated being cornered, but she hated even more that they were right. They had taken charge of this moment, boxed her in with just a few designed words, and now, she had to decide whether she was going to fight or be smart.

And right now, the smarter choice was clear.

She gave a single nod. “ Fine. Let’s go.”

The agents didn’t gloat. Reed and Foster exchanged a brief glance, something unreadable passing between them— approval, perhaps, or quiet satisfaction.

They had her, and they knew it. They simply moved, one stepping ahead of her, the other behind, guiding her toward an unmarked sedan parked a few rows back, right where it had been sitting, watching, waiting.

Jazz’s steps faltered, abarely perceptible hesitation.

The car had been there the entire time—lying in wait, like a trap she hadn’t seen until it was too late.

Her breath came shallow, her pulse a slow, heavy thud in her ears.

The moment she stepped inside, the door would shut, and she would be theirs—at least fornow.

The door creaked open as they approached, the faint scent of stale air and old leather wafting out.

It was the kind of car meant to blend in, to be forgotten, yet now it felt like a cage waiting to close around her.

Jazz hesitated just for a second, her pulse quickening, before climbing into the backseat.

She didn’t look back at the clinic. At what she was leaving behind—her appointment, her certainty, the last shred of control she thought she had over her own choices.

The moment she stepped into the car, the course of her day, maybe even her life, was no longer her own. But there was no turning backnow.

Her hands trembled at her sides before she forced them to still, fingers pressing briefly into the fabric of her dress.

She willed her body to cooperate, to project the composure she didn’t quite feel.

The movement was small, barely perceptible, but necessary—aprotective act to keep herself from unraveling.

Titus couldn’t find out about what they were orchestrating—not from them, not before she had a chance to prepare him. If they got to him first, if they framed this in a way that made him see red, she didn’t know what he’ddo.

That was the real fear—the unpredictability.

Not just his anger, but the strength of his reaction, the strength he could unleash when he felt cornered.

He would retaliate, and if he did, there would be no undoing the fallout.

If the wrong people got to him first, if they twisted the truth before she could explain, she didn’t know how he’d react.

And that uncertainty terrified her more than anything

If the Feds wanted to use this as leverage, she had to stay ahead of them. She had to make sure she was the one managing the narrative, notthem.