Page 26 of The Dante (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #1)

JAZZ RUSHED into Titus’s office, her pulse roaring in her ears, her heels sinking into the thick carpet as she crossed the room in a panic. Every step carried the urgency of what she had overheard—the Senator’s phone call, the imminent threat to Titus.

Panic filled her, her mind racing through the worst possible outcomes.

Would he even believe her? Would he brush it off as another political maneuver?

She didn’t know. But she had to try. She had to make him listen before it was too late.

She had to warn him. Had to make him see the danger that was closing in aroundhim .

“We need to talk,” she said, voice edged with nerves, the extent of everything she had to confess pressing against her ribs. The pregnancy, the Feds, the Senator—each revelation a devastating typhoon waiting to break, and she had no idea how he would react to any ofit.

Titus simply leaned back in his chair, calm, unreadable, watching her with that same intensity that always made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff.

But before she could say another word, he reached into his desk drawer, pulled something out, and placed it on the glass surface betweenthem.

“Shall we start with this?” he asked.

Her breath caught.

It was her pregnancytest.

Jazz froze, every thought in her head screeching to a halt. The tiny, plastic stick that had sent her world tilting off its axis now sat between them like a detonator waiting to gooff.

Titus watched her reaction, his fingers tapping once against the arm of his chair before he spoke, voice smooth assilk.

“You’re pregnant.”

She sucked in a breath. “You— How—”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “I told you before, Jazz. Ialways know.”

Her stomach twisted. The words she had planned to say—the warning, the fear, everything she had rushed here to tell him—vanished in an instant. Her throat went dry, her pulse pounding in her ears as the urgency that had driven her here crumbled under the sheer weight of this revelation.

Relief flickered, but it was quickly swallowed by something else—disorientation, uncertainty.

She had spent the entire frantic drive here preparing to unload a storm of danger and deception at his feet, but now, the storm was inside her.

And suddenly, telling him about the Senator, about what she had overheard, felt impossibly far away.

None of that seemed as urgent as the conversation he had just forced upon her.

Not with him already knowing. Not with him holding the truth like a weapon.

Because now, the conversation wasn’t about threats or enemies. It was about them .

She crossed her arms over her chest, her defenses slamming into place. “How long have you known?”

The barest hint of amusement ghosted over his lips—though whether it was genuine or planned, she couldn’t tell. Was he toying with her, testing her? Or was he genuinely surprised by her reaction, by the fire in her voice? “As long as you. Maybe longer.”

Fury bubbled up inside her. “So you’ve just been sitting on this information? Watching me, waiting for me to—”

“Waiting for you to tell me,” he corrected, voice cool. “Which, clearly, you weren’t in a hurry to do.”

Jazz’s fingers folded into fists at her sides. “I was going to tell you.”

“When?” His gaze fixed on her. “After the Feds got to you? Or were you planning to keep it from me altogether?”

She flinched, abolt of panic shooting through her. “You know about the Feds?”

Titus’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening. “We’ll get to that.”

Jazz swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs.

“I was never going to keep it from you. Ijust... Ineeded to know for sure. And then the gala happened, and—” she released a shaky breath and shrugged.

“Everything started spinning out from under me. Ididn’t want to throw this at you when we were already having issues after everything that happened last night. ”

“Did you think I wouldn’t have eyes on you?” he asked, cutting her off. “That I wouldn’t know every single move you made? You’re mine, Jazz. Everything about you belongs to me. And that—” he gestured to the pregnancy test, his voice dipping lower, rougher, “— changes nothing.”

His words unnerved her, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of his possessiveness.

She stiffened, instinctively bracing against him, but at the same time, something inside her sparked—something unsteady, something dangerous.

He had always been like this, always watched her too closely, too deeply.

But now, with the pregnancy between them, the meaning behind those words felt different, heavier.

She took a breath, steadying herself. “You think knowing every single move I make bothers me?” she shot back, her voice quieter now, but no less pointed. “Because it doesn’t. It never has.”

And yet, everything about this moment felt different. The way he looked at her—calm, unwavering, as if he had already figured out how this would play out—unnerved her more than she wanted to admit. This wasn’t just another game of strategy between them. This was their child. Their future.

Her breath came fast now, fury warring with something deeper, something unsteady. “My pregnancy changes everything , Titus. Even if you refuse to see it.”

For the first time since she walked in, something flickered across his face—something she couldn’t name. But it was gone before she could grasp it, replaced by that same cold detachment that had always been his armor.

“Does it?” he murmured, his gaze locked onto hers. “Tell me, Jazz—what exactly do you think has changed?”

She stared at him, at the way he sat so still, so infuriatingly composed, as if none of this—her pregnancy, the life growing inside her—mattered. And maybe to him, it didn’t. Maybe he truly believed that nothing had changed. But for her? Everythinghad.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” she whispered. “This isn’t just about me anymore. It’s not just about you. We created something— someone —Titus. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. Ashift, subtle but there. “And yet, you kept it from me.”

Jazz let out a slow breath, frustration knotting inside her. “Because I was scared! Ididn’t know what to do, what to say. And after the gala, after everything that happened there, Ineeded a moment to figure it out.”

“A moment.” He echoed the words, rolling them over his tongue as if testing their flavor. “And if I hadn’t found out, how long would that moment have lasted?”

She hesitated. The truth burned on the tip of her tongue. I don’t know. Because deep down, part of her feared that knowing would make him colder, more distant, not softer like she had foolishly hoped.

But that wasn’t the whole truth. Because even now, even as she tried to justify it, asliver of guilt twisted inside her.

She had been afraid—afraid of how this would change them, afraid of giving him another reason to pull away.

But was that the real reason she had kept it to herself?

Or had she wanted, just for a little while longer, for this to be something that was only hers?

Something untouched by his world? The truth was, she wasn’t sure.

And that terrified her more than anything.

“I wanted to tell you,” she admitted, voice softer now, the anger giving way to something raw, something unguarded. “But I was afraid of how you’d react. Iwas afraid that if I told you, you’d turn it into a problem to solve instead of what it is—amiracle.”

Titus dragged his hands over his face before pinning her with those impossibly dark eyes. “You think I don’t understand what this means? You think I don’t already know what this changes?”

“Then show me!” she snapped, taking a step closer. “Because all I see right now is a man who’s pretending like he doesn’t give a damn that he’s going to be a father.”

Something in him snapped. One second, he was sitting there, impassive, unreadable. The next, he was up, moving, closing the space between them so fast she barely had time to breathe. His hands caught her hips, fingers digging in, pulling her close

“You think I don’t care?” His voice came rough, edged with something raw, something she hadn’t seen in him before.

The heat in his eyes sent a slow pulse through her, tightening around her chest. Jazz sucked in a breath, her body tensing at the force of his presence, the sheer strength of his emotion pressing against her like a physical thing.

She wanted to step back, to create space, but she couldn’t.

His grip on her hips was unyielding, and worse—she wasn’t sure she wanted to moveaway.

A part of her, the logical part, screamed that she should, that she needed distance, clarity.

But the other part—the one that had always been drawn to him, to the fire and fury and impossible depth of him—held her there.

His hands were firm, reassuring, and despite her frustration, despite everything between them, warmth spread from where he touched her, unfurling low in her belly.

It wasn’t just anger keeping her locked in place. It was something far more dangerous.

Then, after the briefest hesitation, his hands shifted, sliding lower, tracing the gentle curve of her stomach. His touch lingered, uncertain for the first time, as if he needed a moment to absorb the consequence of it—of her, of this .

A slow breath left him, his fingers flexing slightly before settling, palms warming against her skin. His touch wasn’t rough or possessive this time. It was reverent, careful, like he was searching for the truth of what lay beneath his hands.