Page 29 of The Dante (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #1)

“I CAN EXPLAIN.”

Jazz’s voice was unsteady, but Titus didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just stood there, back straight, arms folded across his chest as he leaned against his desk, his mind a storm beneath the surface.

Anger burned low and steady, abitter contrast to the cold pressure of betrayal settling deep in his gut.

First, the Feds. Now Vex. And finally discovering his assets were frozen.

She had gone behind his back—walked straight into the fire—and now, the flames were licking at both of them.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to demand answers or if his fury would snap the moment she spoke.

But one thing was certain—this wasn’t a puzzle to solve. This was a reckoning.

“Start talking,” he said, his voice barely restrained.

She swallowed hard, clearly struggling to find the right place to begin. “I had a doctor’s appointment to confirm my pregnancy. Idrove myself there. I—Ididn’t want anyone to know where I was going.”

“Why?” His voice was quiet, but tight, laced with an edge that made her stomach twist.

“Like I said… I wanted to confirm the pregnancy with the doctor before I told you.”

Her voice came quieter now, and Titus saw it—the way she pulled in on herself slightly, as if she could shrink away from the force of his stare.

She sat on the plush rug, nothing but her torn dress clutched against her chest, as if it could shield her from his fury.

But what was the point? He’d just had her—completely, utterly—but now, as he stood over her, unreadable, she looked more vulnerable than he had ever seenher.

A strange tightness formed low in his gut, but he shoved it aside. Vulnerability meant nothing in his world. Vulnerability was leverage. And right now, his wife was exposed in every possibleway.

She gripped the ruined dress tighter. His gaze swept over her, but not in possession—not like before.

Now, his stare assessed, stripping away the layers she tried to hold onto, peeling her open until she had nowhere to hide.

And in that moment, as her breath hitched and her fingers twisted and tangled into the fabric like she was holding onto something slipping away, he knew—

She’d just lost something she didn’t even realize she still held onto—trust, certainty, the belief that what they had was unshakable.

And it was completely, utterly his fault.

He saw it in the way her fingers trembled against the fabric of her dress, the way her breath came shallower, as if she were trying to hold onto something slipping through her grasp. And yet, he had to let her loseit.

Because if she didn’t, she would never walkaway.

“Why?” he repeated. “Why did you need to confirm it before you told me?”

She tucked a long strand of tangled golden hair behind her ear. “Because it’s life-altering news, and I needed to be sure before I dropped something like that on you. After everything that happened at the gala, I—Ididn’t want to add to the chaos unless I knew for certain.”

Titus didn’t react, didn’t even blink. His jaw clenched for a fraction of a second, the only sign that what she said affected him.

Despite that, he stayed silent, holding his body rigid, waiting.

He had learned long ago that silence was its own weapon, more piercing than any blade.

Let her scramble for words, let her try to fill the space with explanations.

He would wait, watch, and see what she chose to reveal first.

Would she try to soften the blow if she’d sold him out to the Feds? Would she tell the truth, or just the parts she thought mattered? Either way, it wouldn’t change what he already knew—she had gone behind his back, walked straight into danger, and now, they were both paying the price.

She hesitated, searching his face for any kind of reaction, but he gave her nothing.

“The agents were there. Outside the doctor’s office.

Reed and Foster. They must have followed me.

The moment I got out of the car, they approached.

They flashed their badges and insisted I come with them.

Itried to refuse, but they blocked my path.

They made it clear I didn’t have a choice. ”

Titus shifted, straightening slightly from where he leaned against the desk, his arms still crossed over his chest. “So, you went.”

She nodded, her throat tightening. “I immediately asked for a lawyer. They stalled. Told me one was on the way. But they never called one or allowed me to call. They just started questioning me.”

Titus’s patience thinned by the second. “And what did you tell them, Jazz? Every word. No omissions.”

She flinched at the coldness in his tone but lifted her chin defiantly. “Nothing. They tried to get me to turn on you, but I didn’t give them anything.”

He tilted his head, watching her carefully. She sat, naked in every sense of the word, with only the pendant he’d given her gleaming against her throat. “You expect me to believe you walked into an interrogation room with them and walked out untouched?”

“They didn’t have anything on me,” she argued, aflash of frustration sparking in her green eyes. “They were desperate. They wanted me to help them take you down. They even offered me a deal—immunity, in exchange for you.”

Titus lifted his hand, palm up, cutting off her words with a movement that was more severe than he intended. It wasn’t just a dismissal—it was a challenge. Atest. He needed to hear her answer, needed to know if she had even hesitated when they put that deal in front ofher.

His hand fisted slightly before flattening again, an unconscious tell of the tension winding through him. “And you didn’ t sign it?”

“No. Ididn’t even touch it.” Then she froze and her breath caught, her gaze fixing on his open palm. Her stomach flipped violently. “You have it too,” she whispered.

Titus didn’t move, didn’t close his hand, didn’t acknowledge the way her entire demeanor shifted.

But inside, something twisted, something old and buried that he refused to name.

The way she looked at him—eyes wide, breath caught, the whisper of realization on her lips—made his gut tighten.

He forced himself to ignore it, to brush past the clout of the Dante Brand, something that had existed in his family for generations upon generations.

“Good. I’m glad you didn’t sign their offer,” he said. He dismissed her reaction as if it meant nothing, despite the burning mark on his palm being the same one that had seared into his skin the moment he and Jazz first touched. The same mark that told him he could never let hergo.

The same mark his wife had on herpalm.

But it wasn’t nothing. Not to him, either.

He just couldn’t afford to acknowledge it—not now, not when everything was already falling apart.

If he let himself believe it meant something, then he had to believe in everything that came with it.

And that was a risk he couldn’t take. Not when he was about to send heraway.

Titus forced himself to look away from her, to shut out the pleading in her eyes. He clenched his jaw, forcing down the guilt gnawing at the edges of his restraint. If he let himself soften, even for a second, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do what needed to bedone.

Every part of him wanted to reach for her, to undo the damage of the last few minutes, but he couldn’t.

Instead, he steeled himself, shutting down the part of him that ached at the sight of her.

The way she had frozen at the sight of the mark, the way her breath had caught, it did something to him—something he didn’t want to name.

But he couldn’t let that matter. Couldn’t let it shift the course of what had to happennext.

He needed her to let this go. Needed her to believe it meant nothing. Because if she didn’t—if she started digging, searching for meaning in the things he refused to acknowledge—it would only make it harder when the time came to walkaway.

“You knew about this mark,” she accused, her voice hushed, disbelieving. “What you don’t know is that I didn’t betray you because of it. Because it burned for you. That has to mean something.”

Titus felt the words like a fist to the gut, but he didn’t let it show.

He forced himself to keep his expression blank, to act as if her words weren’t pressing against something deep inside him, something dangerous.

Because admitting it would mean admitting he could lose her.

And if he admitted that, she would never leave. And she had to leave.

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “It’s just a discoloration.”

“How can you say that?” Her voice broke slightly, her fingers tightening into fists. “It has to mean something.”

Titus closed his hand then, his expression cold, guarded.

Across from him, Jazz barely moved, but he saw it—the slight tightening of her jaw, the way she closed her hand, like she was trying to wrap up the Brand in her fist. She didn’t flinch, didn’t back down, but there was something else in her eyes.

Hurt. Resignation. Maybe even something he wasn’t ready to name.

And still, she held his gaze, refusing to look away first.

“It doesn’t mean anything in my world, Jazz.”

Jazz’s shoulders sagged slightly as his words settled over her. Atremor ran through her, barely visible, but he saw it. Felt it. Despite that, she stayed rooted where she was, her breathing uneven, her expression a tangled mix of hurt and defiance. But he wasn’tdone.

“And then there’s Vex. Shall we get to what happened with the Senator?”

Her body tensed. That fraction of a second before she answered told him everything he needed toknow.

“I went to him,” she admitted. “I was trying to reason with him.”

Titus felt something dark and bitter erupt inside him. Disbelief, anger—something sharper, something closer to betrayal. “Reason?”