Page 6 of The Dante (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #1)
JAZZ STOOD before the massive closet, fingers grazing the fabrics of dresses and blouses arranged with meticulous precision. The sheer volume of it all made her pause. These weren’t her clothes.
Everything was new—dresses she had never picked, fabrics she had never touched, all carefully chosen and placed here for her.
By him. Astrange ripple passed through her, amixture of gratitude and uncertainty.
It was overwhelming, realizing how much he had thought about this, about her.
He had anticipated her needs before she even had a chance to consider them herself .
She turned, meeting his gaze where he stood leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with quiet patience. “You did this?”
“I wanted you to be comfortable here,” he said, his voice steady, unreadable. “To move easily in my world.”
Her fingers grazed the silk of one dress, the softness of another. He hadn’t just picked things for her—he had chosen things that would suit her, things that felt like an extension of herself. It wasn’t about manipulation. It was consideration.
The tension in her chest eased, just slightly.
The reality of the morning clung to her skin. It lingered in the press of Titus’s hands, in the heat of his mouth. In the quiet, unshakable certainty of his presence. Even now, she could feel his eyes on her, watching from where he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, waiting. Always waiting.
She focused on the simple act of getting dressed. One step at atime.
Elegant, but understated. That’s what she needed. Nothing that would draw too much attention, nothing that would make her feel like she was playing a role in someone else’s life. Just something that let her breathe.
She pulled a soft cream-colored dress from its hanger.
Before slipping it on, she reached for the delicate lace undergarments folded neatly in the drawers, appreciating the soft luxury against her skin.
She hesitated for a brief moment, aflicker of self-consciousness creeping in, which was ridiculous considering everything they’d done last night and this morning.
And yet, the awareness lingered, making her fingers pause for just a heartbeat before she finished dressing.
The silk glided over her, molding effortlessly to her figure.
She had to admit—Titus had good taste. The fabric was cool against her skin, smooth and airy, draping over her in a way that felt both elegant and natural.
It was the kind of dress that made her feel put together without effort, aquiet luxury that whispered rather than shouted.
He hadn’t just chosen beautiful things—he’d chosen things that made her feel good in them.
Then she fastened the tiny buttons at her wrist, taking a steadying breath.
“Perfect,” Titus murmured, his voice low, approving.
She met his gaze in the reflection of the mirror.
He had already dressed—black slacks, acrisp charcoal button-down, the sleeves rolled just enough to expose his forearms. He looked powerful, completely at ease in his own skin.
It wasn’t fair how naturally he settled into himself, while she felt like she was trying to find her footing.
She turned toward him just as he pushed away from the door, stepping closer. He held something small between his fingers, the faint glint catching the light.
“Wear this.”
It wasn’t a request.
Her breath caught slightly as she looked down at the delicate gold pendant he held—aphoenix, simple yet striking, suspended on a thin chain. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the wings etched with fine detail, as if caught mid-flight.
She swallowed. “A phoenix?”
Titus reached behind her, fastening the chain at her nape, his fingers grazing her skin. “A symbol of resilience,” he murmured. “Of rebirth.”
Her pulse jumped at the intimacy of the moment.
Of what it meant. It wasn’t just a piece of jewelry—it was a declaration, aquiet claim.
The weight of it settled against her collarbone, warm from his touch, areminder that he saw her in ways she wasn’t sure she was ready for.
Did he mean it as a simple gesture, or was it something more?
Something unspoken, deliberate? The thought sent another flutter through her chest, one she couldn’t quite define.
His fingers lingered a beat longer before he stepped back, his gaze heavy on hers. “It suits you.”
Jazz pressed her fingers to the pendant, feeling the warmth of the metal against her skin.
Agift. Achoice he had made for her. Emotion swelled in her chest—gratitude, maybe even something softer, something she couldn’t quite name.
She turned to him, stepping closer, and without overthinking it, she rose onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Aquiet thank you. Arecognition of the gesture.
Titus stilled, his gaze darkening as he studied her, as if committing the moment to memory. The air between them thickened, charged with something unspoken.
Jazz’s stomach tightened—not with fear, but with awareness. The strength of his attention sent a slow heat bubbling through her, unsettling and undeniable. Did he expect more? Did she want him to? The thought made her shiver.
Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached up, brushing his fingers over the curve of her jaw, his thumb lingering just beneath her chin. “You’re welcome, wife.”
Titus led her downstairs, his hand warm at the small of her back as they moved through the sprawling house. The scent of fresh coffee and something rich and buttery drifted from the kitchen, mingling with the quiet murmur of voices ahead.
Jazz had barely had time to process the morning, let alone prepare herself for whatever this brunch entailed. Aswirl of emotions sat heavy in her chest—anticipation, atouch of anxiety, and something she couldn’t quitename.
There was an odd sense of belonging, yet a lingering uncertainty about her place in this world Titus had woven around her.
She had chosen this, yet the burden of that choice settled in unexpected ways.
Was she ready for this? For all of it? She inhaled slowly, steadying herself.
This was her new life. Her new family. And whether or not she felt ready, she had no choice but to step intoit.
The family dining room felt inviting, acontrast to the grandeur she expected.
It was warm, intimate, with a long oak table bathed in sunlight from the large windows overlooking the back gardens.
The scent of freshly baked bread filled the air, along with the unmistakable pop of a champagne bottle being opened.
Sam Mirabella’s voice rang out. “Mimosas, anyone? Let’s make this a celebration!”
Jazz barely had time to react before she was suddenly under scrutiny.
Two men stood as Titus guided her forward.
“You remember my brothers,” Titus said smoothly.
The first, alarge, broad-shouldered man with dark eyes and a quiet intensity, nodded. “Zane,” Jazz greeted him. She remembered that others called him The Enforcer, aname that suited the quiet dominance he carried.
The second, taller and leaner, with a knowing grin that didn’t quite hide the astuteness in his eyes, stepped forward. Before she could speak, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, the gesture smooth and effortless. “Little sister,” hesaid.
“Good morning, Cade,” Jazz replied, her voice even, though she was keenly aware of the scrutiny in hisgaze.
Titus had once referred to Cade as the Dante Chief and Consigliere, atitle she had assumed was a joke at the time. Now, standing here, seeing the calculating intelligence in his eyes, she wasn’t sosure.
She grew more keenly aware of the two. Zane, the unshakable force who exuded quiet dominance, the one people feared for good reason. And Cade, the strategist, the charmer—the man whose easy smile could put you at ease right before he dismantledyou.
She looked between them, taking in their stark differences. Zane’s presence was quiet but absolute. Cade, on the other hand, seemed more fluid, the kind of man who could smile while slipping a dagger between yourribs.
“Welcome to the family,” Cade added, eyes glittering with interest as he studied her. “Or should I say, welcome to the kingdom?”
Jazz arched a brow. “Kingdom?”
Zane shot his brother a look. “ Ignore him.”
Titus’s lips twitched. “Cade enjoys being dramatic.”
Cade lifted his glass in a mock toast. “I enjoy being accurate.” Jazz couldn’t quite tell if he was joking or making a point.
His words held a lightness, but beneath them, something harder lurked.
Achallenge, maybe. Or a warning. She wasn’t sure which, and that uncertainty sent a flicker of unease throughher.
She folded her arms, tilting her head. “Accurate how?”
Cade took a slow sip of his drink, clearly enjoying the moment.
“Think about it, little sister. Adynasty built on family, loyalty, and success. Aleader at the helm.” He gestured toward Titus with his glass.
“The king. An enforcer who keeps order.” He inclined his head toward Zane.
“And a chief to guide the strategy and keep things running smoothly.” He tapped his own chest with an easygrin.
Jazz glanced at Titus, half-expecting him to dismiss it outright. Instead, he merely held her gaze, his expression unreadable.
“So what does that make me?” she asked, her voice steady despite the flicker of apprehension creepingin.
Cade’s smile widened. “That’s the real question, isn’t it? Maybe Queen?”
Jazz wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she settled for a polite smile.
Across the room, Sam poured his second—or was it third?—glass of champagne. His laughter rang out just a little too loudly, his gestures exaggerated, his attempts at casual conversation forced.