Page 7 of The Dante (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #1)

Jazz narrowed her eyes, watching him. Something was off.

His issues had been resolved—at least, they were supposed to have been.

So why did he seem so nervous? Was it just old habits, or was there something more lingering beneath the surface?

Apart of her wanted to go over there, press him, make him admit whatever was gnawing at him, but she hesitated.

Sam was a gambler in more ways than one.

If he was hiding something, would he even tell her the truth?

Instead, she watched, noting every too-wide grin, every overly eager gesture, filing it away for later.

To her relief, her sisters Poppy and Lily approached, their warmth immediate. Poppy’s elfin features softened into a smile as she took Jazz’s hands. Jazz caught the way her sister studied her, searching, as if making sure she was truly all right.

Then Poppy’s expression eased, relief flickering in her eyes. “It’s good to see you this morning.”

Lily, equally welcoming, but far more outrageous chimed in. “You must be exhausted. Iimagine Titus can be… a lot.”

Jazz let out a soft laugh, warmth blazing in her chest. “That’s one way to putit.”

But beneath her amusement, something deeper stirred. She should feel exposed, maybe even embarrassed at how easily her happiness showed, but she didn’t. Instead, aquiet sense of pride settled inher.

She had chosen this, chosen him, and for the first time, she realized she wasn’t second-guessing herself.

The thought was startling—and maybe a little terrifying.

She knew she should temper her reaction, keep things neutral, but it was impossible to hide the lingering glow of last night, the way her body warmed with the memory of Titus’s hands, his mouth, the way he had made her feel cherished and wanted in ways she hadn’t expected.

She met Lily’s gaze and caught the knowing glint in her eyes, as if she could see right through her. Jazz simply took another sip of her mimosa, unwilling to give anything away justyet.

Poppy’s eyes flickered down, catching the delicate gold pendant resting against Jazz’s collarbone. “Oh! That’s beautiful,” she said, reaching out to gently touch the charm. “Titus got this for you?”

Lily leaned in, studying the fine detail of the phoenix. “It’s stunning. And fitting. Aphoenix—rebirth, strength… I like it.”

Jazz’s fingers brushed over the pendant, feeling the warmth of the metal against her skin. “He gave it to me this morning. Said it suits me.”

Poppy smiled. “I love that. It’s thoughtful. And definitely more meaningful than just a random gift.”

Jazz wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she let out a small laugh, brushing a thumb over the charm. “I guess it is.”

Behind Poppy, her husband lingered, Soren’s expression unreadable. He stood close to his wife, his posture protective, his incisive gaze sweeping over Jazz before flicking to Titus. There was tension there.

Jazz knew why. She thought back to everything that had led to this moment—the tangled history between Titus, Soren, and Poppy. Titus had once set his sights on Poppy, believing she was meant to be his wife, but fate had other plans.

Poppy had married Soren, and their history had been complicated from the start.

Titus had once been engaged to Poppy, not out of love but because of a premeditated arrangement created by their father, Sam.

When she chose Soren instead, Titus had let her go, but turned his attention to Jazz.

To this day, she didn’t know why he’d chosen her overLily.

And yet... She’d married him, anyway. That choice had felt inevitable, like a pull she couldn’t resist, yet now it left her questioning everything.

Did she make the decision for herself, or had she simply been swept up in the force that was Titus Dante?

Did she truly understand him, or had she only scratched the surface of a man who revealed only what he wanted others tosee?

The thought unsettled her. And yet, beneath the uncertainty, there was something else—something warm, something terrifyingly certain. Apart of her didn’t regret it atall.

Despite everything being settled, Soren carried an edge of mistrust where Titus was concerned. Maybe because no one truly came out of a deal with The Dante without some kind of debt, spoken or unspoken.

Maybe it was because Soren knew men like him and understood there were always layers beneath every action.

He had seen firsthand how Titus maneuvered, how he never made a move without considering the long game.

Did he think Titus had an ulterior motive in all of this?

That marrying Jazz wasn’t just about her, but about something bigger, something unseen?

Or was it simply the instinct of a man who had spent too long fighting to protect what was his?

Whatever it was, the tension hadn’t faded, and Jazz could feel it now lingering betweenthem.

To everyone else, it seemed like the issue had been resolved, but the wariness in Soren’s posture told her otherwise. He was here, but he wasn’t at ease. Atall.

Jazz noted the way his fingers flexed slightly at his sides, the stiffness in his shoulders.

It struck her as odd—Soren had been there for the wedding, seen everything resolved, yet he looked as if he were waiting for something to go wrong.

Did he still not trust Titus? Or was it something deeper? Something she couldn’tsee?

For a brief moment, she considered going over to him, smoothing things over, but she hesitated. This wasn’t just tension—it was something else entirely. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t hers tofix.

Jazz didn’t have time to dwell on it as they all moved toward the table.

Conversation ebbed and flowed as plates were passed around, filled with freshly made omelets, crisp bacon, and golden croissants.

Poppy kept the conversation light, while Cade and Zane offered commentary that often had Lily laughing in delight.

Sam, eager to play host, kept everyone’s glasses full, though Jazz noticed the way his hand shook slightly when he reached for the bottle.

Titus, ever observant, leaned closer to Jazz. “Comfortable?”

She swallowed her sip of mimosa and met his gaze. “It’s… a lot.”

He gave her a knowing smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

Would she?

Before she could answer, Poppy touched her arm, drawing her attention. “Come outside with me?”

Jazz hesitated, but Poppy’s expression was open, sincere. She nodded, allowing her to guide her through the kitchen and out onto the stone pathway leading into the garden.

The air felt cooler here, fragrant with blooming roses and jasmine.

Everything looked beautiful—manicured, peaceful, yet somehow untamed around the edges, as if nature remained always on the verge of reclaiming it.

In a way, it reminded her of Titus— calm, refined, yet with something deeper, wilder, lurking just beneath the surface.

He commanded his world with precision, but there was always a sense that he held something back, that his constraint was a choice, not a limitation.

Poppy tucked a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear. “I wanted to talk to you about something important.”

Jazz turned to face her fully. “Okay.”

Poppy hesitated for only a second before speaking, her fingers twisting together before she stilled them. “The inheritance.” Her voice was steady, but Jazz caught the brief flicker of something in her sister’s eyes—determination, maybe, or the faintest trace of guilt.

Jazz’s stomach dipped. Memories from the past few months rushed through her—her grandfather’s inheritance, bypassing Sam entirely, falling into Poppy’s hands. Then Sam, reckless as always, had gambled himself into a hole and used that very inheritance as collateral at one of Titus’s casinos.

It was that debt that had first entangled their family with Titus.

That was why he had been engaged to Poppy in the first place.

And when she married Soren instead, Jazz had thought that connection was severed.

But somehow, for reasons she didn’t fully understand, Titus had turned his attention to her instead.

The inheritance had always loomed in the background, afortune tied to conditions, expectations, and consequences that none of them had fully understood.

She had assumed it was no longer relevant after Poppy had married Soren, that whatever financial ties existed between them had been settled. But clearly, that wasn’t thecase.

Poppy continued. “Titus doesn’t know, but if I refuse the money, it goes to you.”

Silence stretched between them, thick with the gravity of something Jazz couldn’t quite define.

Adistinct mix of shock and unease struck her, leaving her uncertain whether to feel trapped by this revelation or relieved by the security it offered.

Did this change anything? Should it? The significance of the decision pressed down on her, demanding answers she wasn’t ready to give.

Shock. Uncertainty. Aflicker of something she didn’t want toname.

Jazz blinked. “I—Ithought it went to charity?”

Poppy shook her head. “No. That’s what everyone assumed. But I spoke with the lawyer. If I don’t take it, you’re next in line. The will was structured that way. Grandfather never intended for it to leave the family.”

Jazz froze. “Why are you telling me this?”

Poppy’s eyes softened. “Because I want you to have options. If you ever need to walk away… you’ll have the means to do it.”

Jazz’s chest tightened. Walk away. The words echoed in her mind, unsettling her.

Was that what Poppy thought she needed? Did she think Jazz was trapped?

Or was this simply a sister’s love, asafeguard, nothing more?

Apart of her wanted to argue, to tell Poppy she didn’t need an exit plan. That she wasn’t looking forone.

But another part of her—one she wasn’t quite ready to face—stayed silent.

“Poppy—”

Poppy gave her hand a small, firm squeeze, her eyes steady and filled with something that looked like both certainty and concern. “I’m not saying you should leave him. I’m saying you should have a choice. And choices matter.”

The words settled deep, heavier than Jazz had expected. Did she need an escape plan? Shouldshe?

She swallowed hard, forcing a small smile. “I don’t know what to say.”

Poppy’s expression remained unwavering. “Just promise me you won’t tell Titus. Not yet.”

Jazz hesitated, searching her sister’s face. Then nodded. “Okay.”

She wasn’t sure why she agreed. But as the wind stirred through the garden, rustling the leaves around them, she had the strange sense that something had just shifted.

And she wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.

She turned, only to find Titus standing a few feet away.

Had he heard their conversation? Aflicker of panic tightened her chest, her pulse kicking up a notch.

If he had, he gave no sign, his expression unreadable.

But the way he watched her, steady and patient, made her stomach twist. Was he waiting for her to say something?

To confess? Or was she only imagining the heaviness of his gaze, letting her own guilt fill the silence between them? For some reason, panic filledher.

Poppy, sensing the shift in energy, quickly excused herself. “I should check on Soren,” she murmured, giving Jazz’s hand one last squeeze before slipping back inside.

“Enjoying the garden?” Titus’s voice washed over her, smooth and easy, as if they hadn’t just been caught in a conversation she wasn’t ready to explain.

Jazz spun in place, grateful for the neutral opening. “It’s beautiful. Peaceful.”

“It is.” He stepped closer, his hands in his pockets, his gaze steady on hers. “Poppy seemed eager to speak with you.”

Jazz hesitated, then shrugged lightly. “Sisters have a way of making sure you know where you stand.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “And where do you stand, Jazz?”

She studied him, unsure if he was asking about Poppy’s words or something deeper. “Right here, Isuppose.”

His lips curved slightly at that. “Good. Because that’s exactly where I want you.”

Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, his hand sliding up her arm, fingers grazing her jaw as he tilted her face up to his. Jazz barely had time to take a breath before his lips brushed against hers—soft at first, coaxing, testing.

Heat flamed low in her stomach, spreading through her like wildfire. The intensity of her reaction unsettled her, clashing with the careful logic she had tried to keep betweenthem.

She had told herself she would be cautious, that she wouldn’t get lost in him so easily. And yet, here she was, unraveling beneath his touch, her body betraying every carefully constructed wall she thought she had built.

Her body responded before her mind could catch up, her fingers gripping the front of his shirt, steadying herself against the sudden rush of sensation.

It should have been too much. It should have felt overwhelming after everything that had happened that morning, with Poppy’s words echoing in her mind. And yet, she melted intohim.

His mouth moved over hers with unshakable confidence, deepening the kiss, tasting her like he had all the time in the world.

There was no rush, no demand—just possession, slow and consuming.

He kissed her like he was savoring her, like he wanted to brand her with this moment, make her forget everythingelse.

Her head spun, her pulse hammering in her ears. She had kissed him before, had felt his touch, had given herself to him in ways she never thought she would. But this felt different. This wasn’t about lust. This was something deeper, something more dangerous. It felt like a claim.

And the worst part? She wanted to be claimed.

A soft sigh escaped her as his hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her there, keeping her anchored to him. She felt the tension in his grip, the restraint he barely held onto. He didn’t just kiss her—he told her something, something unspoken but undeniable.

When he finally pulled back, she was breathless, her fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt. His dark gaze held hers, unreadable, intense.

“That’s exactly where I want you,” he repeated, his voice lower now, rougher.

Jazz swallowed hard, her heart pounding against her ribs. She should say something, make a joke, lighten the moment. But she couldn’t. Because deep down, she knew the truth.

She wanted to be right there too. Despite everything—the uncertainty, the questions, the whirlwind of the last few days—there remained a pull between them she couldn’t ignore.

She should have been more guarded, more cautious, but standing here, breathless and wrapped in the heat of his presence, all she could feel was the undeniable truth that she wanted this.

Wanted him. And that realization terrified her almost as much as it thrilledher.