Ivory Crown (The Dark Mafia Prince of New York #2)

1. Chapter One Jade

Chapter One: Jade

I was Dante’s prisoner. And I had no idea how I was going to get out.

Sunlight barged in like an unwelcome informant, slicing through the gaps in the curtains and dragging me back to the world of the waking. I blinked against its glare, feeling the silk sheets twisted around my legs—a luxury that mocked rather than comforted. I was in Dante Moretti’s penthouse, a place as lavish as it was imprisoning.

I’d been here before…under much different circumstances. I had been here because I wanted to.

“Damn,” I muttered, pressing my palms into my eyes, trying to rub away the grogginess. Memories of last night came at me hard and fast—Dante’s iron grip on my arm, the cold night air rushing past as he hauled me from my own doorstep, his voice a low growl telling me it was for my own good.

My head throbbed with a persistent ache, the aftermath of whatever cocktail of stress and fear had knocked me out cold. Or had he drugged me? No, Dante played many games, but he preferred his pawns conscious and aware.

At least…I hoped so.

Fuck.

The knot in my stomach tightened. I really didn’t know anything about this man, did I?

I looked around for my phone, but I knew it was hopeless. There was no chance I was going to have it here, not with the way Dante had dragged me away from my apartment.

“Prisoner” wasn’t a word I ever thought would apply to me. A biotechnologist, yes. An unwilling guest in a mafia lord’s high-rise fortress? Not so much. But here I was, staring up at a ceiling that felt too close, walls that seemed to lean in with silent threats.

Escape , the thought pulsed in my brain, urgent and wild. But even as it took root, I knew better. Dante Moretti didn’t take “no” for an answer–clearly. I hadn’t even wanted to tell him I was pregnant…but I should have heeded Ellie’s warnings. I should have ran earlier.

“Damn you, Dante,” I said to the empty room, knowing full well that the man who’d put me here believed he was saving my life. But in saving me, he’d stolen something else—my freedom, my control, my choice.

And I couldn’t decide which was worse—the throbbing in my head or the tightening in my chest that came with knowing I was trapped in a golden cage, courtesy of the one man who was both my protector and my captor.

Or…the way my body reacted. Tingled. Wanted him.

I didn’t have much time to think about it.

The door creaked open, and the subtle clink of fine china against silver announced his arrival before I even saw him. There he stood, Dante Moretti, bearing a tray that seemed straight out of a five-star hotel’s kitchen. The smell of fresh pastries, berries, and rich coffee wafted over to me, stirring a hunger I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Good morning,” he said.

I picked up my head to look at him.

He sighed. “I understand if you’re angry, but I brought you some food and I thought you might enjoy…”

I shook my head, looking away from him and crossing my arms over my chest. Like a child, I thought. A useless, powerless child.

“Please eat, Jade,” he said, his voice a smooth baritone that contrasted sharply with the hardness I knew lay beneath. He approached, setting the tray down on the bedside table—a tableau of breakfast perfection that felt like another layer of my imprisonment.

I eyed the food, then met his gaze, seeing the concern there. For me? Or for the life we’d inadvertently created? His eyes held a plea, one that spoke of more than just nourishment for my body. It was an olive branch extended in a war I never signed up for.

“Fine,” I relented with a sigh, not quite ready to give him the satisfaction of seeing me submit completely. But as I reached for a berry, letting its tartness burst against my tongue, I couldn’t help but wonder if every bite was another tie binding me to this man—this life—that I never asked for.

Dante watched me, a silent guardian whose presence filled the room. And as much as I wanted to resist, to fight against the invisible chains that tethered me to this place, part of me knew that defiance came with its own set of dangers.

Clearly this man was unhinged. I just didn’t want to find out exactly how unhinged he was.

For my sake, and for my baby’s sake.

So I ate, each mouthful an unspoken truce in this strange standoff between us. And with each bite, I could feel the balance of power shifting, teetering on a knife’s edge where anything could happen.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

I nodded, looking away from him.

“Jade, you need to understand,” Dante started, the weight of his gaze pressing down on me. “If it wasn’t for Caruso, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Who the fuck is Caruso?” The words tumbled out of my mouth, a mix of confusion and anger. My heart was picking up its pace, panic lacing through the defiance.

Dante let out a sigh, the sound heavy as if burdened with more than just air. He moved closer, sitting down on the bed next to me, the mattress dipping under his weight. His white shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, hinting at the power beneath.

“The man who is trying to kill you,” he said, his voice low and steady, sending chills down my arms despite the warmth of the room.

The tray of food suddenly felt like an insult—a mockery of normalcy in a situation that was anything but. With a swift movement, I pushed it aside, the clinking of the fine china loud in the silence that followed.

“Why would anyone try to kill me?”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It’s complicated. I never meant to get you into this mess.”

Fuck him. And fuck this.

My earlier fear was turning into anger.

“I demand to leave this place,” I declared, feeling the strength of my own resolve. It was foolish, perhaps, to challenge him, but fear had a way of sharpening one’s courage. “Right now, it seems like the only man who wants to kill me is you.”

I held his stare, refusing to back down. But Dante didn’t flinch, didn’t show any sign that my words had found their mark. Instead, there was a coolness in his expression, a detachment that made me question what I really knew about the man before me.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he asked, his tone almost gentle. “You’re not just some pawn in their game, Jade. You’re my girlfriend. You’re pregnant with my child. You’re an incredibly good target. You’re the queen, Jade, and I’m the only one who can keep you safe.”

I thought his words were meant to reassure, but they did the opposite. They painted a picture of a board set for a game of life and death—a game where the rules were written in blood and betrayal.

“Safe?” I scoffed, unable to hide the bitterness in my voice. “Being caged by you isn’t safety, Dante. It’s just a prettier prison.”

He stood then, towering over me, a storm dressed in black boxers and a white shirt. He boxed me in with his arms as he looked down at me.

“Jade, listen to me,” Dante’s voice rumbled, a low sound that vibrated through the silence of the room. “I know you’re scared, and I know this isn’t the freedom you want. But this world—it’s ruthless, unforgiving. Arturo Caruso is out for blood, and he won’t stop until he’s destroyed everything I care about. That includes our child.”

My breath hitched at the mention of the baby, a reality that was still settling in my bones. It was one thing to stand up for myself, but the life growing inside of me complicated matters in ways I hadn’t fully considered.

“Is this how you protect what’s yours? By kidnapping them?” My voice was steady, but I could feel the tremor of my hands betraying me.

“Sometimes the hardest choices are the ones made to keep the people we care about alive.” There was a hardness to Dante’s words, a resolve that hinted at battles fought and scars earned.

“Are you really that different from Caruso, then?” I dared to challenge him. “You both claim to act in the name of protection…but I assume I can’t just leave whenever I want.”

Dante’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, I saw the flicker of something behind his eyes—pain, maybe, or regret. “I’m trying to be different, Jade. For you, for our child... I have to be.”

“If you want to be different, you know what to do,” I said.

He stared at me.

“Let me out.”

The demand left my lips like a bullet, sharp and loaded with a desperate kind of courage. Dante’s dark eyes locked on mine, as if he could somehow silence the worry in my chest with just a look.

“Jade,” he began, his voice threading through the charged air between us, “the world outside doesn’t know mercy, especially not to those who bear the Moretti name—even by association.”

His words were a noose, tightening with every syllable. The plush penthouse, a gilded cage, seemed to shrink, the walls inching closer as our standoff stretched into eternity.

“Please, Dante,” I pleaded, feeling the weight of the empire he shoulders pressing into my own skin. “Don’t do this to me—to us.” My voice cracked like thin ice on a winter lake.

He stood there, a statue clad in black boxers and a white shirt that did nothing to mask the power of the man beneath. And though the morning sun streaked through the windows, casting golden bars across the floor, it couldn’t touch the chill wrapping around my heart.

“Jade,” he said again, softer this time, as if just saying my name would change my mind. But it was the unspoken sentiment that laced through them, the tension that spoke louder than any argument, that made my resolve waver. He was Dante Moretti, and he was danger personified—but in that instant, he was also unmistakably human.

He was still boxing me in, his face so close I could see the ridges of his lips, the edges of his stubble.

His finger traced the outline of my face, a touch that felt like both a caress and a chain. “You’ll get everything you need,” he murmured, his eyes holding mine captive. “But you can’t leave here. It’s not safe. I’ll keep you happy.”

The trail of his fingers slipped down my neck, igniting a trail of heat that betrayed my body’s betrayal. His intention was clear as his touch lingered suggestively toward my nipple. “I promise I’ll keep you satisfied. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

His hand slid further, down my stomach, toward my legs. He slid his fingers down over the fabric of my panties, taking a deep breath as he did. “Fuck, you’re already so wet,” he said.

My breath hitched as his finger traced the wetness that had betrayed me. His touch was a promise, searing through the thin fabric of my panties and into the very core of my desire.

“Dante,” I gasped, involuntarily arching into his hand.

“See?” He murmured, his breath hot on my neck. “You want this too.”

I opened my mouth to protest, to remind him of our disagreement, or perhaps just to ask him not to do this right now - but dissolved instead into a moan as his fingers dipped deeper.

“You’ll be happy here,” he said, removing his fingers from my pussy, licking them clean as he looked into my eyes. “And you’ll be mine.”

I opened my mouth to argue.

He traced his thumb over my lips. “You’re already mine.”

And before I could think of what to say, he was walking away from me, closing the door behind himself…and locking it from the outside.