3. Chapter Three Jade
Chapter Three: Jade
I woke up with the sour taste of captivity in my mouth. Another day inside this gilded prison, but Dante had other plans. “You can work,” he said simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world for a mafia don to offer.
“Work? How?” I questioned, half-rising from the tangled sheets, skeptical and wary.
Without a word, Dante’s grip was firm on my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine as he led me down the hall. I stumbled slightly, unprepared for the sudden movement, my heart hammering from more than just the quick pace. He pulled me into the guest bedroom – no longer just a room but a makeshift workstation, complete with everything my lab rat heart desired.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, my annoyance at being held against my will conflicting with the professional appreciation for the setup before me. “You did this fast. One night?”
“Well, I didn’t want you to get bored.”
The soft hum of computers and the familiar scent of sterile equipment tugged at something deep within me. My arms wrapped around Dante before my brain caught up with the action, gratitude momentarily overriding common sense.
“This has everything you need,” Dante murmured, and there was a warmth in his voice that threatened to melt away the icy fear clenching my insides.
“Everything?” I echoed back, pulling away to look up at him, searching his face for the catch. There’s always a catch.
“Almost,” he conceded with a tilt of his head. “Just one thing I need from you.”
My stomach clenched. No good ever came from those words in his world. “What’s that?”
“Reach out to your friend, Ellie Harper, and your family. Let them know you’re tied up with a secret project. Make it believable,” he instructed, with that edge of authority that never failed to send a shiver down my spine.
“I don’t have my phone.”
He nodded, grabbing my phone out of his pocket. “You do now.”
Fuck. I could call 911, but…how could I explain this? It would make things more difficult for me, I was sure.
“Ellie’s not easily fooled,” I replied, hesitating as I reached for my phone. The weight of it felt heavier than usual, burdened with the lies I was about to spin.
“Try,” he insisted, and his gaze held mine, unwavering, unyielding. “Try your best. And I will check it when you’re done, so don’t think about doing anything funny.”
So, I typed out the message, each word a stone in my stomach. ‘Dragged into an unexpected project by Dr. Prakesh. Going radio silent for a bit. Don’t worry.’ My thumb hovered over the send button before pressing down with resignation. The lie settled into the air between us like smoke, thick and choking.
“Good,” Dante said, and the simple approval in his voice stirred a dangerous warmth in my chest. Then his brow furrowed. “Who’s Dr. Prakesh?”
“She’s Dr. White’s boss,” I said. “She doesn’t really come into the lab, but Ellie could just ask Dr. White why I’m not around. Dr. Prakesh is in charge of all our publications and things like that. You said to make it believable.”
I did hope Ellie would ask Dr. White about this order from Dr. Prakesh. She almost never gave us orders. But hopefully, Dante wouldn’t know.
He thought about it for a second. “Good,” Dante said, and the simple approval in his voice stirred a dangerous warmth in my chest.
“Is that all?” I asked, aware of how close we stood, of the tension that was anything but academic.
“For now,” he replied, a promise or a threat, I couldn’t tell which. “Give me your phone.”
I tried to swallow down the knot in my throat, handing the phone to him.
As he pocketed my phone, Dante’s expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he turned away. “Wait here,” he said curtly and disappeared.
Minutes passed like hours, my thoughts racing with the possibilities of what this man could want from me. When he returned, his arms were laden with a box that was large enough to pique my curiosity but he carried as though it weighed nothing.
“Here,” he said, setting the box down with surprising gentleness. “I stopped by your apartment.”
My breath hitched, a silent alarm bell ringing in my head. “You what?”
“Relax. I didn’t snoop,” he assured, but the smirk playing on his lips suggested he found the notion amusing. “Just grabbed what was in the laundry basket. But honestly, Jade,” he paused, opening the lid to reveal the contents, “you didn’t have that many good clothes.”
“Rude,” I said. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“Nothing,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “They just don’t do you justice.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile creeping onto my lips. Despite the situation, despite who he was and what was happening, Dante Moretti had an uncanny ability to catch me off-guard.
The box overflowed with fabrics, rich colors, and sleek designs—a treasure trove of garments that no doubt cost more than I made in a month.
“Is this supposed to impress me?” I asked, even as my fingers itched to touch the silk blouse that lay on top.
“Maybe,” he replied, watching me closely. “But they’re yours regardless.”
“Mine?” The word felt foreign on my tongue.
“They’ll remain in our shared closet,” Dante explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to provide me with an entirely new wardrobe. “Use them when and how you like.”
The offer was overwhelming, too generous, and yet another thread in the web I felt trapped in. “Why are you doing this?” I managed, finally looking up at him.
“Because I can,” he said simply, and there was a truth in those words that both alarmed and intrigued me. “Because you need clothes.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, unsure whether gratitude or suspicion should be the dominant emotion.
“Thank me by doing what you do best,” Dante replied, his voice low and encouraging. “Keep working on your research.”
I glanced around the lab, my gaze sweeping over the array of equipment that Dante had provided. It was more than I’d ever dreamed of having at my disposal. This place looked fucking expensive. The centrifuges hummed quietly, the digital displays of pipettes illuminated in standby mode, and every surface gleamed under the stark fluorescent lights. Reagents in their small vials stood at attention like soldiers on parade, and data charts fanned out across my workstation, each one a puzzle waiting to be solved.
It was all meticulously arranged, a scientist’s haven, yet as I looked back to the doorway where Dante stood—a dark silhouette framed by the hall light—I couldn’t shake the feeling of confinement.
I turned away from him, focusing on the genetic sequences displayed on my computer screen. Here, in the digital representation of DNA, I found an escape. Each nucleotide was a building block in an ordered world I could understand, a world governed by the predictability of base pairs and the rules of replication.
“Good,” Dante said, his presence at the doorway lingering like a shadow I could feel rather than see. “I’ll leave you to it then.”
The click of the door signaled his departure, but it did nothing to lighten the sense of surveillance that clung to the room. Alone now, with only the hum of machines as company, I dove into my work. I typed on the keyboard clumsily as I tried to get used to it, annotating segments, comparing structures—every action a deliberate effort to assert control over my little kingdom of research.
“Predictable outcomes,” I read aloud to myself, comforted by the reliability of science.
Hours slipped by unnoticed as I pieced together the molecular puzzle before me, seeking answers that felt much bigger than what was happening to me.
At some point, he came in, put a paper bag with a sandwich and a pastry next to me, and brought me a giant gallon of water.
He didn’t give me a chance to say anything as he left.
But it didn’t matter, I was busy, I was losing myself in the work until night started to fall. The room had an ensuite and I didn’t need to go anywhere or do anything but work—which allowed me to forget some of the situation I had found myself in.
At some point, the door creaked open, splintering the silence without warning. Dante stood there, his frame filling the doorway, a box of takeout in hand. “You need to eat,” he said simply, his voice low and oddly considerate for a man of his stature.
“I’ll be finished soon,” I replied without looking up, my gaze fixed on the screen. The data wouldn’t run itself, and every second was precious. But I could feel him there, just beyond the reach of my peripheral vision, an unrelenting force that refused to be ignored.
He didn’t move, nor did he speak again, but his presence enveloped me like a heavy cloak. It was a curious thing, how this man, who dealt in threats and power struggles, seemed to stand guard over me. I was an asset, I knew—a commodity in his family’s empire.
And…the baby. Of course, the baby. I’d turned it over in my head. I had been so blind. I had been so enamored with the idea that a man like Dante could want me and not my research.
When my research was the only special thing about me.
Yet, he watched me with a protective intensity that suggested possession more personal than professional.
My fingers paused above the keyboard, tension coiling tightly within me. This was no longer just my sanctuary; it had become a silent battlefield. My will to maintain independence clashed against Dante’s unspoken claim over me. Each keystroke was a defiance, a reminder that I wasn’t just another one of his conquests.
Despite everything, a treacherous part of me couldn’t help but find comfort in his watchful gaze.
“Jade,” he finally said, breaking the standoff, “work can wait. You can’t. The baby can’t.”
I stood reluctantly, feeling the weight of his expectation press down upon me. There was no escaping the gravity of Dante Moretti—not here, not anywhere.
Reluctantly, I turned to face him, acknowledging the truth in his statement. “Just give me a minute,” I conceded, my resolve softening despite my best efforts.
“Take all the time you need,” Dante replied, his tone leaving no room for argument, yet laced with an odd gentleness. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And neither, it seemed, was I.
“Sit down,” he said. “Let’s eat.”
“Where?”
“Well, we could do it in the dining room but I have a feeling you’d try to make a run for it, and I don’t want to hurt you. So how does the floor sound?”
I glanced at the cold, sterile tiles beneath our feet, then back up at him.
“The floor?” I echoed incredulously. This whole scenario felt surreal. One moment I was immersed in my research, the next I was being asked to share a meal on the floor with a mafia boss.
Dante simply shrugged, unbothered by my surprise. With a slight smirk playing on his lips, he lowered himself onto the ground and began unpacking the takeout box.
“I’ve had meals in far less comfortable places,” he said casually, pulling out containers packed with steaming food. The tantalizing aroma wafted up to me, reminding me of how long I’d been working without a break.
I swallowed hard, my stomach betraying me with a growl. Dante’s smirk broadened into a full-fledged smile at the sound. “Come on, Dr. Bentley,” he coaxed, holding out a pair of chopsticks towards me. “It won’t kill you to take a break.”
“Chinese food?” I asked.
“Your favorite,” he said. “It’s sweet and sour chicken with fried rice. And egg rolls, too.”
I was torn between hesitation and hunger, my body swaying towards the latter. He was right; I’d been working for hours and had forgotten to take care of myself. Nodding slowly, I sat down across from him, taking the offered chopsticks.
I watched as he picked up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks and brought it to his mouth. His actions were deliberate, almost graceful, and for a moment I felt a pang of envy at his ease in our unusual dining situation.
“Made any breakthroughs today?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ve mostly been fighting with the keyword,” I said. “It’s annoying to get used to a new one.”
He chuckled slightly, a rich sound that seemed out of place. “Well, from what I’ve observed, you’re a fast learner. You’ll get the hang of it soon.”
“So what happens now?” I asked. “Am I just stuck here until…”
I looked down at my stomach. Was I stuck here until the baby was born? Until he decided that I was safe?
He looked away from me. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I think we’ll have to play it by ear.”
“That’s not fair, Dante,” I said, suddenly feeling like I was on the verge of crying. “I need to be able to go out and…get medical check-ups. I’m pregnant. I can’t just stay here.”
He furrowed his brow. “Don’t worry, Jade. A doctor will come to you. I’ll look after both of you. I promise.”
“The best way to take care of me is to let me leave,” I said, gesturing with my chopsticks. “You’re a reasonable man. You know that.”
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “The best way to take care of you is to keep you safe. And I’m sorry if you don’t like it, Jade, but this is how we’re doing it.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but his stare silenced me.
“I’ll decide when to let you leave,” he said. “Got it?”
My stomach dropped as he went back to his chicken. “Yeah,” I said. “Got it.”