11. Chapter Eleven Jade
Chapter Eleven: Jade
T his captivity wasn’t helping me with my headaches.
I paced, back and forth, the click of my shoes a steady drumbeat on the marble. Dante’s penthouse, all grandeur and space, felt more like a gilded cage with each step I took. Through the windows, the city sprawled below, lights flickering like distant stars I couldn’t touch. My fingertips grazed the glass, cold and unyielding; it might as well have been iron bars.
“Enough,” I muttered, my voice a low growl of frustration. The whole day, I’d been dodging Dante, keeping to corners of his palatial trap while he was out. Playing hide-and-seek with the devil in his own den wasn’t working anymore. It was time to face the music.
I stopped dead in the doorway of his office, my resolve hardening like the ice in my veins. “I’m going stir crazy,” I announced, the words slicing through the silence like a blade. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms—anything to anchor me against the dizzying need to escape these walls.
He didn’t even look up when he heard me.
“The doctor said I need it, Dante. I need to get out of here.” My voice was steady, bolder than I felt, but desperation has a way of cutting through fear.
Dante finally looked up from his desk, his eyes locking onto mine. Those eyes, always so full of secrets and shadows, narrowed slightly—not with anger, but an intensity that seemed to weigh my every word. His presence filled the room, dark and commanding, the kind of man whose whispers could shake the foundations of empires. And yet, as he watched me, something softened in his gaze. Concern? Understanding?
I wasn’t going to ask him.
“Jade,” he began, his voice deep and even, somehow both reassuring and unnerving all at once. There was no denying the danger that clung to him, an aura that whispered of power and violence. But beneath it, there flickered a spark of something else—that unnamable thing that made my heart stumble and my breath catch.
“I don’t want to beg you,” I said. “Don’t make me beg.”
“Alright,” he conceded, the word hanging between us, heavy and charged. The silence stretched on, dense with unspoken terms and conditions.
I nodded, my heart hitching at the promise of freedom, however fleeting. Dinner outside these walls—it was a lifeline thrown into the stagnant pool of my confinement.
“Good,” I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“Get ready then,” Dante said, breaking the spell as he stood, his movements fluid and sure. “I’ll take you somewhere nice.”
I walked to Dante’s bedroom, where I had been sleeping the last few nights, and went to his closet, where all the clothes he had gifted me were.
“Choose something...fitting,” Dante’s voice cut through the silence as I eyed the dresses he’d provided, each one more exquisite than the last. He had followed me to his bedroom, which made perfect sense. This was his room. It was his apartment. I couldn’t expect him to stay in his office while I got dressed.
But still…he could’ve waited for me to be ready.
I reached for a dress that seemed to strike the perfect balance—elegant without being ostentatious. I pulled it out and admired it for a few seconds, but Dante took a step closer to me and took it out of my hands.
He cocked his head as he looked at me. “That one is pretty,” he said.
I watched him, waiting for him to say something else.
“But wear something red.”
His command, though gentle, still carried the weight of authority. I hesitated, my fingers hovering over a particularly stunning red number. It was sleek and daring, made to ensnare attention wherever it went.
“Why?”
“Suits you,” he replied.
To challenge him would be futile, I knew. But it sparked a small fire in my chest, a rebellion against the control he was so used to wielding. I looked at him, letting my eyes linger just long enough before turning back to select the red dress. Dante Moretti wanted me in red? Then red it would be.
And…it turned out he was right. Of course he was right. It was a gorgeous dark red that complimented my dark hair and hinted at sophistication rather than outright glamour.
“Need help with that?” His voice was low, a mere breath away from my ear, making me jump.
“Sure,” I replied, trying to keep my tone level as his fingers brushed against my back, deftly unzipping my day dress. It fell away, leaving my skin exposed to the cool air of the room. His touch was unexpectedly gentle, sending a ripple of heat across my flesh. His fingertips traced the line of my spine, then the curve of my hips, stirring a longing that settled heavy in my belly.
“Easy,” he murmured, and I realized I’d been holding my breath. “You’re getting a break...for now.”
A groan escaped me before I could catch it, betraying the tension that knotted inside me.
“Stand up straight,” Dante instructed, as he slipped the chosen dress over my head. The fabric cascaded down my body, settling with a soft whisper against my skin.
Once I was dressed, he picked out a necklace from the array on the vanity. It was delicate, a slender chain with a single diamond pendant that caught the light with every subtle movement. Dante stepped behind me and draped it around my neck, his hands brushing against my collarbone.
“Look at yourself,” he said, guiding me to stand before the full-length mirror. His reflection loomed behind mine, a dark guardian angel clad in expensive threads.
I met his gaze in the mirror, finding an unfamiliar version of myself staring back. The woman in the reflection was someone new—someone who could belong in Dante Moretti’s world, if only for a night.
“You are stunning, Jade,” he continued, his voice a low hum that vibrated through me. For a fleeting second, I forgot the bars of my gilded cage, lost in the illusion of normalcy he wove around us.
And then, his lips pressed a kiss into the hollow of my neck, a brief contact that seared my skin and anchored me back to reality. Dante Moretti was a man of many contradictions, capable of both tenderness and terror. But tonight, it seemed, he chose the role of gentleman.
And fuck, I already wanted him to fuck me.
I had to remind myself not to get swept away by Dante’s practiced charm or the way the suit hugged his frame, hinting at the power coiled beneath. It was all too easy to see him as just a man when he stood there, adjusting his cuffs, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips—a man who could laugh, who could, perhaps, dream of being more than what his bloodline dictated.
If only he hadn’t decided to kidnap me and keep me prisoner.
“Ready?” Dante’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
“Let’s do this,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.
We left the penthouse in a dance we hadn’t rehearsed but somehow performed flawlessly. The elevator descended, and with each passing floor, the reality of the evening ahead settled over me like a second skin—one I wasn’t sure fit quite right.
The car was sleek, its engine purring to life as we slipped inside. Dante’s hand found mine, an anchor amid the chaos of the city that rushed by us. The skyline melted into streaks of light as we moved through the streets, a living painting of vibrant hues against the darkening sky.
“Roll down the window if you need air,” Dante said, noting how I leaned towards the slight opening.
“Thanks.” I welcomed the cool breeze that brushed my face, mingling with the scent of leather from the car’s interior. It was refreshing, almost cleansing, like it could strip away the layers of tension that clung to me.
“Whatever happens tonight, just stay close,” Dante instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“Like I have a choice,” I muttered, trying for levity but finding only the raw edge of truth. “Wait. What’s going to happen tonight?”
He laughed. “I have no idea. I’m just doing my due diligence by warning you.”
Streetlights painted streaks across his face, highlighting the angles of his jaw and the intensity of his focus. With every turn, every shift of gears, I sensed the silent pledges we exchanged: to protect, to trust, to navigate this night together.
“Jade,” Dante said, startling me out of my reverie, “whatever happens, just remember—“
“I know. You just said. Stick with you.” The words tumbled out, laced with a mix of frustration and resignation.
“Good girl,” he murmured, and something in his tone sent a shiver through me—though not from fear.
We were probably close to wherever we were going. “Are you really going to let me have a break tonight?” I asked.
His smirk widened into a grin. “Do you want me to let you have a break tonight?”
“I mean, there’s no good answer to that, is there?”
He laughed. “Yes, there is. You can always tell me what you want. As long as your body isn’t contradicting your words, I’ll fucking do anything.”
“But what if I don’t know what I want?” I asked, my gaze locked onto the cityscape blurring past us.
“Oh, you know what you want,” he replied. “You just aren’t brave enough to admit it to yourself. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met and somehow somehow the most foolish one as well. Trapped in your own head, denying yourself the very thing you crave the most.” His voice had softened, though the chuckle that followed was decidedly dark. “But don’t worry, Jade. I can wait.”
“So far you have not waited.”
“I don’t mean to fuck you or make you come,” he said. “I want to do that every night, and you want me to, too. I mean for you to admit that you want this too. That this thrills you more than it scares you. I could have done a lot more to keep you chained up in my penthouse, Jade. But you…you love this.”
“You’re wrong,” I countered reflexively, but my voice lacked conviction. The terrifying part was that he might be right. Was it possible that there was a part of me that craved the danger, the unpredictability, the raw connection that pulsed between us? “I don’t—“
“You do,” Dante interrupted gently, his eyes never leaving mine in the reflection of the car’s window. The city lights raced past us, illuminance that momentarily lit up his face in a breathtaking display of masculinity. “None of this scares you as much as admitting that you enjoy it. It’s kind of hot, honestly. But it’s going to be even hotter when you realize it.”
“When I realize what?”
“When you realize just how much you want to submit,” he said.
“Submit to…”
“Me,” he said simply. “Only to me.”