33. Chapter Forty-Three Jade
Chapter Forty-Three: Jade
D inner was finished…and I hadn’t taken my out.
The city was a dark canvas, the stars hidden by the glow of a thousand lives churning within its depths. We were just two silhouettes against the vast tapestry of New York’s nightlife as Dante’s car, a sleek predator of steel and horsepower, slid into the driveway with the grace of a whisper. The engine cut off, leaving us cocooned in the kind of silence that begged for words I couldn’t find.
“Jade,” Dante said, his voice a soft rumble next to me, “talk to me.”
I glanced at him, caught in the half-light that turned his features both soft and sharp at once. His suit, tailored to perfection, whispered power; my blue dress felt like a shield against the night. “Just thinking,” I murmured, my fingers trailing down the fabric, pretending to chase away wrinkles that weren’t there.
“About?” His question hung between us, inviting yet cautious. Dante Moretti was a man who knew the weight of words left unspoken.
“Everything.” My reply was a drop in the stillness, ripples reaching out to touch the edges of truths we danced around every day.
Everything meant the shadow of his family, the unyielding grip it had on us. It meant the life I tried to build, one breakthrough at a time, in a lab that might as well be another world. It meant the fear of what lay ahead tangled up with the hope that maybe, just maybe, we could carve out something real amidst the chaos.
It meant the fact that I’d had an out and I hadn’t fucking taken it. That I could’ve walked away…with police protection…and instead I was here with him, talking as if we were a regular couple.
“Jade,” he said again, his hand reaching out to capture mine. His fingers were warm, their strength reassuring even as they called out to the pulse that raced beneath my skin. In his touch, I found an anchor. He might be my captor–but he was only trying to protect me.
I was pretty sure he wasn’t lying about that.
“Let’s go inside,” he suggested, a command wrapped in velvet concern. And as we stepped from the cocoon of his car into the embrace of the night, I followed, allowing myself this moment of respite in his presence before reality came crashing back in waves.
“Is it too late to call your parents?” A few minutes later, Dante’s voice sliced through the silence of the penthouse living room, as if to cut away the web of tension that had settled between us.
I glanced at my new phone, the screen’s blue light casting an otherworldly glow on my skin. “No, they’re night owls. It should be okay. Can I do this in the bedroom?”
“No,” he said. “I won’t talk, but go ahead. Stay here. I want to hear.”
My fingers hesitated over the screen before finally pressing the call button, the sound filling the room with its persistent beep. As it rang, I felt Dante move closer, a silent sentinel whose very presence was both a danger and a comfort.
“Jade?” My mother’s voice came through, tinged with surprise and sleep.
“Hey, Mom,” I replied, mustering a cheerfulness I didn’t quite feel. “Sorry for calling so late.”
“No, no, it’s okay, dear. Is everything all right?” she asked. “I haven’t heard from you in so long…I was so worried about you.”
“Sorry, Mom. Everything’s fine,” I lied smoothly, instinctively glancing at Dante. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tightness around his eyes that spoke volumes. “You know how it is. I got really lost in my research and forgot to look up.”
My mom considered that for a second. “But are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said, almost instinctively. “Where’s Dad?”
“Oh, he’s right…oh, he was here a second ago. One second, sweetie—Richard!”
And just like that, the conversation shifted. I found myself in the familiar territory of talking about the latest scientific breakthroughs and debating views with my father. For those precious minutes, I felt like Jade Bentley, the neuroscientist, not Jade Bentley, the unwitting mafia princess.
“Actually, I have a reason for calling,” I interjected, seizing a lull in the conversation. “I was wondering...could you both come to New York?”
“Oh,” my mom said. “Yes! Of course. For Christmas, maybe?”
“No, I mean sooner than that,” I said. “Like in a week or two.”
There was a pause on the other end—a hesitation that seemed to stretch into eternity. Then my father’s voice, warm yet cautious, broke the silence. “Sweetheart, isn’t it a bit sudden?”
“Next week, actually,” I clarified, feeling Dante’s gaze upon me, steady and assessing.
“Next week?” My mother’s voice was laced with skepticism now. “It’s quick.”
I knew what they were thinking. It wasn’t like me to be impulsive, to disrupt routines or make spontaneous plans. But desperation had a way of rewriting the scripts we lived by.
“Please,” I said, softer this time. “It’s important to me.”
Silence.
Fuck, I wasn’t going to get out of this without saying something.
“I have news. They’re good news, but I want to tell you in person. And I don’t want to disrupt Christmas plans, I know Tom and Em are planning to go home. No…this would have to be sooner than that.”
“Good news?” My father’s tone was rich with amusement, an undercurrent of surprise threading through it. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?”
“Better than okay,” I assured them, trying to lace my words with a joy I hoped would be infectious. “I—I wanted to tell you both that I’ve made some significant progress at the lab.”
That was true. Just not at all what I was calling them about.
“Progress, she says,” my mom chuckled, her voice a melody I’d know anywhere. “That’s my girl, always breaking new ground.”
“Can’t wait to see you and hear all about it,” Dad chimed in, his voice bubbling with pride.
When the call ended, Dante and I were left in the quiet aftermath, the warmth of his hand a stark contrast to the chill creeping into my bones.
“Jade?” Dante’s voice was low, probing.
“Sorry, just... thinking.” I forced a smile, fighting the unease that gnawed at my insides. What if my parents noticed something off? What if the veil slipped and they glimpsed the danger lurking beneath the veneer of my life with Dante?
“Hey.” He squeezed my hand, pulling me back from the edge of my spiraling thoughts. “I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic. You okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s just been a lot lately.” The words tumbled out, half-truths wrapped in the guise of strength. But there was comfort in the simplicity of the lie, a momentary balm for the wounds that ran deep. I couldn’t exactly tell him about my encounter with the police, could I? No, he could never know. He would probably be furious, and that was the last thing I wanted.
He nodded, the shadow of a frown creasing his brow as he registered the tension coiled in my frame. Dante could probably read the lie–not really a lie, I told myself, just an omission–but he wasn’t pushing me.
“Parents like me,” he said. “As a general rule, parents think I’m nice.”
The statement was so unexpected that a smile tugged at the corner of my lips, making its way up to my eyes, brightening the dim room. Dante’s lips spread into a wide grin as he watched my amusement unfold, his eyes glinting with affection.
“I’m sure they will,” I said, the words as much for my own reassurance as his. But would they still think he was nice once they found out who he really was? That thought sent a shiver down my spine, but I pushed it aside, focusing on the warmth of Dante’s hand in mine. “I mean, they’ll probably love you, considering the baby and everything. But they might ask about when we’re getting married.”
“Great. Our parents will get along then.”
“Maybe too well,” I quipped, the shared banter helping to ease the knots of tension coiled within me. Dante chuckled at my comment, his laughter a soothing balm against the looming uncertainty.
I allowed myself to lean into his arms, his strength a reassurance in the face of my fears. His heart beat steadily against mine, each throb a testament to the connection we shared—and the danger it held.
When he stroked the outline of my face, tilting my chin up to look at him and kissed me, I kissed him back.