35. Chapter Forty-Five Jade
Chapter Forty-Five: Jade
F or a second, everything felt like it was fine.
Like I wasn’t trapped with a man who had imprisoned me, like I wasn’t pregnant by a sex-crazed mafia prince.
But as I woke up in his bed, the headache came back.
Sunlight nudged its way through the curtains, a gentle herald of the morning as it painted a soft glow across our entwined forms. I stirred, the weariness of sleepless hours clinging to me like a second skin—a reminder of both my body’s unrest and the new life quietly unfurling within. Hunger, sharp and demanding, gnawed at my insides, an insistent whisper that I wasn’t just feeding myself now. Beside me, Dante was the picture of serenity, his breathing a steady rhythm that hypnotized with its calm cadence.
I shifted, a mere inch, yet it was enough to send a wave of heat coursing through me. The memories of last night—his hands, his mouth, the way he moved—tumbled over one another, vivid and unbidden. I reached for the glass of water perched precariously on the bedside table, my throat parched but my mind still half-drowned in the remnants of pleasure that clung to my skin like the scent of his cologne.
The cool liquid did little to quench the thirst that now took root elsewhere, a thirst that had everything to do with the man who lay beside me. His chest rose and fell, each breath a silent promise of the power that lay dormant beneath his skin. The contrast between the Dante who ruled the night with iron and fire and this quiet, almost vulnerable figure was stark, and in that moment, with the crisp light of dawn spilling over us, I saw the man behind the myth.
Should I try to kill him? If I put a pillow over his head, maybe he wouldn’t wake up in time.
But the very idea of it set me on edge. I didn’t want him to die. Right then, part of me didn’t even know if I wanted him to set me free.
“Jade,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep, and something in me tightened. It wasn’t just his name for me, but the way he said it—like I was the secret he never knew he’d kept.
I looked at him, choosing not to answer, waiting for him to say something else.
Dante’s eyes remained closed, the dark lashes resting against the contours of his face, casting faint shadows over his olive skin. I watched him, this enigma of a man whose life was entangled with secrets and danger. The pull towards him was undeniable, a force that had drawn me into his orbit and kept me there, willingly captive to the whirlwind he embodied.
A surge of something tender, something terrifyingly close to love, fluttered in my chest. Could it be love? Or was it just the intoxicating blend of lust and adrenaline that his world offered? I wasn’t sure, but right then, it didn’t seem to matter.
Leaning forward, I brushed my lips against his in a kiss that was a soft echo of last night’s fervor. It was a whisper of thanks, a silent plea for more, for understanding—for him. Dante stirred beneath the gentle weight of my mouth, a low sound escaping him as he reached for me without opening his eyes, as if he knew exactly where I was, as if I was the compass point he’d been searching for all along.
“Jade,” he said again, and this time, his voice was clearer, edged with desire. His hand trailed up my spine, pulling me closer until there was no space for doubts or fears, only the warmth of his skin against mine.
He wrapped his arm around my waist as his eyes slowly fluttered open.
“Morning,” Dante murmured, his voice rough with sleep. His eyes, dark and unreadable, held mine in a gaze that felt like a challenge and a promise all at once.
“Morning,” I replied, my heart thrumming as I settled into the crook of his arm. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, almost surreal. His fingers traced idle patterns along the curve of my hip, sending ripples of contentment through me.
“Last night was...” I began, but words failed me. How could I describe any of it when I had no idea how to feel about it? And now, in the soft light of dawn, with the city below us beginning to stir, everything felt different—slower, deeper, more profound.
“It was.” He didn’t finish either, but the way he looked at me said everything. There was no need for words when his touch spoke volumes.
As we lay there, the silence wasn’t empty; it was filled with unspoken confessions and quiet revelations. I wanted to understand this man who was clearly becoming both my sanctuary and my storm. Curiosity bubbled up inside me, and I found the courage to ask the question that had been lingering in my mind since the moment our paths had crossed.
“Dante, tell me about your life—the real one, with all its shadows and obligations. Don’t hold anything back. If you’re going to keep me here, I have to know.” My voice was gentle, probing, laced with the fear of uncovering truths I might not be ready to face.
He paused, his hand coming to rest on my back. “It’s complicated, Jade. You know some of it—the family business, the weight of expectations. It’s a lot.”
“Yeah, I assumed it was a lot,” I said. “But that’s why I want to know everything.”
“Okay. It’s a business. It’s just that if you do something wrong, you don’t just lose money, right? It’s also about respect and oaths and…well, when I put it this way, it sounds childish.”
I waited for him to continue, though part of me wanted to say that childish games didn’t usually end in bloodshed.
“People take it so seriously,” he said. “I take it seriously too, but you cross someone and someone else dies. I feel like I have to keep a spreadsheet of the enemies we have.”
“Do you?”
“What, keep a spreadsheet?” he asked, then smiled. “No. But maybe I should.”
His laughter was a soft rumble that echoed through me, a familiar warmth spreading through my veins. But the light-heartedness of his words did nothing to dispel the gravity of what he was saying. There was an undertone of solemnity in his voice, a quiet acknowledgement of the twisted reality in which he existed.
“Does it ever get to you?” I asked softly, afraid to break the spell between us.
“Every damn day,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. A flicker of something vulnerable flashed in his eyes before he masked it with his usual composure. “But there are things—and people—worth protecting.”
“Like…”
“I mean, you. Our baby. Obviously. My mom. Marco,” he said, and when he said that last word, his voice almost broke. “I wanted to talk Marco out of being part of the business, but I think part of him always just wanted to do something that would make Dad proud. And you have to understand, if I wasn’t around for him, I worry he’d be…adrift.”
For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to feel special, cherished even, in the presence of a man whose life was a constant battleground.
“Thank you for telling me,” I said, my hand finding his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. In this room, away from the world he ruled with an iron fist, we were just Dante and Jade—two souls seeking solace in each other’s arms.
The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow on Dante’s face as he gazed down at me. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there moments before.
“Sure,” he said. “I’m happy to answer all your questions.”
“Tell me about your father,” I ventured, noticing he hadn’t mentioned him when he told me who he needed to protect. It felt like stepping into uncharted territory, but my curiosity was piqued by the enigma of the man who cast such a long shadow over Dante’s life.
He let out a dry chuckle, void of any real humor. “My father,” he started, his voice taking on a harder edge, “is a man who doesn’t need protection from anyone or anything.”
I propped myself up on one elbow, studying his face. Even now, stripped of all defenses, Dante held an aura of strength that was almost palpable.
“He thrives on the power, on being revered—or feared,” he continued, his gaze drifting past me, as if he were looking at something far away. “It’s all a game to him, the appearances we maintain. They’re what keep us...safe from his wrath.”
“Is that why you stayed?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The thought of Dante trapped in a life he didn’t choose sent a pang through my chest. “I mean, Cornell…you’re a smart man. You have resources. You could have gone anywhere.”
“That’s high praise coming from you. But I guess the answer is partly,” he admitted, his eyes meeting mine again. “There are parts of this life that I can’t escape, ties that I can’t break. Not if I want to keep the people I care about safe.”
I reached out, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertips, feeling the stubble that pricked my skin. Here was a man caught in a web of his own making, bound by blood and duty. And yet, there was a tenderness in him that belied the hardened exterior he showed to the world.
“Do you have any other questions for me?” he asked.
“A million,” I confessed, my fingers lingering on his skin. “But I think understanding will come with time. I hope it does.”
He lifted a hand to my cheek, his thumb gently brushing against my skin. “My beautiful, brave girl,” he said. “So smart, so good.”
I wanted to pull away and deny the truth in his words, but they held me captive. His affection was raw and honest, a beacon of light amidst the shadows that shrouded his world. I bit back tears, feeling a rush of empathy for this man who had no choice but to bear the burdens thrust upon him. I wanted to assure him that he was not alone. However, before I could gather my thoughts, he surprised me by pulling me even closer.
“I want you to know something, Jade,” he murmured against my ear, his breath warm and tantalizing. “No matter what happens, no matter how deep we sink into this mess together…I will always choose you.”
“I believe you,” I replied, meeting his eyes again. They were lit with an emotion that stole my breath away - pure, unequivocal love.
“I would give you anything, Jade.”
I nodded, trying for a smile, my thoughts all jumbled up.
Yeah. I did believe him. I believed he would do anything but let me leave.