Page 51 of Ivory Obsession

“In terms of his expectations?” I asked, my tone gentle.

“Yeah, exactly,” Dante replied, leaning back in his chair. His eyes left mine, focusing instead on the table between us. “And it’s been a... challenge catching up. I tried to worry about what my mother wanted for me instead.”

“What did she want?”

“Well, what she really wanted was for me to marry a nice Italian girl,” he replied. “She had to settle for college.”

A soft chuckle escapes my lips at his confession. “I take it you didn’t give her the nice Italian girl?”

Dante’s eyes snap back to mine, a mischievous glint sparkling within their depths. “Not exactly,” he replies with a smug grin, “But I did give her a college degree.”

“Where did you go?”

“Where do you think I went?”

“That’s not fair. Just tell me.”

“Cornell,” he replied.

“Cornell? Impressive,” I said, trying to hide my surprise. In spite of his rough exterior and intimidating aura, Dante was a man of intellect - Cornell’s business school was one of the best in the country. “That’s prestigious.”

“Yeah. My mom was very happy. My dad was not as happy. He thought I’d be better off at home, learning the ropes of the family business.” He paused, his gaze drifting off into the distance, clearly lost in some distant memory. “I wanted to make my own path, away from what he had planned for me.”

“Yet here you are,” I observed, my tone softer now.

“Turns out having a business administration degree from an Ivy League school is super useful when it comes to running a legacy family business,” he said, bitterness creeping into his mocking tone. “Who would have guessed?”

His words hung heavy in the air, a bitter humor cloaked in self-deprecation. I couldn’t help but watch him; the bravado fading as a hint of vulnerability seeped through. It was an odd sight, Dante Moretti showing a side of himself that seemed so far removed from his confident exterior.

“Legacy family business?” I echoed, partly to break the silence and partly because curiosity pricked me. “So you’re running it now?”

Dante looked at me, his expression unreadable. “It’s...complicated,” he finally muttered, his gaze dropping to the wine glass cradled in his hand. “I’m trying to. My dad still doesn’t trust me. Says my ideas are too out there.”

“And...are they too out there?” I asked. The look on Dante’s face had me quickly adding, “I mean, not that your father is the only one who can judge that, but... well, you get my point.”

He grinned, some of his earlier confidence returning. “Well, let’s just say I’ve got a few ideas that would rock the boat. But change isn’t always a bad thing.”

The waiter finally brought our food and Dante’s eyes lit up at the sight of his favorite dish. “Here we go, linguini with clams. The best in the city,” he announced proudly.

I couldn’t help but grin at his enthusiasm. “That does look amazing,” I said, my gaze affectionately lingering on him before shifting to my own dish, a plate of creamy fettuccine alfredo.

“You said you had something to tell me,” I said after I took a bite of my delicious meal.

“Yeah,” he replied, looking into my eyes. “But it can wait.”

“Wait for what?”

He smirked, winking at me. “Wait for me to be done with my dessert.”

Chapter Twenty-One: Dante

Istraightened my tie, a black silk noose that marked my allegiance to a world of shadows and whispered oaths. The venue, usually buzzing with the kind of energy that clung to your skin like a second layer, fell silent as I stood at its heart. My voice cut through the dimness. “Everyone out.”

The staff was gone after only a few seconds. Now it was just the two of us, alone.

“Come with me, Jade. Let me show you the view.”

I gave her my hand and pulled her toward the window.

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