Page 86 of Ivory Crown

“Don’t act like you’re hurt,” I said. “You used me. I wasn’t supposed to be anything but that either. You made it clear we were going to keep things casual from the get-go. I asked when I was going to meet your family and you freaked the fuck out and said that we’d talked about keeping things casual. We hadn’t, by the way.”

“Because I was trying to protect you!” he said, his voice rising, the storm in his eyes matching the intensity of his declarations. “I didn’t want you to get involved with my family, with their dirty secrets and bloody pasts. I didn’t want you caught in the crossfire.”

“And yet, here I am,” I said, motioning around us, to the penthouse suite that oozed luxury and violence in equal measures. “Giving you a Moretti heir. If he’s a boy, do you think he’ll be shot at like your brother? Do you think he’ll survive?”

“Don’t fucking do that,” he hissed, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice. “Don’t you dare bring that up.”

“Why the hell not?” I shot back, my anger flaring at his audacity. “This is our reality now, Dante! You and me, and this baby…” I placed a protective hand over my stomach.

His gaze fell to where my hand rested, his jaw tightening noticeably. For a moment, I thought he would say something—snap back with some retort or brush off my concerns—but instead he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration.

“You’re right,” he murmured after what felt like an eternity of silence. “This is our reality now. And I...I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you both safe.” His gaze lifted and met mine, the honesty in his eyes as clear as day.

“Even if that means leaving your family?”

The question hung between us like smoke, dense and suffocating. Dante gazed at me for an extended beat of silence before he finally spoke.

“Yes.” His voice was low but firm, carrying the weight of the promise held within that single word. “I don’t care about any of this, Jade. All I care about is the two of you. I’ll fucking live on a farm and work at a gas station for the rest of my life if it means you and our baby will both be happy and safe. This? Fuck this. Fuck the city. Fuck this penthouse. Fuck my family,” he finished roughly, his eyes burning into mine. He took a step forward, bridging the gap between us that seemed to have widened in the last few minutes. “You and this baby...You’re my family now.”

“You mean that?” I whispered, searching his face for any sign of deceit. But all I saw was Dante, bare and stripped of his usual defenses.

“I swear on my life,” he said solemnly, reaching out to wrap his fingers around mine. His palms were rough, calloused from years of handling weapons and carrying the weight of a criminal empire. But his grip was gentle, almost delicate, as if he was afraid I’d shatter beneath his touch.

For a moment, we stood there in the glaring bathroom light and the biting silence, our hands intertwined in a lifeline of connection. The echo of his promise replayed in my mind, mingling with the steady rhythm of my heartbeat.

A strange kind of peace washed over me then. It wasn’t idealistic or naive. It was raw and ragged around the edges, born from hardship and mutual understanding. But it was ours—a shared commitment in this chaotic world Dante had unintentionally dragged me into.

Pulling me closer, Dante rested his forehead against mine. His voice was barely audible as he whispered, “I will do whatever it takes to keep you and our baby safe, Jade. I promise.”

And maybe it was crazy, but I believed him.

Chapter Forty-Nine: Dante

The desperation in our kiss told a story older than time, one of raw need clashing with the forbidden. "Shower with me?" I murmured against Jade's lips, barely giving her space to breathe, let alone answer. A nod, fervent and eager, was her reply before my mouth claimed hers again, guiding her backward until we were in the shower.

I reached out and twisted the tap; water cascaded from above, a cold contrast to the heat between us. The droplets hit my skin, mingling with the blood I hadn't had the chance to wash off—blood that marked me as what I was: a killer, a Moretti through and through.

"Jade," I said, voice thick with a cocktail of emotions I couldn't name. My hands, still tainted with a life recently extinguished, trembled as they cradled her face. Her eyes were wide, a brilliant blue that saw through the façade I upheld for everyone else. "I want you, so bad it hurts."

Her gaze didn’t waver, even as the water began to rinse away the sins from my hands. Blue eyes that should have been filled with repulsion softened instead, her body yielding against mine. "Dante," she whispered, her voice shaky but full of resolve. "I want this too."

A surge of relief washed over me as powerful as the shower's spray. Whatever this thing between us was, it was mutual—a craving beyond the physical, something perilous yet irresistible. It was in the way she said my name, like it meant more than just an identity. It was in the way she looked at me, not as the heir to a criminal empire, but as just Dante—flawed, conflicted, human.

The water warmed up, steam beginning to rise around us, a shroud that insulated us from the world outside. Here, in this cascade, nothing else existed—no family expectations, no hidden agendas. Just Jade and me. And it was perfect.

I exhaled, the sound torn from somewhere deep within me. "Are you sure?" The weight of my world teetered on the edge of her answer. Jade’s nod was firm, her eyes shining with an unshakable resolve that rooted me to the spot.

She understood, as did I, that this wasn't just a moment of reckless abandon—it was the pivot on which our futures would swing. Her gaze locked onto mine, fearless and fierce. Forget the damned consequences.

Her shirt hit the tile first, followed by the soft whisper of her leggings peeling away from her skin. They were soon joined by my own shirt—all discarded casualties of the storm we were about to unleash. Steam curled around us, a veil that blurred the hard edges of reality, but every sensation as I touched her was crystal clear.

"Dante," she gasped, her voice slicing through the sound of water pummeling tile. I dropped to my knees, worship at the altar of her body my only creed in this moment. My tongue found the sweet spot that made her hips jerk, and I held her steady against me. Her taste—unique and intoxicating—obliterated everything else. Below me, my own hunger strained against my thigh, begging for the warmth of her.

"Jade," I finally managed to grunt, voice muffled against her flesh as her fingers tangled in my wet hair, urging me on. She was my oasis in a desert of violence and power plays. But right now, I didn't want to think about the chaos waiting beyond the bathroom door. There was only her, her moans, and the unrelenting need to have her wrapped around me, drowning out the world.

As the water continued its relentless descent, I reveled in the way her body arched into my touch. The pressure of her grip on my hair was a sweet agony that spoke volumes of the pleasure I gave her. It was a heady feeling and I allowed myself to be swept away by the rush of it all.

I looked up at Jade, her dark hair plastered to her skin, framing a face etched with ecstasy. "Can you?" I asked, the challenge lacing my voice as much as the raw need to see her come undone. "Squirt for me, Jade."

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