Page 90 of Ivory Crown

"Jade," I breathed out, my voice barely above a murmur. My forehead rested against hers, our breaths mingling. "For you, I'd walk away from it all." The words hung heavy in the air, a promise laced with the danger of my reality.

She blinked slowly, as if she was processing the weight of what I was offering – escape from this life of blood and shadows. Her fingers traced the line of my jaw, a silent acceptance of the chaos I brought into her orderly world.

"But it's not that simple, beautiful," I continued, the title slipping out with an intimacy that mirrored the way she had seeped into my bones. "It will take time, and you...you'll have to wait for me."

She thought for a second. “Can you do it before the baby is born?”

“I can’t make you any promises,” I said. “But what do we have? Seven months? I can try.”

“Okay,” she said. In that single syllable, I heard the echoes of her trust. It was enough to steel my resolve.

In that morning light, with the crisp fall air whispering through the city, I made an unspoken vow. No matter the cost, I would carve a path for us – one where the only shadows that clung were those cast by the sun filtering through the blinds.

I was going to get us out. And our child would never have to deal with the Moretti legacy.

Chapter Fifty-One: Jade

Iblinked the sleep from my eyes, the soft glow of dawn slipping through the blinds and announcing the start of another day. Sunday. In any other world, it would be a day to unwind, maybe curl up with a good book or take a long, lazy brunch. But this wasn't any other world; this was Dante Moretti's domain, where Sundays were just as strategic as any other day.

Turning my head, I found him beside me, chest rising and falling rhythmically. Even asleep, Dante commanded the space around him, an invisible force emanating from his relaxed form. He wore only black boxers, which did nothing to hide the power coiled in his muscles like a resting panther.

Everything came back in chunks.

The man who had attacked me, the way Dante had told me he was going to leave the Moretti family after everything.

I wanted to know more about him. I needed to.

"Whatcha got planned today?" My voice came out thick with remnants of dreams, but I couldn't help the curiosity that threaded through my words. Dante's plans, after all, had a way of spilling over into my life, whether I liked it or not.

He didn't even bother opening his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips as if he could sense my anticipation hanging in the air. "It's Sunday, beautiful. Even devils rest...sometimes." His hand found mine under the sheets, his touch sending a familiar jolt of heat straight to my core, reminding me of our escapades.

The room was cool, fall in New York City painting the penthouse with a chill that contrasted sharply with the warmth of his skin against mine. I shifted slightly, conscious of the sheer white shirt sticking to my skin and the dark blue panties that left little to imagination under the morning light.

"Rest?" I teased back, my own body waking up with every passing second, acutely aware of the danger and desire that slept next to me. "Since when does Dante Moretti rest?"

A chuckle rumbled in his throat, a deep sound that reverberated through the silent expanse of the bedroom. He finally opened his eyes, and I was met with the dark intensity that always seemed to see right through me. "For you, I might consider it."

“Good,” I said. “But don’t you have to worry about…you know. The thing that happened yesterday?”

"Someone's taken care of that problem from yesterday morning. No need to worry your pretty head about it." Dante's casual words cut through the lingering traces of warmth and intimacy, sending a cold reality check down my spine.

I sat up abruptly, leaving the comfort of our shared warmth. The sheets pooled at my waist, the morning air raising goosebumps on my arms. I wasn't naive; violence was part of his world—a world that had become mine by default. But hearing him speak of a man's life, one he had extinguished right in front of me, as though it were nothing more than taking out the trash...It was too much.

"I wasn't worried about that," I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. Anger and frustration bubbled inside me, not just at the callousness of his statement, but at this gilded cage I found myself in. "But I can't do this anymore, Dante. This confinement...it's suffocating."

Dante sat up too, the sheets slipping off his bare torso, revealing the inked skin and sculpted muscles that told tales of his allegiance to a legacy of crime. His expression was unreadable for a moment, and I wondered if I'd finally reached the boundary of the freedom he'd granted me within these walls.

"Jade," he said, his voice low and controlled. "This is for your safety. You know why—"

"Stop," I interrupted, unwilling to listen to the same excuses. "I need more than just being kept safe, Dante. I need to be part of the world again, not just a spectator from behind bulletproof glass."

His gaze didn't waver from mine, and in those dark eyes, I saw the gears turning as he weighed his options, calculated his control. It was always about control with Dante, whether it was over his family's empire or over me. But I also knew there was more to him than the hardened mafia prince he presented to the world. There was a vulnerability he only showed in the quiet moments we shared, a humanity that struggled against the binds of his birthright.

"Alright," he conceded after a tension-filled silence. "You can meet with your friend. But I'm coming with you."

"You know her. Dr. Harper,” I said. “Ellie.”

“Yeah, I know her,” he replied. “You think she’ll be up for brunch?”

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