Page 20 of Ivory Crown

I furrowed my brow, unsure. “Actually,” I asked. “Is your headache gone now?”

She blinked, as if processed the question, and then smiled at me, a real, genuine smile that reached her eyes. “Yes,” she murmured, placing a soft kiss over my heart. “Yes, it’s gone.”

“There you go, see? It’s not so bad here. Right?”

She didn’t answer. But for a second, I was pretty sure she was going to say it wasn’t.

Chapter Nine: Jade

The scent of sweat and sin still clung to the air as Dante’s firm hands swept over my skin, wiping away the evidence of our reckless abandon. His touch was a contradiction—tender in the way he handled me, yet every stroke whispered of ownership. The frenzy that had driven us faded to a quiet hum of satisfaction. I didn’t speak; words felt superfluous now.

He did. He said I was good, he praised me for behaving, he said that I was the most beautiful woman ever.

He said it so much, I was almost starting to believe him.

Exhausted and entwined, we surrendered to sleep, our limbs a tangled mess amidst sheets that felt like clouds but cost more than most people’s rent.

I came to with the first light of dawn sneaking past heavy curtains, my body still flush against Dante’s. For a breath, I let myself sink into the pillow’s embrace, into the illusion of peace beside the man who was both my prison and my solace. But as the fog of sleep cleared, the truth sharpened into focus. This room, no matter how lavish, was my velvet-lined cell, and Dante, for all the pleasure he could give, was the keeper of my chains.

I slid from the bed, careful not to rouse him. Watching him there, peaceful in slumber, it was easy to forget who he was—a Moretti, a name synonymous with power and danger. And yet, I couldn’t deny the way my heart raced at his nearness or the warmth that pooled inside me at the mere thought of his touch.

Fuck, he really was Pavloving me into this. I did not like it.

Or…did I?

No time to think about it.

“Jade,” his voice interrupted me, though his eyes remained closed. I stilled, holding my breath, waiting. But when no further words came, only the steady rhythm of his breathing, I exhaled and continued my silent escape to the sanctuary of the adjoining bathroom.

The water was scalding, the way I needed it to be. It cascaded over me, stripping away the remnants of last night’s transgressions. There in the shower, I tried to wash away the complexity of my emotions—guilt, desire, a dangerous hope that fluttered in my chest despite everything.

The clothes Dante provided were laid out for me: a blouse and slacks that clung to every curve, a silent reminder that nothing here was truly mine. I dressed swiftly, the fabric unfamiliar against my skin. The lacy bra and panties were a soft whisper of opulence that contrasted sharply with my own simple tastes. Yet, they fit perfectly, as though Dante had committed every inch of me to memory.

I padded out of his bedroom toward my makeshift office. I found myself before a desk piled with the tools of my trade. Vials, pipettes, notes scribbled in my messy hand—a makeshift office in Dante’s world. Here, I could almost forget the life I’d been plucked from. My fingers itched to pour over the data, to lose myself in the familiar dance of genetic codes and enzymes.

With a deep breath, I sat down, allowing the excitement of discovery to buoy my spirits. The work was a balm, a slice of normalcy in the chaos that had become my existence. I delved into the complexities of genomes, my mind alight with the potential of what lay within these walls of numbers and sequences.

For a moment, just a fleeting moment, the bars of my gilded cage dissolved, and I was simply Dr. Jade Bentley, lost in the thrill of science, the promise of changing the world one discovery at a time.

A long time must have passed in the silent sanctuary of research and numbers, but I scarcely noticed. The only sound was the soft click of my keyboard, a rhythmic cadence that marked the passage of time. It wasn’t until the scent of rich, dark coffee infiltrated the sterile air of concentration that I realized the morning was slipping by unnoticed.

I tensed, sensing more than seeing Dante’s looming figure behind me. A glance at the clock told me that I had been oblivious to everything but my work for an entire morning.

“Thought you might need this,” he said, his voice a low rumble as he set down the steaming mug beside a plain bagel on a small plate.

“Thanks,” I muttered, though gratitude wasn’t what pulsed through me. Irritation pricked at my skin, a nagging itch that I couldn’t scratch away.

He nodded, then crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall.

“What are you doing?”

“Hanging out,” he said as he took a sip of his own mug. “This is my house.”

“But I’m working…”

He nodded. “Right. You’re working in my house.”

I clenched my teeth. “Do you always have to watch over me like I’m some sort of lab rat?”

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