Page 34 of Ivory Crown

I did beg. Not in words, not out loud, but every moan from my lips, every buck of my hips — they were all pleas for more, for him. Dante was the only one who could reduce me to this state of wanton desperation and I hated how much I loved it. How much I needed it. How much I needed him.

But there was no way I was admitting that to him.

Because if he did know how much he could get to me, then I had no idea how I got out of this…at least how I got out of it both alive and sane.

Chapter Fourteen: Dante

Iwoke up with a jolt, the kind that tells you something’s off before your brain even catches up. The sheets were cool against my skin, but the air was thick with the kind of silence that screams trouble. Jade didn’t stir next to me, but it was her stillness that screamed louder than any cry for help. My eyes, used to commanding rooms and men twice as tough as I am, flicked to her face—too pale, like she’d never known the sun.

“Damn,” I muttered under my breath, sitting up. My hand, usually steady when holding a gun or making deals that could end lives, shook slightly as I brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. She felt too warm, her skin clammy beneath my touch.

“What’s going on?” Even as I kept my voice down, it filled the room, a low rumble that usually made people straighten up and listen. But right now, I wasn’t the mob boss; I was just a man scared for his woman.

Jade licked her lips, and even in the dim light of dawn creeping through the curtains, I saw the sheen of sweat on her brow. “Something doesn’t feel right.” Her voice was small, vulnerable.

Not at all like her.

“Talk to me, beautiful. What’s wrong?” I pressed, my mind already racing through what I could do, who I could call. In my world, you never showed weakness, but with her, all my cards were already on the table.

She swallowed hard, her throat working against whatever pain she was trying to hide from me. “I don’t know… I just feel really sick.”

“Okay, we’re getting you checked out.” I said it more to myself, a silent promise that I’d move heaven and earth to fix whatever this was. I slid one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back, lifting her against my chest. Her head fell against my shoulder, her trust in me absolute, even when everything else seemed uncertain.

I moved quickly through the penthouse, her body light in my arms. The place was a fortress of luxury, all sleek lines and expensive tastes. But right then, none of that mattered. Jade’s soft breath against my neck, each exhale shaky, was the only thing I could focus on.

“Is it bad?” I asked, cursing under my breath when I felt her nod against my skin.

“It hurts, Dante,” she murmured, her voice laced with an edge of fear I wasn’t used to hearing from her. Her fingers clutched at my shirt, gripping me like I was the only solid thing in a spinning world.

“Shit.” My heart hammered against my chest, a wild rhythm that matched the panic clawing up my throat. “Hold on, Jade. We’ll be there soon.”

I felt her nod again, and something inside me twisted. Jade Bentley was tough as nails, a woman who dissected complex problems for breakfast and never balked at a challenge. Seeing her like this, pale and scared, did something fierce and protective to me. It was more than just a jab to my gut; it was a sledgehammer to my entire being.

As we passed the walls adorned with art that cost more than most people made in a lifetime, I felt her shiver. She wasn’t impressed by the trappings of my dark legacy, and I loved her for it. She had her own empire of intellect, one that aimed to change the world rather than control it.

“Almost there,” I whispered, as much to reassure myself as her. We reached the elevator, and I hit the button with more force than necessary. The doors slid open, and we slipped inside, the silence enveloping us.

“Thank you, Dante,” Jade said, her voice steadier now, though it did little to ease the tightness in my chest.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light despite the dread settling like lead in my stomach. “Let’s just get you some help first, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed, her grip on me unyielding. As the elevator descended, I couldn’t help but think of how our lives had intertwined—her brilliance and my brutality, her science and my survival. Two worlds colliding, for better or for worse.

As the elevator dinged, signaling our arrival, I promised myself that I’d do whatever it took to make sure she was okay.

It would have taken too long to take her to a hospital, so I took her to the next best thing.

The sterile scent of the clinic was a slap of reality as I carried Jade through the sliding glass doors. The place was a fortress of discretion, one of many Moretti-owned clinics that catered to those who needed care without questions. The staff moved like ghosts, their eyes trained to see and forget.

If I hadn’t been so worried about Jade, I would’ve taken a minute to marvel at how quickly this had happened.

But I was too concerned, and Jade felt warm and cold in my arms all at once.

“Mr. Moretti,” the nurse at the front desk acknowledged me with a nod, her professionalism unwavering even as her gaze flickered over Jade’s form in my arms. I saw the briefest flash of concern before she masked it with clinical detachment.

I recognized her…but I couldn’t remember her name at all.

“We’ll get her in straight away. Exam room three is empty,” she said, leading us down the hall with purposeful strides. Her heels clicked against the tile, a metronome of urgency that matched the rhythm of my heart.

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