Page 42 of Ivory Crown

“Humor me, Moretti.”

“Yeah. Can’t say that I have,” I replied evenly, my voice betraying none of the alarm bells ringing in my head. This was no casual chat over coffee; stakes were being laid out, and I needed to tread carefully. “Why?”

“Everyone’s concerned,” Rodriguez said, folding his arms across his chest. “Her folks, friends...they’re all worried. They haven’t seen her in a bit.”

I shook my head slightly, feigning indifference. “She got that promotion. She’s working really hard, in isolation.”

“Yeah, but surely, she could call her mother,” Rodriguez pressed on, his gaze unyielding.

The question hung in the air between us, a challenge I wasn’t quite prepared for. My jaw tightened imperceptibly as I searched for an answer that would satisfy without revealing too much.

“Jade’s... dedicated,” I finally said, choosing my words with caution. “Maybe too much so. Work can be consuming.”

“And you know this because…”

“Well, I’m her boss.”

“Right. But how do you know she’s too dedicated?”

“I don’t think it’s a secret that we slept together,” I said. “But I sleep with a lot of women, Detective. If you wanted me to give you a play-by-play of each one, we would be here all day long.”

He frowned slightly, prying deeper. “How very cavalier of you, Mr. Moretti.”

Rodriguez just watched me, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched out, becoming its own entity in the room, and I knew this dance was far from over.

He slid a card into my hand, an unspoken summons in the gesture. “Call if you hear something,” Rodriguez said, his voice stripped of any accusation but layered with insinuation.

I took the card, the edges sharp against my fingers, its weight disproportionate to its size. It was just a piece of cardboard, yet it felt like I was holding onto a leaden secret. As each second ticked by, it seemed to sear into my palm—a reminder of the stakes at play. Was this a veiled threat from the detective, or something more? A test of loyalty or perhaps a trap?

“Got it,” I replied, pocketing the card without another glance. But the imprint of the interaction didn’t leave me; it lingered, a nagging itch beneath my skin.

Rodriguez turned around to leave, and the air seemed to fill with invisible particles charged with the electricity of our exchange. His departure did little to unravel the knot of tension in my gut, which tightened further still as he disappeared from view. The paranoia I fought to keep at bay bloomed, dark and unbidden. What game was he playing? And what move would I have to make next?

I walked home in a daze. I barely even greeted Jade as I went into my office to make an important phone call. I watched from the penthouse window as Detective Rodriguez’s figure dwindled into the New York throng, swallowed by the ebb and flow of the city’s pulse. But the weight of his visit settled in my chest, dense and unshakable. I could feel the muscles around my jaw clench, a physical manifestation of the turmoil that his questions about Jade had stirred within me.

Jade, with her dark hair and eyes that sparkled like she knew something you didn’t, was my soft spot—the one thing that could make me forget who I was. And now, concern for her safety sliced through me, sharp and unexpected. She’d become my Achilles’ heel, and Rodriguez picking at that thread spelled trouble.

He wouldn’t understand…I was doing this for her.

For both of them.

I turned away from the window, the view of the cityscape blurring as my mind raced, formulating a plan to protect what was mine. Back inside the cool, controlled climate of my penthouse, the raw edge of vulnerability I felt standing there began to harden into resolve.

“Listen up,” I barked at my men through my headphones. I didn’t want them here as long as Jade was here, and virtual conferences felt silly…but they had to happen, at least until I snuffed out whoever the fuck dared betray us. “We’re on lockdown. I want eyes everywhere—cameras, bugs, the works. No one gets near my penthouse without my say-so. Luca, you still good guarding the penthouse from downstairs?”

“Yes, boss,” he said.

“Everyone else…”

“Understood, boss,” came the chorus of deep, gruff acknowledgments. My crew knew better than to question my orders. They were an extension of my will, instruments of protection—or destruction—if need be.

“Secure the perimeter. Monitor communications. Trust no one.” I spat the words out like bullets. My empire was a fortress, meticulously built and guarded, and I’d be damned if I let it crumble over a slip-up—a woman, even one like Jade.

“Any unusual chatter, you bring it straight to me. No delays, understand?”

“Okay. Get to work,” I dismissed them, ending the call. If Rodriguez was sniffing around, chances are others were too. I needed to move fast, stay one step ahead.

As the room quieted, I allowed myself a moment to look at the city again, now a sprawling chessboard where every move counted. I had to keep Jade safe, whatever the cost. Because in this life, in this world, you don’t just play for power—you play for survival. And nobody played the game better than Dante Moretti.

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