Page 43 of Ivory Crown

Straightening my jacket, I felt the weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. It was time to face her, to see the concern flicker across those unknowing eyes, to reassure her without revealing the depth of the danger that lurked in our shadows.

But I also couldn’t let her know that the police were looking for her…because if I did, then maybe she would think there was a way to get out.

And there wasn’t.

Not as long as I was alive.

Chapter Eighteen: Jade

Iflipped open the freshly printed stack of papers on the mahogany desk, my fingers quivering slightly as I traced the margins for Ellie’s annotations. She had revised the document on her tablet and sent it back to me for me to peruse, but she had said nothing in her email about it.

Bless her.

It was as if she knew.

Scrawled between the lines of complex scientific jargon, her handwriting was a beacon of hidden distress. “Inconsistent results” read one note, “recheck data” begged another. It was all carefully crafted nonsense, a charade of research designed to signal my predicament to Ellie without alerting Dante to my silent screams for help.

“Everything alright with the paper?” Dante’s voice cut through the stillness of the morning, casual yet laced with an undercurrent of suspicion that made my skin crawl. His tall frame loomed in the doorway of his penthouse lab, dressed down in sweats that did nothing to diminish his intimidating aura.

He was so handsome. I had to pry my gaze away from him; from the curve of his muscle, the cut of his abs.

He was only wearing a white sleeveless shirt that clung to his body and I knew he was doing it to tease me. It wasn’t cold enough for that. I forced myself to look into his eyes again.

“Ellie’s just thorough,” I managed, keeping my tone even despite the knot forming in my stomach. “She’s my lab partner; it makes sense she’d want to review everything.” I met his gaze briefly, hoping he couldn’t hear the frantic beating of my heart or see the panic I was desperately trying to quell.

Dante nodded, the slightest furrow in his brow betraying his thoughts before he masked them again with practiced ease. “That’s good. Thorough is good.” He stepped closer, and I fought the urge to step back.

“Of course, I sent it to her,” I added quickly, almost stumbling over the words. The air felt thick, charged with unspoken words and the weight of Dante’s ever-present scrutiny. I knew he would pour over Ellie’s notes, analyzing them for any hint of betrayal. But there was no betrayal, not in the way he suspected. There was only the truth, encoded in the guise of scientific critique, a desperate plea for Ellie to see the real message hidden within the gibberish.

“Good,” Dante replied, fixing me with a look that seemed to pierce right through to my soul. “Very good. I don’t like that you sent the paper to her, but I get why you did. You said she’s brilliant, right?”

“The smartest person I know,” I said.

“She must be really smart, then,” he said.

“She has a degree in molecular science from Stanford,” I supplied, trying to keep the conversation on Ellie’s credentials and away from the hidden message. “And she’s been my right hand in our work since we joined the lab together. We understand each other.”

“Where did you get your degree from?” he asked. I can’t believe we had never talked about this.

“My undergrad from Iowa State University, doctorate from MIT,” I shared, a faint hint of pride seeping into my voice. “Not as impressive as Cornell business school…”

Dante chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that held a hint of surprise. “Didn’t take you for the humble type,” he said, his eyes holding a glint of amusement. “You’re damn right impressive.” He moved around the desk to stand in front of me, his presence tangible and magnetic.

“Thank you,” I murmured, having no idea how to respond to his unexpected praise. It felt strange, talking about my past, my achievements with Dante. The Dante who held me captive in a world where my intellect was used for nefarious purposes. The Dante who could joke and laugh while I was living a nightmare.

But…it wasn’t a nightmare, really. Dante was kind, and sweet, and he did get a bit possessive but fuck I had never had sex as good as I did with him. And after I’d been to the hospital, I hated to admit it, but I missed it.

But, I don’t know, we could have talked about it.

We would, once I managed to leave.

If Ellie understood—if she could decipher the urgency behind the fabricated errors—then maybe, just maybe, there was a sliver of hope for escape.

“Can I read it?” Dante asked, nodding towards the documents under my touch.

“Yes,” I said, even as confusion clouded his features. He reached for the paper, scanning the contents briefly before placing it back down with care.

“You shouldn’t work anymore.” His voice was gentle, but insistent. “Come have breakfast with me. You look so tired.”

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