Page 53 of Ivory Crown

Her hand covered her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. “Is he...”

“Alive? Yes. But it’s a damn reminder of what we’re up against every day.” I stood up, suddenly needing to put some distance between us. “You should go back to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

But she rose too, shaking her head. “I should probably check you over...come here.”

I hesitated, the part of me that craved normalcy, that wanted to lean on someone, almost gave in. But the mob boss in me resisted. Marco had almost died…what would happen to her? What would happen to our kid?

“Fine,” I relented, allowing her to take the lead. “But let’s get one thing straight, Jade. I know what you were trying to do and I’m pissed.”

“Okay. We can talk about it later,” she said. “You’re bleeding and I can’t have you passing out on me.”

I grumbled under my breath, but complied.

“Sit. Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Bathroom,” I said. “Under the sink.”

“Okay. Don’t go anywhere.”

I wasn’t planning on it. I sat there, on the sofa, watching as she took off my winter coat and walked to the bathroom as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

I leaned my head back, closed my eyes and tried to stave off the pounding headache that suddenly threatened to split my head.

She sat down next to me, balancing the first aid kit precariously on her knees. “Shirt off, please,” Jade instructed, her tone professional, yet I caught the slight tremor in her voice. Was it fear? Or something else?

I undid the buttons of my bloodied shirt, then discarded it with a flick of the wrist. Her eyes roved over my torso, not in lust—as many women’s had—but searching for damage. When her fingers pressed against my skin, checking for wounds I knew weren’t there, the contact sent a jolt through me.

“Looks like it’s just your brother’s blood then,” she concluded, her relief evident as she met my gaze. “You’re lucky.”

I sighed. “Doesn’t feel like I was lucky. Marco almost died because of me.”

“Dante…whatever happened, you can’t blame yourself. Is your brother a child?”

“Only in spirit,” I replied.

“There you go,” she said. “So how could you have known?”

There were so many ways I could have known. But right now wasn’t the time for that conversation.

I stood up, hoping to reclaim some semblance of control. “It’s late, or early, depending on how you look at it. You should get some rest.”

“And you?” she prodded, her brows knitting together in concern.

“I’ve got things to handle.” The lie rolled off my tongue with practiced ease. In truth, sleep would elude me now, my mind replaying the night’s events and the fact that she had almost escaped.

“At four in the morning? Dante, come to bed,” she said. “You need sleep, and the world can wait.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”

“That’s okay,” she said with a shy smile. “Shouldn’t we at least try?”

Chapter Twenty-Three: Jade

The room was quiet, the early hours of a New York autumn morning casting a faint glow through the curtains. Dante wasn’t here yet. I peeled off my escape outfit with trembling fingers—gloves, scarf, coat—all discarded then on the tile floor. The idea seemed ridiculous then, childish even. Thinking I could run? Crazy.

Dante stepped into the room, and relief flooded through me so fiercely it was almost a physical thing. He was there, alive, not a bullet hole in sight. “Hey,” he said simply, as if his life hadn’t been hanging by a thread mere hours ago. He kicked off his shoes and sat heavily on the edge of the bed; the mattress dipped under his weight. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled deeply.

“Hey,” I echoed back, unsure of anything else to say. My eyes scanned him for any sign of injury, but I knew there was nothing. Just the man himself looking every bit as composed as always except for strain lines around his eyes.

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