Page 73 of Ivory Crown

“Great. You didn’t answer my question.”

He stepped closer, hands empty and held slightly away from his sides—a peace gesture or maybe just a clear indication he wasn’t reaching for a weapon. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you,” he admitted, voice steady. “I’m worried about you. Hell, everyone’s worried about you.”

“Everyone who?” I retorted, though a part of me fluttered at the idea that someone out there might actually care.

“Dr. Harper, but not just her. Your colleagues... friends...” Rodriguez trailed off, as if he realized mid-sentence how sparse that list might be. “You send emails, sure, but that’s not enough.” He paused, looking at me like he could peel back the layers of bravado and see the scared woman beneath. “When was the last time you called your family?”

His question hit a nerve, sending a jolt of guilt through me. I couldn’t remember. Days? Weeks? Months? They all blurred together under the weight of my research and... Dante.

“None of your business,” I said, my voice a mix of defiance and evasion. It was easier to put up walls, keep him—and everyone else—at arm’s length. That way, when everything inevitably came crashing down, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much.

Rodriguez sighed, and something in his expression softened. “I know you’re in deep here, Jade. But it’s not too late to get out.”

I bit back the bitter laugh that wanted to escape. Not too late? If only he knew how wrong he was. There was no out—not anymore. I was entwined in Dante’s world, a place where shadows clung like lovers and every choice was a bargain with the devil himself.

His gaze dropped to my stomach, and I felt a flicker of vulnerability as his eyes widened in realization. The swell beneath my blue dress was modest, but undeniable. I watched his jaw tighten, the pieces falling into place for him.

“Jade,” he started, urgency sharpening his voice. “You don’t have to be a part of this life. I can help you. Let me drive you to the station.”

The words clawed at my throat, a silent scream begging to be released. For a fleeting second, I imagined what it would be like to take his offer—to feel safe, protected. But the illusion shattered as quickly as it formed.

I opened my mouth, intending to speak, but Rodriguez didn’t wait for an answer. He spoke with the conviction of a man who believed he could still save me from the depths I’d sunk into.

“Listen, Jade,” he continued, stepping closer, his voice a cloak trying to shield me from the chill of my own reality. “You don’t owe these people anything. You’re better than this world, better than...”

“Better than Dante?” I interjected, steel lacing my tone. My hands found my belly, protective, defiant. “You don’t understand, Detective. You can’t.”

A surge of conflicting emotions crashed over me, heavy and relentless as the tide. The weight of the decision anchored me to the spot, my feet refusing to move. Scenes from my research flashed through my mind—the sleepless nights, the breakthroughs that danced on the edge of my intellect, promises of change that could ripple through the world. All of that was back at Dante’s. I had to go back for it, I couldn’t just abandon it as if it was nothing.

“I can’t,” I murmured, more to myself than to Rodriguez. His expression shifted, eyes widening with something akin to understanding—or maybe just resignation.

“Jade,” Rodriguez said, his voice now a whisper of the command it once held. “Think about your child.”

My hand instinctively tightened over my stomach, over the secret hope growing there.

“Detective, I...” My words faltered as my gaze slid past Rodriguez, through the restaurant’s glass doors. There he was—Dante himself, a study in contradiction, power and peril wrapped in an impeccably tailored suit. His eyes scanned the room, missing nothing, that familiar allure pulling at me like gravity. He couldn’t see me from inside, and that was probably for the better.

He was a man who could make the very ground beneath you feel steady or sweep it from under your feet with a word. Yet, despite his command over this dark empire, there were moments, fleeting and far-between, when I saw the cracks in his armor. Moments when the light of something raw flickered behind those calculating eyes.

Moments that, despite myself, made me love him.

He would be furious if he knew I was talking to the police.

I was so close…part of me thought that all I wanted to do was escape. But now that I had a chance, there was another part of me that didn’t think I wanted to.

“I don’t think you have any idea of who Dante Moretti is,” I said.

I could tell he was fighting back the urge to tell me that I was wrong.

With a resigned sigh, Rodriguez reached out and held his hand out, palm up. “Can I borrow your phone?” he asked, cutting through the tension. The abrupt switch in conversation jarred me, and for a moment I hesitated before placing it in his waiting hand. His fingers brushed against mine briefly, and I recoiled like I’d been burnt.

He deftly navigated the device, typing something before handing it back to me. His name now saved under ‘IT for BioHQ’, a covert cry for help nestled amongst mundane contacts. My heart pounded in my chest as the gravity of what he had just done sunk in.

“You’re not subtle,” I said tersely, sarcastically thanking him for the gesture I never asked for.

Rodriguez met my gaze with hard eyes. “Jade,” he began, the softness in his tone contradicting the harshness of his stare. “That’s not an official police number. That’s my personal cellphone. If you ever feel threatened for any reason, if you’re ready you want to escape, you call me. No matter the time of day or night.”

“I’m not helpless,” I retorted, the words a whisper against the clamor of my own uncertainty. But even as I spoke, my fingers curled protectively around my phone, Rodriguez’s number secured within.

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