Page 75 of Ivory Crown

“Next week, actually,” I clarified, feeling Dante’s gaze upon me, steady and assessing.

“Next week?” My mother’s voice was laced with skepticism now. “It’s quick.”

I knew what they were thinking. It wasn’t like me to be impulsive, to disrupt routines or make spontaneous plans. But desperation had a way of rewriting the scripts we lived by.

“Please,” I said, softer this time. “It’s important to me.”

Silence.

Fuck, I wasn’t going to get out of this without saying something.

“I have news. They’re good news, but I want to tell you in person. And I don’t want to disrupt Christmas plans, I know Tom and Em are planning to go home. No…this would have to be sooner than that.”

“Good news?” My father’s tone was rich with amusement, an undercurrent of surprise threading through it. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?”

“Better than okay,” I assured them, trying to lace my words with a joy I hoped would be infectious. “I—I wanted to tell you both that I’ve made some significant progress at the lab.”

That was true. Just not at all what I was calling them about.

“Progress, she says,” my mom chuckled, her voice a melody I’d know anywhere. “That’s my girl, always breaking new ground.”

“Can’t wait to see you and hear all about it,” Dad chimed in, his voice bubbling with pride.

When the call ended, Dante and I were left in the quiet aftermath, the warmth of his hand a stark contrast to the chill creeping into my bones.

“Jade?” Dante’s voice was low, probing.

“Sorry, just... thinking.” I forced a smile, fighting the unease that gnawed at my insides. What if my parents noticed something off? What if the veil slipped and they glimpsed the danger lurking beneath the veneer of my life with Dante?

“Hey.” He squeezed my hand, pulling me back from the edge of my spiraling thoughts. “I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic. You okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s just been a lot lately.” The words tumbled out, half-truths wrapped in the guise of strength. But there was comfort in the simplicity of the lie, a momentary balm for the wounds that ran deep. I couldn’t exactly tell him about my encounter with the police, could I? No, he could never know. He would probably be furious, and that was the last thing I wanted.

He nodded, the shadow of a frown creasing his brow as he registered the tension coiled in my frame. Dante could probably read the lie–not really a lie, I told myself, just an omission–but he wasn’t pushing me.

“Parents like me,” he said. “As a general rule, parents think I’m nice.”

The statement was so unexpected that a smile tugged at the corner of my lips, making its way up to my eyes, brightening the dim room. Dante’s lips spread into a wide grin as he watched my amusement unfold, his eyes glinting with affection.

“I’m sure they will,” I said, the words as much for my own reassurance as his. But would they still think he was nice once they found out who he really was? That thought sent a shiver down my spine, but I pushed it aside, focusing on the warmth of Dante’s hand in mine. “I mean, they’ll probably love you, considering the baby and everything. But they might ask about when we’re getting married.”

“Great. Our parents will get along then.”

“Maybe too well,” I quipped, the shared banter helping to ease the knots of tension coiled within me. Dante chuckled at my comment, his laughter a soothing balm against the looming uncertainty.

I allowed myself to lean into his arms, his strength a reassurance in the face of my fears. His heart beat steadily against mine, each throb a testament to the connection we shared—and the danger it held.

When he stroked the outline of my face, tilting my chin up to look at him and kissed me, I kissed him back.

Chapter Forty-Four: Dante

Jade was upset.

I eased back from her, the plush cushion of the sofa giving way beneath my weight. There was something about the way Jade’s eyes had drifted, a vacant look that clawed at my insides. I could feel it—the crushing pressure of our reality pressing down on her, choking out the breath we both fought to catch.

I supposed this was my fault…and I hated it.

“Hey,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper as I reached out to her. My knuckles grazed the softness of her cheek in a tender stroke, a stark contrast to the rough life I led—a life she never asked to be a part of. “Are you okay?”

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