Page 25 of Ivory Legacy

He strode into my living room, a winter gust sneaking in behind him before the door closed with a soft click. His coat dripped snow onto the hardwood floor, a stark reminder of the frigid world outside my Harbor Cove apartment. I crossed my arms over my chest, the action more protective than I intended.

“Look, Dante, I don’t have time for—“ My protest was cut short by his raised hand.

“I know you’re busy, Jade. Just give me five minutes.” The deep timbre of his voice wrapped around the plea, grounding it with sincerity.

“Five minutes,” I echoed, not missing the irony that time with Dante always seemed to bend and stretch far beyond what was promised.

“Thank you.” The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a shadow of a smile, but it didn’t reach those intense eyes that had seen too much. They darted around the room, taking in every detail as if memorizing my sanctuary for reasons I didn’t want to contemplate.

Then, without warning, he stepped forward, closing the gap between us. His arms enveloped me in an embrace that caught me off guard, warm despite the chill clinging to his clothes. A thousand sensations rocketed through me, none of which I could afford to examine too closely.

“Damn it, Dante...” I muttered against his shoulder, my words muffled by the fabric of his coat. My hands found their way to his back, pressing against muscle and bone. There was a comfort there, a familiarity that I couldn’t deny, no matter how fiercely my mind screamed at the recklessness of it all.

“Sorry,” he breathed out, his breath sending shivers across my skin—not from cold, but from something else entirely. “I just needed...”

“Three minutes left,” I reminded him, though neither of us made a move to break away.

My fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt, a sharp inhale caught in my throat. Dante’s presence was an immovable force, yet now he trembled, an earthquake vibrating through his solid frame. His face buried in my hair, breaths uneven and ragged against my neck.

“Jade.” It was more of a sigh than a word, soaked in desperation.

“Hey,” I said, my voice quiet, trying to steady him with my touch. “What’s going on?”

His body shuddered once more, and then I felt it—the dampness seeping into my hair, the unmistakable warmth of tears. Dante Moretti, the man who commanded armies with a look, who hid his heart behind walls of iron and ice, was crying. And not just a single tear, but a silent storm that he couldn’t contain any longer.

My heart twisted at the sight, a man on his knees in more ways than one. Dante, the epitome of controlled strength, the model of stoic demeanor, was now unraveling before me.

“Dante,” I whispered, my hands cupping his face. His eyes were shadowed with pain and something infinitely sorrowful. “Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured between sniffs. His voice was an unfamiliar rasp, each syllable laced with regret—the likes of which I had never heard from him before.

“For what?” My brows knitted together as I tried to read him. What could possibly have brought him to this state?

“For everything,” he said, shaking his head as if the weight of all he’d done was too much to bear. “For pulling you into my world... for putting you in danger... for not being able to give you what you deserve...”

His words hung in the air, heavy and raw. I didn’t know how to console him, didn’t even know if he wanted to be consoled. But what I did know was that the man before me was not the same Dante Moretti that walked into my apartment moments ago.This man was unmasked, stripped of his powerful exterior and bared to his very core.

“But you’re here,” I found myself saying, my voice soft yet unexpectedly steady. “Why did you come, Dante?”

Dante rubbed his temple. “I needed to talk to you,” he said.

I swallowed. “Okay,” I said. “You’re here. Talk.”

Chapter Thirteen: Dante

Jade's fingers were warm against my skin, the last traces of our shared tears still cooling on my cheeks. I'd stormed through Harbor Cove like a tempest, half-mad with worry, searching for her. Now, standing in the soft glow of her apartment, I was struck by how much I'd feared losing her.

I had thought I was so angry that she’d gotten away from me. But now that I saw her face, I realized that wasn’t what had been driving this search.

It was the fear that someone had shot her, too. It was the fear that I had lost her and our baby for good.

"Jade," I began, my voice gravelly with emotion, "I've been looking everywhere for you. The Carusos—they're not just going to sit back after what happened. They could come after you. They turned one of my men against me and I don’t know if they’re still searching or…I don’t know. I don’t want anything to happen to you. To either of you.”

Her eyes, a bastion of scientific curiosity turned to me, filled with a calm that belied the storm I knew raged inside her. She had always been the eye of my hurricane, the one certainty in a life built on shifting sands.

I stood there, the last vestiges of sunlight from the waning afternoon casting a soft light across Jade's face. My chest heaved with a mix of fear and relief; she was safe, at least for now.

"Let me get you some water," Jade said gently, her eyes never leaving mine as if she could peer right into the turmoil that twisted my guts.

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