Page 61 of Ivory Legacy

The chime of the doorbell cut through the hushed silence of Dante’s penthouse, slicing the moment with a sharpness that mirrored my jumbled nerves. I drew in a breath, smoothed down my sweater, and let them in.

After a short elevator ride, there they were—my family, wrapped in winter coats, their faces flushed with cold and beaming smiles.

“Jade!” Emily lunged forward, her hug nearly sending us both to the floor. My dad held back, his eyes sweeping over the threshold into Dante’s world with an appraiser’s caution. Tom stood by, a skeptical arch to his brow as he took in the opulence around him.

“Come on, come on, you must be freezing,” I ushered them inside, stealing a glance at Dante standing across the room, a statue of composure.

“Mom, Dad, Em, Tom—this is Dante,” I said, gesturing toward him. My voice was steady, betraying none of the frantic beat drumming in my chest.

“Dr. and Mrs. Bentley, Emily, Tom,” Dante nodded, his deep voice rolling smoothly through the space between us.

“Please, call me Richard.” Dad extended a hand, his grip firm as he assessed Dante, the protective father etched into every line on his face.

“Emily,” my sister chirped, stepping up with bright-eyed curiosity that ignored the unspoken rules of cautious introduction.

“And Tom,” my brother added coolly, his handshake with Dante more perfunctory than welcoming, as if measuring the man before him against an invisible scale.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” Dante motioned toward the living room, where the morning light spilled over the velvet cushions and glistened off the glass ornaments that adorned the Christmas tree.

“Quite the place you’ve got here,” Tom remarked, his tone edged with a skepticism that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Jade has made it feel like home,” Dante replied, his gaze briefly meeting mine with an unspoken reassurance. “I hope you’ll find it welcoming.”

“Thank you, Dante.” Mom’s voice was warm, defusing the subtle tension as she admired the decorations I had meticulously placed. “You’ve both done a wonderful job.”

“Would anyone like coffee? Breakfast?” I offered, eager to slip into the familiar role of hostess. They hadn’t clocked the pregnancy belly yet—or if they had, they were polite enough not to mention it—and I was grateful for that.

“Sounds wonderful, dear,” Mom accepted with an appreciative smile, herding Emily toward the couch.

“Black for me,” Richard chimed in, still watching Dante closely.

“Same here,” Tom added, finally pulling off his coat and revealing a guarded curiosity beneath his initial reserve.

Dante moved to assist me, our domesticity momentarily overshadowing the darker threads woven into our lives. The scent of brewing coffee mingled with the piney freshness of the tree, crafting a semblance of normalcy amid the intricate dance of first impressions.

My sister joined me in the kitchen as Dante brought out the coffees.

“Okay,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Is tall, dark and handsome in there the reason you’ve been so hard to get a hold of lately?”

“Yes,” I admitted, keeping my eyes focused on the mugs in front of me. “Dante is...part of the reason.” The silence that followed was heavy, pregnant with a myriad of questions that Emily had yet to voice.

“Jade,” she began cautiously, finally breaking the silence. “What aren’t you telling me?”

I sighed and turned to face her. Her eyes were wide and filled with worry, mirroring my own. “I’m pregnant, Em,” I confessed softly.

Her eyes widened. “With his baby?”

“No, I invited you guys to meet him because he had nothing to do with this.”

My sarcasm seemed to cut through some of the tension as Emily let out a half-hearted chuckle, her hand coming to rest on my arm in a comforting touch. “I just… How did all this happen? And when were you planning on telling us?”

“I didn’t know how to,” I admitted. “That’s why everyone is here now… to meet him and… to see this.” I gestured towards my belly and watched as she paled.

“Mom and Dad are going to flip,” she said finally, her voice barely perceptible over the soft hiss of brewing coffee. I nodded, a lump forming in my throat.

I just hoped she meant it in a good way.

Chapter Thirty: Dante

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