Page 66 of Ivory Legacy

No, we had fallen into my father’s trap–and I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I scanned the dining room, its opulence muted by the buzz of impending introductions. Enzo stood, a pillar of tailored suits and unspoken power, as Tom and Emily Bentley crossed the threshold.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bentley, so good of you to join us,” Enzo’s voice rumbled, a velvet hammer in the quiet room. His handshake with Tom was firm, a brief clamp that said he could crush bone if it pleased him. To Emily, a gentle nod, his smile never reaching those dark, calculating eyes. “Please, think of our home as your own.”

“Thank you, Mr. Moretti,” Tom replied, his voice betraying a note of awe despite himself. Enzo had that effect – he drew you into his orbit and let you float there, only just above the gravity of his authority.

“Enzo, please,” my father corrected with a wry chuckle, guiding them further into the room. A subtle dance of dominance and hospitality played out before us – Enzo leading, the Bentleys following.

As they exchanged pleasantries, my attention shifted to my mother, who had been waiting patiently for her moment. She moved forward with the grace of calm seas, her presence a soothing counterpoint to Dad’s silent storm. Jade, who had been standing slightly behind me, stiffened as Mom approached.

“Jade, darling,” Mom cooed, opening her arms wide. Her embrace was like the sun breaking through clouds, a natural force of love and acceptance. “I can’t tell you how delighted I am to finally meet Dante’s special someone.”

“Mrs. Moretti, I’m overwhelmed.” Jade’s voice held a tremor, whether from cold or nerves, I couldn’t tell. She returned the hug, a tentative bird nesting in the safety of my mother’s warmth.

“Call me Maria, dear,” my mother insisted, pulling back just enough to hold Jade’s hands in hers. “Any friend of Dante’s is family to us.”

And there it was – the simple magic my mother wielded, turning strangers into kin with nothing but her heart laid bare in her palms. The tension eased from Jade’s shoulders, a visible melting that only Mom could inspire.

“Please, everyone, have a seat,” Mom gestured toward the table, its surface gleaming under the midday light streaming through the high windows. As we settled into the chairs, the promise of conversation hung ripe in the air, ready to be plucked.

I watched, admiring how my mother could weave camaraderie as easily as breathing. Yet beneath the surface, my mind churned with thoughts of Jade and the precarious dance we found ourselves in. I had to keep my cool.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” I offered, stepping next to Jade and slipping into the polite mask I wore so well. “The winter sun doesn’t always grace us with its presence.”

“Sure is,” Tom drawled, eyeing me with an amiable but sharp gaze. “Not a cloud in sight. Makes for a nice change from the gloom.”

“Indeed,” I agreed, noting Jade’s subtle shift in posture, the sunlight spilling across her face. She was here, in my sphere, and yet every second felt like threading a needle with trembling hands.

“Hope you all brought your appetites,” I said, steering the conversation toward safer waters. “The chefs have outdone themselves.”

“Starving,” Emily chimed in, her eyes lighting up. “Everything smells amazing.”

“Let’s hope it tastes as good as it smells,” I quipped, earning a round of chuckles as we all settled back, the momentary flicker of anxiety doused beneath the chatter of impending feasts and shared stories.

The hum of conversation melded with the clinking of fine china as we gathered around the heavily laden table. The midday winter sun filtered through the tall windows, casting a soft glow over the Moretti dining room where my family and Jade’s parents now sat. I positioned myself strategically next to Jade, trying my best to protect her.

“Your home is exquisite,” said Tom, his voice carrying an easygoing warmth that filled the space between us.

“Thank you,” I replied, watching Jade carefully as she nodded in agreement, her analytical eyes taking in every detail. “It’s been in the family for generations.”

“Must be nice, having all this history around you,” Emily mused, lifting her wine glass to catch the light.

“History is a double-edged sword,” I said, the words slipping out more somberly than intended. I caught Jade’s flicker of a frown and wondered if she heard the echo of burdens past.

“Speaking of history,” Enzo interjected with that commanding tone that had shaped much of my own life, “I trust we will soon be celebrating the addition of a new chapter. A wedding, perhaps?” His eyes landed on me, a knowing glint in them that belied the casualness of his words.

The air in my lungs felt suddenly heavy, as if the grandeur of the room was pressing down on me. I shot a glance at Jade, searching for any sign of distress. Her calm facade remained intact, yet I could almost hear the cogs turning behind those intelligent eyes.

“Ah, well—,” I began, but the sound of my father clearing his throat cut the sentence short.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said hastily, the words tumbling out as I reached for a distraction. “We have plenty to celebrate today, like this wonderful meal and delightful company.” My smile was tight, but I hoped it masked the sprinting pulse in my veins.

“Call me old-fashioned, but normally, getting a woman pregnant is getting ahead of yourself,” Enzo said, his eyes boring into mine. “I’m sure you’ll do the right thing. We’re happy to pay for the wedding, of course.”

I stumbled for words, the tension in the room suddenly tangible. “I—That’s very generous of you, Mr. Moretti,” Jade managed to say, her eyes wide but steady. Her hand slipped under the table to gently squeeze mine, a wordless promise of support.

“Please, call me Enzo,” my father insisted, his amicable smile seemingly oblivious to the awkwardness he’d created. “And it’s no trouble at all - we’re family now.”

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