She tilted her head slightly, just enough for him to see the question lingering in her eyes, the unspoken doubt. “Would you tell me if that weren’t true?”
Titus met her gaze, his fingers tightening slightly at her waist. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
It wasn’t a direct answer, but it was enough to make her hesitate before nodding, her lips pressing together as if considering his words. He could feel the tension in her muscles, the silent war between wanting to believe him and fearing that this—whatever it was—was built on something fragile. The gradual release of a soft sigh and the gentle nuzzling of her head into the crease of his arm did nothing to alleviate the doubt that lingered below the surface. She was afraid.
He let the silence stretch between them, waiting, watching as her breathing slowed again, her body slackening into his. And just when he thought she had fallen asleep, she whispered, “Love doesn’t protect people in your world,does it?”
His jaw clenched, but his voice remained steady. “No. Power does.”
She didn’t challenge him or push for more, but the silence that followed felt heavier than words ever could. And the way her fingers rubbed slightly against his chest, the way her heart beat an erratic tattoo, told him everything. She was retreating, folding into herself in a way that made something dark and restless wrap inside and through him. She didn’t like his answer, and worse, she was trying not to let him see that she didn’t likeit.
That unsettled him in a way he couldn’t ignore. He was used to knowing every move before it was made, to bending circumstances—and people—to his will. Butthis?
The quiet disappointment she tried to mask, the way she pulled back ever so slightly, as if preparing herself for something inevitable—he didn’t know how to counterthat.
He could fight threats. He could destroy obstacles. But he had no strategy for this, no defense against the way she made him question thingshe had never questioned before. Domination had always been his weapon, his armor, but with her, it felt like an illusion. She made him question whether that was enough—whether winning was enough. And if it wasn’t, then whatwas?
Jazz shifted slightly against him, her fingers skimming lightly over his chest, tracing absent, thoughtless shapes, her touch deceptively casual. “Tell me about your business. What is it, exactly, that the Dantes do?”
Titus went still for a fraction of a second before forcing himself to relax. “We own things,” he said simply. “Hotels. Casinos. Real estate. Shipping. Investments.”
Jazz lifted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. “Legal things.”
“Mostly.” He let the word hang, letting the importance of it settle between them. He could feel the shift in her, the way she tensed slightly, waiting, expecting more. And she would. Jazz wasn’t the type to accept half-truths.
He dragged a hand down her back, his touch slow, measured. “Every legitimate empire has its shadows. Ours is no different. We ensure that things move the way they’re supposed to, that interests are protected. That people don’t forget their place.”
Her fingers paused against his chest. “And what happens when they do?”
He met her gaze, unblinking. “We remind them.”
She held his gaze while she considered. “And the other parts?”
His fingers continued moving in slow, possessive strokes along her back, mapping the shape of her, committing her warmth to memory as he decided how much he could give her without giving away too much. “Sovereignty is the foundation of every empire, Jazz. You can’t own something without knowing how to protect it. How to expand it. That means influence. Command. Making sure things go the way they need to.”
Her lips parted, and he could see the conflict in her eyes. She wasn’t naïve, but she wasn’t from his world either. “So, you don’t justown things. You make sure no one else can take them from you.”
His grip tightened slightly. “That’s part of it.”
She let out a slow breath, as if weighing his words. “And your brothers? What do they do?”
He wasn’t surprised by the question—he had been waiting for it. Jazz wasn’t a pawn. It was her inquisitive nature, her stubbornness that had drawn him to her. Yet, there were parts of his life he wasn’t used to discussing, even in moments likethis.
His world wasn’t like hers. It didn’t operate on fairness or trust—it thrived on strength, on the ability to read between the lines and always be three steps ahead. Sharing details of his business wasn’t just about information, it was about power, control. And control was something he never gave freely.
But she wasn’t just anyone. And that made it harder to keep his guardup.
His hand slid to her waist, fingers pressing lightly, before moving up to her arm, tracing a slow path alongher skin. He felt the fine shiver that passed through her, the subtle way she leaned into his touch, and it only tightened the grip she had on his thoughts. The warmth of her skin seeped into his palm, anchoring him in the reality of her—of this moment. He let himself indulge in it, for just a heartbeat, before forcing down the sentiment, steeling himself against the threat of losing his tight grasp on his emotions. How much could he give her without giving away too much? How much did she alreadyknow?
“You’ve met my brothers,” he finally said, keeping his tone neutral. “Cade and Zane. They have their roles.”
“And what are those roles, exactly?” she pressed, tilting her head slightly to look up at him. “I’ve heard people call Zane ‘The Enforcer.’ Cade’s ‘The Chief.’ What does that actually mean?”
Titus threaded his fingers through her hair, his grip firm but deliberate. “Zane handles security, threats, anything that needs... enforcement. Cade advises. He’s the one who sees the angles before anyone elsedoes, the one who can talk his way into or out of anything.”
Jazz considered that for a moment before lifting her chin. “And what’s your role? Why do they call you The Dante?”
Titus let the question hang, savoring the question. Did she really not know? Or was she testing him, seeing if he’d dodge the truth? He could feed her the answer she expected, the one that kept her at arm’s length. But something in the way she held his gaze made him hesitate, made him want to give her something real. Even if he wasn’t sure what that wasyet.
