Just like her father, who had once believed he could quietly claim his daughters’ inheritance as his own, burying himself in debt until that secret unraveled in the worst possible way. And now, her secret was ticking away like a time bomb, waiting for the moment it would detonate.
And hers had anexpirationdate.
Titus’s fingers trailed idly along her leg, his thumb brushing against her skin with casual intimacy. “You’re quiet.”
Jazz blinked, dragging herself back to the present. She forced a smile. “Just thinking.”
He studied her for a moment, dark eyes sharp and unreadable. Then, with a slight squeeze to her thigh, he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. “Whatever it is, forget it for tonight.”
Easier said than done. Jazz clenched her jaw and forced herself to look out the window, watching as the city lights smeared across the windows like streaks of liquid gold, stretching and shifting with every turn of the car. She resisted the urge to press her palm against her stomach, to confirm what she already knew was true. The weight of it pressed down on her, an invisible force she couldn’t shake. But she had to. At least for tonight.
Because while the gala loomed ahead, glittering with wealth and masked intentions, while hidden agendas would dictate every conversation, Jazz knew thereal storm wasn’t unfolding in the grand ballroom or behind closed doors. It was inside her, shifting, growing, changing everything she thought she knew about her future.
And soon, there would be no hidingit.
The moment the town car pulled into the circular drive of the hotel hosting the gala, the atmosphere shifted. The night had settled into a crisp stillness, but here—beneath the glow of the chandeliers spilling from the grand entrance—the air buzzed with energy.
Through the car windows she saw flashbulbs strobed, illuminating the well-dressed elite stepping onto the long, scarlet carpet stretching toward the entrance. The bursts of light were blinding, creating a dizzying contrast of brilliance and shadow. For a moment, faces disappeared in the wash of brightness, only to be revealed again in fractured glimpses—amosaic of elegance, ambition, and carefully curated personas.
Jazz blinked against the glare, the flashes momentarilydisorienting, areminder that every movement, every glance, was being recorded, analyzed, dissected in real-time. The rapid-fire clicks of cameras filled the air, blending with the murmured anticipation of onlookers, asteady murmur of whispered speculation and admiration. The scent of expensive perfume lingered in the cool night air, mingling with the faint, smoky tang of car exhaust from the luxury vehicles pulling up in precise intervals. Everything about the moment was curated, orchestrated, aspectacle of status playing out beneath the grand entrance’s golden glow. The scene was a carefully orchestrated display of wealth, influence, and expectation.
Inside the car, the silence between her and Titus held an unspoken impediment. As they inched forward in the slow-moving line of black-tie arrivals, Titus turned to her, studying her in the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the tinted windows. Then, without pretense or warning, he cupped her jaw, his fingers gentle but firm, and kissedher.
It wasn’t his usual kiss—not the possessive, all-consuming kindthat left no room for doubt. This one was softer, slower, aquiet kind of claiming. Areassurance. Apromise she wasn’t sure she understoodyet.
As the car slowed to a stop, the driver moved swiftly, stepping around to open the door. Before the handle clicked, Titus’s dark eyes flicked toward Jazz. He studied her, assessing in the way he always did, but this time, there was something else in his gaze—something watchful, protective.
“Ready?” His voice was smooth as always, but there was a note beneath it, aquiet concern.
Jazz drew on the composure she’d spent years perfecting. “I should be asking you that.”
A slow, sensuous smile ghosted over his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Instead, there was something else there—calculation, quiet amusement, aflicker of knowing arrogance that made it clear he was already playing the next move in whatever game he believed theywerein.
“Let’s go.”
The moment the driver opened the door, Titus exited first, unfolding from the car with the effortless grace of a man accustomed to commanding every space he entered. His movements were fluid, unhurried, as if the world itself adjusted to his pace. The crisp night air stirred the edges of his tuxedo jacket, but he remained untouched by it, his presence radiating an innate authority that sent an immediate ripple through the gathered crowd.
Conversations faltered, voices dipping lower as eyes subtly flicked toward him. Some guests instinctively stepped aside, making space without fully realizing they were doing it. Others exchanged glances, their conversation shifting from idle chatter to something more speculative, more charged. Even the photographers, who had been snapping indiscriminately, adjusted their focus, their lenses drawn to him as if compelled by an unspoken command.
The comments swelled at the sight of him. Ashift in energy, subtle yet undeniable, as heads turned, conversations momentarily paused, and the significance of his reputationsettled over the evening like an unspoken force. Photographers pivoted their lenses toward him, eager to capture the moment, the presence of a man whose name alone carried gravity. Some of the guests exchanged looks, whispers passing between them, speculation hanging in the air like a carefully poised blade.
Titus didn’t acknowledge any of it. He didn’t need to. His silence, his complete and utter control, spoke louder than any response ever could.
Jazz adjusted the folds of her sapphire-blue gown, smoothing the fabric over her hips before stepping out. The dress shimmered subtly beneath the golden glow of the entrance lights, catching the admiring glances of the photographers stationed just beyond the rope line. The cool evening air kissed her skin, astark contrast to the warmth of Titus’s hand as it found the small of herback.
He guided her forward with a touch that was both subtle and absolute.
The flashing cameras intensified. The moment they werefully visible, awave of voices surged toward them, each vying for attention.
“Titus Dante, this way!”
“Jazz, who designed your gown?”
“How does it feel to be the new Mrs. Dante?”
Titus didn’t slow. He moved with unwavering purpose, barely acknowledging the calls. It was a dance of restraint, of presence—one she knew well. The world could speculate, they could pry, but they would only see what he allowed them tosee.
Jazz lifted her chin, keeping her expression poised, composed. She knew the game. She played it well. And yet, she felt the burden of the cameras differently tonight. Not just as a woman stepping into the limelight alongside Titus Dante, but as someone carrying a secret that would change everything.
