Page 8 of Ivory Obsession

But just as quickly as our connection sparked, it extinguished. Another well-dressed figure approached him, hand extended, and Dante’s focus shifted. The intensity that had cocooned us evaporated, leaving me strangely hollow. Who was I kidding? Men like him didn’t look twice at women like me—not unless they wanted something. And yet, I hadn’t been able to decipher what lay behind his fleeting interest.

I took a small sip of my wine, the effervescence failing to lift the weight that had settled in my chest. It wasn’t like me to be so affected by someone—especially someone whose name I barely even knew. This wasn’t part of my meticulously planned evening.

“Dr. Bentley,” a voice called, jolting me from my thoughts.

“Right here,” I answered, turning towards the source—a potential investor I recognized from a recent biotech conference. As we engaged in the necessary pleasantries and discussed my work, I couldn’t help but feel the draw of Dante’s gravity, my attention split between my words and the place in the crowd where he had stood.

The crowd around me buzzed with a mix of greed and ambition, yet all I could feel was the silent pull toward the man who now monopolized my every thought. Dante Moretti, a name that rolled off the tongue with an exotic and dangerous cadence, was an enigma, his aura thick with unspoken power and secrets.

“Dr. Bentley, are you sure you’re alright?” the investor asked, concern lining his face as he caught my distracted gaze.

“Absolutely,” I assured him, snapping back to attention. “Forgive me, just... considering the next phase of our project.” A lie that tasted bitter on my tongue, but necessary to mask my unruly fascination. “You were saying you’re interested in the research?”

I really hoped he was going to mention his own name, but he didn’t.

“Yes, indeed,” he said, straightening his bowtie. “Your work on genetic sequencing is most impressive, Dr. Bentley. I am curious to know about the potential applications.”

I nodded, trying to focus on the conversation and push all thoughts of Dante Moretti away. Now was not the time to fantasize about a man who would barely ever look my way.

“Well, the science behind genetic sequencing has the potential to revolutionize medicine,” I began, launching into the rehearsed spiel Ellie and I had practiced when faced with potential investors.

He listened attentively, nodding along and prompting me with thoughtful questions. But as I spoke, my gaze kept wandering back to Dante, magnetically drawn to him. I could see him engaging in hushed conversations with various guests, his charming smile never reaching his eyes.

“The implications are enormous,” I continued, “from identifying predisposition to genetic diseases to revolutionizing personalized medicine.” The investor seemed interested, nodding along and asking thoughtful questions – a refreshing change from the apathy an unfortunate majority of these high-flyers had shown tonight. Feeling a surge of hope, I found myself warming up to the conversation.

He was listening until someone called him. “Excuse me for a second, Dr. Bentley,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere. I want to continue this conversation.”

“Of course,” I said.

And then he turned away, and all the work that I had done seemed to disappear in smoke. I had a horrible headache and it was only getting worse. Ellie was still engaged in conversation with Dr. White’s wife and my gaze immediately went to Dante Moretti again, who was speaking to the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life.

The night had been a wash. Things weren’t going anywhere and I just needed to get away-go home and curl up with a book, leave the fundraising to the person who was good at it, and make use of my vibrator as I thought about the hottest man I’d ever seen in real life.

Maybe I’d just need to go back to being successful in the lab, since clearly, I wasn’t going to be successful at this party.

That’s why I had to get away.

Chapter Five: Jade

Itried to get away…but I couldn’t.

The investor might have abandoned me, but there were other people beckoning me toward them. Swallowing hard, I tightened my grip on the delicate stem of the wine glass, its contents untouched. The thrumming pulse of the party beckoned me to blend in, but every cell in my body screamed for an exit. Instead, I forced one foot in front of the other, slipping between clusters of tailored suits and silk gowns.

“Dr. Bentley,” they’d say, their smiles as rehearsed as mine, “tell us about your work.”

I did. Over and over, the same pitch, my voice steady even as my hands betrayed a subtle tremble. I squeezed the cool glass, the condensation a welcome distraction from the lukewarm handshakes and vacant gazes. My research was groundbreaking, the future of biotechnology – I believed it with every fiber of my being. But belief doesn’t fund labs or buy equipment.

The nods came easy, their eyes glazed with polite disinterest. I could almost hear the doors of opportunity slamming shut with each cordial, “We’ll be in touch.” It was a dance I knew too well, each step measured, each twirl leaving me slightly more dizzy and disheartened.

“Exciting stuff,” one investor murmured before his gaze slid past me, seeking out someone else, something more promising. I smiled, nodded, and moved on. My fingers brushed against the rim of the untouched wine, the temptation momentarily flickering before I shoved it down. Wine wouldn’t steady my nerves; it was clarity I needed, not cloudiness.

With each encounter, my smile stretched tighter across my face, a mask that hid the frustration simmering just below the surface. I was a scientist, not a salesman, yet here I was, peddling my life’s work like some cheap trinket. I wondered if they could sense the desperation behind my well-rehearsed spiel, if that was what turned them away.

“Your dedication is admirable, Dr. Bentley,” another empty suit remarked before drifting off into the crowd.

My glass still full, I resisted the urge to take a sip. Wine wouldn’t steady my nerves; it was clarity I needed, not cloudiness. I circulated through the room, my heart sinking a little more with each superficial exchange. But I couldn’t afford to show weakness, not here, not in the lion’s den where every predator was looking for their next prey. And in this world, vulnerability was the blood in the water that drew them in.

If I had to stay here, I was going to fucking work.

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