Page 33 of Ivory Obsession
She raised her eyebrows as someone stopped by and obviously started to listen in on what we were saying. Jade and I weren’t public–I mean, I had no idea what we even were–but I didn’t want to add any complications to her life.
“Well, Dr. Bentley,” I started, aware we were being spied on. My voice carried just the right amount of surprise and pleasure at finding her amongst the throngs of New York’s elite. She stood by an installation that looked like a snapshot of a mind at work—the electric pulse of neurons captured in glass and light. “It is nice to run into you.”
“Mr. Moretti,” Jade replied, her words riding the edge of formality and curiosity. Her eyes, dark pools reflecting the neural network before us, searched mine for an instant too long.
“Intriguing, isn’t it?” I leaned closer, lowering my voice as if sharing a secret. “Reminds me of the complex workings of the brain.”
“Exactly,” she said, her lips curving into a smile that told me I’d hit the mark. “It’s fascinating to see something so intricate represented this way.”
I nodded, watching her with an intensity I reserved for things that mattered—like family business or the woman who stood unknowingly at the center of it all. Her passion was evident, her gestures animated as she explained the parallels between the artwork and her latest research project.
“Your work,” I began, steering our conversation back to her field, her comfort zone, “it must be thrilling to be on the cutting edge, shaping the future.”
Jade’s eyes lit up, and she launched into an explanation about potential breakthroughs and the ethical considerations they entailed. I listened, truly listened, letting her enthusiasm sweep over me. With every word, I wove myself into the fabric of her dialogue, connecting, engaging, ensuring she felt seen and heard.
“Science can have such a profound impact,” I added when she paused for breath. “It’s not unlike art in that regard.”
“Perhaps,” she conceded, her gaze flickering back to the installation. “Both can change perspectives, invoke emotions, challenge conventions.”
“Exactly,” I echoed, smiling at the ease of our exchange. “They both have the power to alter the world around us.”
And as we stood there, surrounded by the hum of the gallery, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Jade Bentley might just alter my world more than I ever anticipated.
“Speaking of change,” I ventured, catching a flicker of unease cross Jade’s face as she glanced at her phone, likely a work-related message demanding her attention. “It’s not all groundbreaking discoveries and accolades, right? There’s a weight to it.”
Jade tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her expression sobering. “Of course, the pursuit of knowledge can be a lonely journey.” My voice softened intentionally, inviting her to open up.
She hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Sometimes, it feels like you’re up against the world, trying to make a dent in the universe, but the universe isn’t always...receptive.”
Not really the time to bring up my pitch again, but I knew I almost had her.
“Is that how it is for you?” I probed gently.
“More often than I’d like to admit,” she replied, a hint of vulnerability seeping through. “There’s so much pressure, so many expectations. It can get overwhelming.”
I nodded, feeling a twinge of something—guilt, empathy—tugging at my conscience. “I understand more than you might think. In my line of work, the stakes are high, and the path is never clear-cut.”
Jade looked at me, really looked at me, and in that moment, I felt exposed. I was playing a dangerous game, flirting with the truth while keeping her in the dark. But damn if she didn’t make every risk feel worth it.
As I stepped closer to Jade, the electric atmosphere of the gallery shifted. Luis “Rami” Rodriguez sidled up beside us with his signature swagger. I should’ve known he would be here. Rami was intimidating at the best of times, often attending high-profile art shows where the pieces were incredibly expensive. His family was deep in the art business, and the Morettis had helped him with quite a bit of smuggling over the years.
I just wished he hadn’t shown up tonight, especially with the air of annoyance that spelled trouble.
“Moretti,” he greeted me with a curt nod and lightly accented English, his eyes flicking over to Jade with thinly veiled interest. “Didn’t peg you for an art aficionado.”
“Rami,” I acknowledged him evenly, my tone cool. “I appreciate the finer things in life. You know that.” My hand instinctively found its way to Jade’s lower back—a subtle move to establish my presence and claim the space around her.
“Is that so?” His gaze lingered on Jade a moment too long. “And who’s your lovely company?”
“Dr. Jade Bentley,” she introduced herself, extending her hand with a firmness that belied her slight unease.
“Ah, a doctor.” The corner of Rami’s mouth quirked up in a smirk. “Well, isn’t this a treat?”
“She’s a neuroscientist,” I added.
“Good for you,” Rami replied, his gaze boring into Jade’s.
I could tell Jade sensed the undercurrents at play, her scientific mind piecing together clues that something wasn’t quite right. I needed to assert control over the situation before Rami’s veiled threats became more than just insinuations. “Rami was just leaving,” I said pointedly, my body angled to shield Jade from any further discomfort.