Page 35 of Ivory Obsession
“Drive,” I muttered, not yet decided. The lights of the city smeared across the cab windows, a whirl of color against the encroaching darkness. In that moment, with her next to me, the city felt different—charged, like us.
Jade’s laughter cut through the hum of the moving taxi, and I turned to face her. “At this rate, you might as well just ask me out, Dante.” Her tone was light, playful, but it sliced right through the fog of my thoughts.
I ran a hand through my hair, a smile breaking free despite the storm brewing inside me. It was reckless, all of it, but that’s what made it feel so damn right. “You know what? You’re absolutely right,” I conceded, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
“Okay then, Dante Moretti. Impromptu date it is. Where are we headed?” Jade’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.
I instructed the driver to head to a secluded bar I knew—a place where the shadows clung to the walls and the cocktails were strong enough to dull even the sharpest edges of reality. The cab pulled up to the curb, and I paid the fare before leading her inside, the intimate buzz of conversation greeting us.
The bar was a cocoon of privacy, the perfect place for what I needed now—a moment out of time with someone who could unravel me with just a look. I steered us to a booth tucked away in the corner, its cushions worn from countless confessions.
“Whiskey for me, and...” I glanced at Jade, raising an eyebrow.
“Surprise me,” she said, a challenge lacing her words.
“Two of your finest concoctions,” I told the bartender with a nod. He understood the assignment—something potent enough to ease the barriers without dulling the senses.
As we settled into our seats, I felt a strange mix of comfort and vulnerability. This wasn’t my usual scene—I didn’t do vulnerability. But here I was, about to peel back layers of armor for a woman who saw through them anyway.
“Tell me something about you I can’t learn from your rap sheet or the company you keep,” Jade prompted, her gaze intense yet inviting.
“Rap sheet?” I asked, raising my brows.
“What, you’ve never been arrested?”
“No, I have,” I said, winking at her. “But let me answer your questions. I was thirteen when I learned to drive. Stole my father’s car in the dead of night just to feel the engine roar under my fingertips.
Jade laughed, the sound like music in the dimness of the bar. “You’re a rebel.”
“Was,” I corrected her, and took another sip. “I had no choice but to grow up fast, become part of... all this.” I gestured vaguely, encompassing a world she’d only glimpsed the edges of.
“Wait, you’re no longer a rebel?”
“Maybe in the eyes of the law, but my father would’ve killed me if the law had found me,” I said. “So my brother and I, we had to be smart.”
“Sounds lonely,” she observed softly, touching a nerve I kept well hidden.
“Maybe,” I conceded, and for a fleeting second, I wondered how different things would have been if I’d met Jade under other circumstances.
“Your turn,” I said, eager to shift the focus. “Tell me something real about Dr. Jade Bentley. Nothing work related.”
She smiled, leaning back against the leather. “When I was seven, I tried to create a new species by cross-pollinating flowers. I was convinced I’d invent a plant that could cure diseases.”
“Did it work?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“No, but I ruined my mom’s garden,” she replied. “You know the worst part is that she was more devastated than angry. I felt so bad. I never messed with flowers again. Maybe that’s why I decided to go to the brain instead of fauna and flora.”
We kept talking, exchanging anecdotes about our childhoods for what felt like a very long time.
The bar’s rowdy clamor had dwindled to a gentle hum, the hour late enough that only a few night owls lingered over their last rounds. The bartender started stacking chairs on tables, signaling time. I caught Jade’s eye, her dark hair falling in soft waves around her face, the dim light casting shadows that only enhanced her features.
“Oh, it looks like they’re closing,” she said.
“Do you want me to ask the manager if he’ll keep it open for us?”
“No,” she replied. “You can’t…no, it’s late. We should probably go.”
I leaned in, my voice dropping to a murmur only meant for her. “You’re right. Wait. Let me do that again. Do you want to get out of here?”