Page 4 of Ivory Obsession
“Do you think he’ll be there?” she said wistfully as I busied myself with the upcoming slides. I paused, immediately knowing exactly who she was referring to.
“Our mysterious benefactor?” I asked, keeping my tone as casual as possible. We seldom discussed our elusive funder, the shadowy figurehead of the companies that kept our work afloat. The mere mention of him brought an unwanted chill into our warm lab. “Well, if he is, there’s no way for us to know, right?”
“Right. Maybe don’t do anything then,” she said. “And let’s not mention any breakthroughs tonight. I think it might be best if we…I don’t know, keep it on the downlow for now.”
“I’m not going to talk about unverified research to a man in a suit with a degree in finance,” I replied. “What do you think I am?”
“A reckless genius?” Ellie ventured, her voice half-teasing, half-serious. The corners of her lips tugged upward into a gentle smile, the amusement in her eyes softening the sternness of her words.
I laughed at that, shaking my head in mock disapproval. “Reckless? Maybe. But genius? Always.” I turned to face her fully, my attention momentarily drawn away from the microscope. “And don’t worry about tonight. I may be playful, but I know when to be serious.”
“Okay, so don’t talk about unverified research with a suit, don’t sleep with a suit—“
”—and definitely don’t prank a suit,“ I finished for her, my eyebrows raised in feigned innocence. She let out a laugh that rang through the sterile lab, her amusement evident in the way her eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Right,” she retorted sarcastically, her smile still playing across her lips as she shook her head. “I feel like I should add ‘don’t get arrested’ to the list, but I have a feeling that won’t deter you either.”
“Oh, you know me too well,” I said, grinning at the playful accusation. Our banter was familiar, almost comforting amidst the daunting reality of our discovery and its implications.
We then returned to our individual tasks; Ellie meticulously compiling and examining our research data, while I continued analyzing slides under the microscope.
As the hours passed and the room darkened with the setting sun, our conversations began to dwindle, replaced by the hum of high-tech equipment and the scratch of pen against paper as we dedicated ourselves to our respective tasks. It felt like we were in our own little world, lost amongst cells and notes and a future teetering on the brink of our discovery.
Eventually, Ellie broke the silence. “I think we’ve done enough for today,” she said softly, her voice a pleasant interruption to the monotony of my observations. I glanced up from the microscope, blinking away my intense focus.
“Already?” I murmured, looking over at her. Ellie was standing by our cluttered workbench, her hand still resting on a stack of completed reports.
“We need to get ready,” she said. “We both need to go home and, you know, wash the science off of us.”
“Right, the glamourous world of red wine and black ties awaits,” I said with a sigh, tearing myself away from the microscope. I wasn’t particularly thrilled about the event, but it was a part of our jobs, one that couldn’t be ignored.
Ellie chuckled, her gaze softening as she watched me stand from my seat. “You know,” she began in a thoughtful tone, “I always find it amusing when you rumble about these events.”
“You do?” I asked.
Ellie nodded, her hands already busy tidying up some of the scattered papers on our shared desk. Her efficiency was a stark contrast to my own haphazard work habits. I watched her for a moment, appreciating her quiet dedication to our cause. “I mean, you look stunning, and you seem to enjoy yourself,” she said. “If one of those men wasn’t our mysterious benefactor, I would tell you to take one home tonight. After the last few weeks, you deserve to get laid.”
I burst out laughing, the sudden sound echoing throughout the lab. It was typical Ellie; under her professional demeanor and composed exterior, she had a knack for throwing curveballs that threw me off guard.
“Really, El?” I choked out between laughs, my eyes watering at her unexpected advice. “You’re now my wingwoman?”
“I mean,” she said. “You’re not doing it for yourself. And what’s the harm in a little one-night-stand? You don’t call him back, nothing happens. It’s just a little fun. You need a fuckbuddy.”
“Do you have any suggestions?” I asked.
“What about Dante Moretti? I saw how you were looking at him at that conference,” she said.
I shook my head. “The hobbyist? You think he dabbles in scientists too?”
“Hey, you never know until you try,” Ellie replied.
I shook my head. “Babe, I don’t think I stand a chance with a man that good-looking,” I said. “He’s probably already sleeping with some sort of model or something.”
“Oh my God. Just try it. What’s the worst that could happen?” she asked, laughing.
“What if he’s the benefactor?”
“That guy? That guy is only a benefactor to his own bank account,” she said. “I think that one’s a safe bet.”