Page 44 of Ivory Obsession

And when that happened, if we ever got serious, it would be easier to soft launch our relationship.

I sat down at my desk, the glow of the computer screen casting a soft light across the papers strewn about. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, hesitating. Drafting an email to Dante Moretti wasn’t something I could do impulsively; every word had to be chosen with care, considering that Dr. White and a lot of other people in the org could just see my correspondence.

“Dr. Bentley invites you to dinner,” I began, but backspaced quickly. Too formal. He’d see right through it. I needed to be professional, yes, but not cold. We were well past formalities anyway–he was the only to have ever made me squirt.

“Moretti,” I typed, and then paused, considering. Just his last name felt too impersonal considering how close we’d been. “Dante,” I amended, letting the familiarity of his first name settle in the address line. It was a risk, using his first name like this, but risks were part of the game now.

“I’m sorry for putting this off for so long” I continued, my fingers moving steadily now. “How about dinner? I know a place. It’s neutral ground, good food, no surprises.” The words were a careful blend of invitation and challenge. I needed him to know that this was on my terms.

“Let’s talk business,” I said aloud as I read the words. “I think the bar is open until eleven.”

Perfect.

I read the email over once, twice, making sure there was no hint of vulnerability in the lines. When I was satisfied, I hit send. The message whisked away into the digital ether, carrying with it the potential for alliances or perhaps the spark that would ignite a war.

Now all I could do was wait for his response, prepare myself for whatever came next. Whether it was the calm before the storm or the beginning of an uneasy truce, only time would tell. But one thing was certain: Dante Moretti was dangerous—dangerous to my career, to my well-being, and most of all, to my heart. Yet here I was, inviting the lion to dinner, and wondering who would end up being devoured.

Chapter Seventeen: Dante

Islipped through the shadows, the ID card hot in my grip. It was Jade’s. The irony wasn’t lost on me—using her own key to unravel her life’s work. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I couldn’t afford to let nerves get the better of me. Not tonight.

The building loomed ahead, its façade barely touched by the weak glow of street lamps. It was late, the kind of hour where decent folks were tucked away in bed, not skulking around labs playing goddamn spy games. With each step closer, the weight of what I was about to do pressed down on me like a lead vest.

Clad in an unassuming ensemble of dark jeans and a black coat, I blended with the shadows. My attire was nondescript, calculated—chosen with the intention to render me invisible in the dimly lit streets. The cool night air bit through the fabric, gnawing at my skin. But it was a small price to pay for the anonymity it afforded me.

I was doing this on my own.

I could have asked my brother for help…but I didn’t want to get him involved. I didn’t want to have that conversation with Marco yet, when he asked me what she meant to me, since I wasn’t sure.

I didn’t know how to begin to untangle that.

A cold knot of anxiety twisted in my stomach as I approached the entrance. Jade’s ID card felt like a betrayal in my hand. She trusted me…and here I was, about to dismantle it all. Shoving the guilt aside, I focused on what needed to be done. Consequences would be dealt with later; for now, I had a mission to see through.

A quick swipe and the door clicked open, betraying no hint of my illicit entrance. Inside, the halls were silent except for the low hum of machines—sleepless sentinels of science. I could almost feel their electric breath on the back of my neck as I passed by.

Then there it was: the lab’s door, standing like a gatekeeper to all of Jade’s secrets. Dr. Bentley’s name glared at me from the plaque, her photo with Ellie beside it—a stark reminder of the personal cost of this heist.

Fuck.

“Sorry, ladies,” I muttered under my breath, my fingertips grazing over the cold metal of the handle. “This is business.”

I stepped into the sanctuary of intellect and ambition, every inch of the room charged with the power of human potential—and the danger of its misuse. My mission was clear; get the information and get out.

With one last glance over my shoulder, I closed the door behind me, sealing myself inside with the ghosts of tomorrow’s science.

I spotted Jade’s desk by the far window, bathed in the faint moonlight filtering through the blinds. Papers were scattered in her controlled chaos, the ink-stained evidence of countless hours of work and dedication. The sight gave me pause, a momentary flicker of regret. But I pushed it down, forced my feet to carry me forward.

Jade’s workstation was a mad scientist’s playground, scattered with neural diagrams and genomic sequences that glowed on the large monitors like constellations. I wondered if she just didn’t turn these off. I could almost hear her voice, low and precise, explaining each one, but there wasn’t time for imagination—the clock was ticking.

The system accepted her credentials without a hitch. How many times had I watched Jade, from the corner of my eye, typing in her password after we’d fucked? She didn’t know I was watching her then.

She’d been so engrossed in her thoughts, oblivious to the world around her, let alone my careful observation. Even in my betrayal, I couldn’t deny the admiration I felt for her dedication.

The admiration I felt for her.

The surge of adrenaline made my hands tremble, or maybe it was the gravity of betrayal—hard to tell when your heart’s a traitor too.

The desktop came alive with icons and folders, an unassuming façade for the treasure trove beneath. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for. Dr. Jade Bentley was methodical in her record keeping, and her system wasn’t hard to crack.