Page 91 of Ivory Obsession
His steady gaze met my wide-eyed one. “Your life might be in danger, Dr. Bentley.”
The fear that had been simmering under my skin bloomed into a full-blown dread at his declaration. A shaky breath escaped me as I braced myself against the counter.
Edward’s expression softened, watching my reaction. “I know this is hard to take in,” he murmured, grappling for the right words. “But it is in your best interest to make it look like you’re not collaborating with the police. Unless…”
“I don’t understand. Aren’t you the police?”
“Yes,” he said. “But I also want you to stay alive long enough to help.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means you’re in over your head,” he said, breaking the silence that had settled between us. His voice was low, carrying a weight that made my stomach churn. “You don’t know the kind of man you’re dealing with by getting involved with Dante Moretti.”
That name. That damn name sent a chill through me, colder than any draft this old building could conjure.
“Edward, you need to leave,” I said, my voice steady despite the chaos that threatened to erupt within me. “I can handle my business. It’s not your concern.”
But Edward didn’t move, his eyes searching mine as if looking for a crack in my defenses, a sign of the vulnerability I was desperate to hide. “Jade, just listen—“
“Enough!” My words sliced through the air, sharp and brittle. “Just stop. I don’t need your protection.”
He took a step back, hands raised in a gesture of surrender that somehow felt more invasive than comforting. “Okay, Jade. But this isn’t over. The Morettis play a long game; they won’t let go easily. Be careful.”
With that, he turned away, his figure retreating as he made his way to the door. I watched him go, my breaths shallow. As the door clicked shut behind him, a profound silence filled the room, punctuated by the gentle flicker of candlelight.
The scent of lavender hung heavily in the air, once soothing, now a bitter reminder of the danger I had unwittingly invited into my life. Dante Moretti—the man with a smile that could cut through the darkness, now cast as the villain in my story. How had I been so blind?
He was so good in bed he’d stolen my ID out from under me and I couldn’t fucking believe it. I had been so naive.
The realization settled in, heavy and undeniable. I had been a pawn in a much larger game—one where the stakes were higher than I’d ever imagined. And Dante, with all his charm and enigmatic allure, had been the one to maneuver me into place.
As the last traces of daylight vanished beyond my window, I was left with nothing but the echo of Edward’s warning and the gnawing doubt that clawed at my conscience. What had I gotten myself into?
How could I have been so naive? My search for answers led me here, to the heart of darkness itself, and now it was clear—I was out of my depth. These weren’t just petty criminals or corrupt officials; this was the mafia, an entirely different beast. They played by rules I couldn’t begin to fathom.
“Focus, Jade,” I breathed, forcing myself to stand. I needed a plan, something to cling to in the chaos. The walls of my apartment felt too close, each shadow a lurking threat. I paced, every step a sharp rap against the hardwood floor, as I tried to shake off the suffocating dread.
“Think,” I urged myself. “You’re a scientist. You solve problems.” But science had logic, variables I could control. This—this was madness.
I stopped at the window, peering out into the evening. The city was alive, indifferent to the turmoil within me. Lights flickered on in buildings as people went about their lives, unaware of the sinister undercurrent that flowed just beneath the surface.
The solution was terrifying. It was also clear.
I needed to get away.
Chapter Forty: Jade
Iwrestled with my phone, the damn thing slippery as if it knew I was about to dive into something dangerous. My chest tightened, each breath a battle as Edward’s last words still echoed somewhere in the pit of my stomach. The screen flickered to life, throwing ghostly patterns across the walls of my cramped New York apartment.
“Come on, come on,” I muttered under my breath, heart knocking against my ribs like it was trying to break free. Then the ringing stopped, and the void on the other end of the line sucked all the air out of the room.
“Jade?” he asked.
“Dante,” I spat out, unable to keep the tremor from my voice, “did you have something to do with the stolen data from the lab? Did you swipe my ID card?” Anger flared up, raw and biting, mixing with the fear that had settled in my gut.
The other side of the call stayed quiet, and I could almost imagine him there, Dante Moretti, with his unnervingly calm demeanor, weighing his words like they were gold. Seconds stretched into an eternity, and my pulse pounded a frantic rhythm—I counted four...five...six thumps, each louder than the last in my ears.
“I need to speak to you in person.” The words slithered through the phone, Dante’s tone unreadable as a poker face. My fingers clenched around the device so hard it hurt.