5. Chapter Five Jade
Chapter Five: Jade
I tried to get away…but I couldn’t.
The investor might have abandoned me, but there were other people beckoning me toward them. Swallowing hard, I tightened my grip on the delicate stem of the wine glass, its contents untouched. The thrumming pulse of the party beckoned me to blend in, but every cell in my body screamed for an exit. Instead, I forced one foot in front of the other, slipping between clusters of tailored suits and silk gowns.
“Dr. Bentley,” they’d say, their smiles as rehearsed as mine, “tell us about your work.”
I did. Over and over, the same pitch, my voice steady even as my hands betrayed a subtle tremble. I squeezed the cool glass, the condensation a welcome distraction from the lukewarm handshakes and vacant gazes. My research was groundbreaking, the future of biotechnology – I believed it with every fiber of my being. But belief doesn’t fund labs or buy equipment.
The nods came easy, their eyes glazed with polite disinterest. I could almost hear the doors of opportunity slamming shut with each cordial, “We’ll be in touch.” It was a dance I knew too well, each step measured, each twirl leaving me slightly more dizzy and disheartened.
“Exciting stuff,” one investor murmured before his gaze slid past me, seeking out someone else, something more promising. I smiled, nodded, and moved on. My fingers brushed against the rim of the untouched wine, the temptation momentarily flickering before I shoved it down. Wine wouldn’t steady my nerves; it was clarity I needed, not cloudiness.
With each encounter, my smile stretched tighter across my face, a mask that hid the frustration simmering just below the surface. I was a scientist, not a salesman, yet here I was, peddling my life’s work like some cheap trinket. I wondered if they could sense the desperation behind my well-rehearsed spiel, if that was what turned them away.
“Your dedication is admirable, Dr. Bentley,” another empty suit remarked before drifting off into the crowd.
My glass still full, I resisted the urge to take a sip. Wine wouldn’t steady my nerves; it was clarity I needed, not cloudiness. I circulated through the room, my heart sinking a little more with each superficial exchange. But I couldn’t afford to show weakness, not here, not in the lion’s den where every predator was looking for their next prey. And in this world, vulnerability was the blood in the water that drew them in.
If I had to stay here, I was going to fucking work.
But I needed a minute. I excused myself from the noise and the false smiles, seeking refuge by the balcony. I pushed through a set of double doors leading to a secluded balcony.
Leaning against the cool railing, I inhaled deeply, the night air a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. My eyes traced the city skyline, the twinkling lights like beacons of hope in the darkness. This was why I fought so hard, why I withstood the dismissive glances and veiled condescension. Each illuminated window represented a chance for change, advancement, a better future—all hinging on the success of my research.
As I turned back toward the ballroom, he was there—Dante Moretti. He moved with an assertive stride that parted the throngs of party-goers like he was Moses and they were the Red Sea. His presence was a force field; people either drew near to bask in his confidence or steered clear to avoid his scrutiny.
God, people had always seemed to ignore me. This man had a gravitational pull that was almost too much to even witness.
He was known in our circles for being something of a hobbyist. He attended conferences, spoke to Dr. White and his boss, frequently attended our talks. But beyond that…I didn’t know anything about Dante Moretti. I had never even spoken to him one-on-one.
Our eyes met across the crowded room, and a jolt of electricity surged through me. It defied logic. His lips curved into a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken attraction that crackled between us. It was wrong, so incredibly wrong, to let myself even entertain the thought of him. But the heart rarely listened to reason, and mine was a traitor, thudding wildly against my ribs as he approached.
“Dr. Bentley,” he greeted, his voice smooth and velvety, not matching the hardness of his eyes, which seemed to pierce through my defenses with ease. “You look lovely.”
I stammered a reply, momentarily thrown by his presence. My voice, usually steady and controlled during events like this, came out as a breathless whisper. “Mr. Moretti,” I replied. “Enjoying the evening?”
What I really wanted to ask was where the woman he was with was, but I did no such thing.
“Immensely, now that it’s gotten more interesting. But in general, not to be a bore, I do prefer the conferences,” There was a hint of mischief in his tone, a playful edge that contrasted sharply with the calculated coldness I’d expected.
I raised my eyebrows. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Well, I can only hear about people’s boats for so long before I get bored,” he said. “Please tell me you don’t have a boat.”
“I don’t have a boat.”
“Great,” he replied. “You just became more interesting than at least half of the attendees.”
“Is that right?” I couldn’t help the skeptical arch of my brow. “And here I thought these events were all the same to you.”
“Normally, yes. But tonight is different.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a half-smile, and I could swear there was genuine warmth there. Or maybe it was just another trick of the light. With men like Dante, you could never be too sure.
“Because of...?” I trailed off, inviting him to fill in the blanks.
“Let’s just say, I’ve developed a sudden interest in biotechnology.” His eyes held mine, dark and unreadable.
“Doesn’t seem that sudden.”
“No,” he replied. “But it’s time to finally make a move.”
“I’m not surprised you’re here,” I said. “BioHQ is on the cutting edge of a lot of things.”
“Perhaps it’s a bit about the company,” he said, edging closer. The heat from his body was a tantalizing contrast to the chill of the evening air. He took a subtle step forward, narrowing the space between us. My breath hitched in my throat, and I instinctively took a step back, suddenly acutely aware of the press of his body and the way his cologne filled the air around me. “But I’m particularly intrigued by the brilliant mind behind BioHQ lab’s latest breakthroughs.”
Jesus, was this man flirting with me?
“Flattery will get you everywhere...or nowhere at all, depending on your intentions,” I shot back, my pulse racing.
“Then I’ll have to make sure my intentions are crystal clear,” he murmured, closing the distance until there was barely a breath between us.
I should have stepped back, put a safe space between temptation and sensibility. Every fiber of my being, honed by years of prioritizing research over relationships, screamed at me to retreat. But something held me rooted to the spot, a strange mix of apprehension and a thrilling anticipation I couldn’t explain.
Dante Moretti was a riddle wrapped in a mystery, and I was suddenly desperate to unravel him.
“Look, I—“ My words were cut off by the unexpected chaos that erupted from my hand. The wine glass I’d been gesturing with tipped precariously, a fatal tilt that sent red wine cascading onto Dante’s pristine white shirt.
“Shit!” I gasped as the dark liquid bloomed across the fabric like a stain on our already complex interaction. Time seemed to stretch, every droplet a tiny betrayal of my usual poise.
“Dr, Bentley, it’s fine,” he said, his voice still smooth but with an edge that was as sharp as broken glass.
“God, I’m so sorry,” I stuttered, grabbing at the napkins from the nearby table and dabbing frantically at the spreading splotch. Each press only smeared the wine deeper into the fibers, my futile attempts making the disaster worse.
“Doctor.” Dante’s hand enveloped mine, stilling my panicked movements. His grip was firm, his touch sending an involuntary shiver through me despite the mess. “Stop, you’re just—“
“Making it worse, I know.” I could feel my face burning hotter than the embarrassment coursing through me. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Moretti. Is there anything I can do?”
He released my hand, and for a moment, we both looked down at the ruin of his shirt—a stark reminder that the evening had taken an unexpected turn. It was more than just the spilt wine; it was as if reality had splashed us both with cold water, washing away any pretense of normalcy between us.
“Let’s step outside for a moment,” Dante suggested, his annoyance cloaked in politeness, but I could tell he was rattled.
“Outside?” I echoed, unsure what good it would do but desperate to make amends.
“Trust me,” he said, a phrase that under any other circumstance might have sounded comforting. But coming from Dante Moretti, it felt like stepping into the unknown.
We moved through the throng of oblivious party-goers, our exit barely noticed. Once outside, the cool evening air hit me, a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of my embarrassment.
“Really, Mr. Moretti, I’ll pay for the dry cleaning, or I can—“
“Jade,” he interrupted, his tone softer now, almost amused. “It’s just a shirt.”
But as I looked up into his eyes, I knew it was never just anything with Dante Moretti.
“Look, I have a spare in my car,” he said, his voice cutting through the chill of the evening as we stood there, two silhouettes against the backdrop of city lights. “I always carry spare clothes in my car, just in case.”
“Good,” I stammered, relief washing over me. “That’s good.”
We walked in silence to where his car was parked, an unassuming black sedan that seemed almost too modest for a man with his magnetism. He clicked the remote, and the car gave a soft chirp before the doors unlocked.
“Here,” he said, popping the trunk. Inside was a duffel bag, and from it, he extracted a neatly folded shirt.
“Thank you.” The words barely managed to escape my lips. “If you give me the shirt, I might be able to... well, I work with enzymes, and I could probably get the stain out—“
Dante raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re going to science the stain away?”
“Something like that,” I replied, realizing how absurd it sounded outside the context of my lab.
“Or I could just launder it,” he suggested, his fingers working on the buttons so he could take it off. I watched, my throat dry, my wine long forgotten as he slowly pulled it off his body.
“You’re just going to change here?”
“What do you suggest I do?” he asked. “Don’t worry about it. This shirt is uncomfortable anyway.”
I blinked in surprise as he did just that, removing the shirt with a casual grace that belatedly reminded me we were alone in a dimly lit corner of the parking garage. he movement was deliberate, unhurried, and sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with the cool night air. The crisp white fabric skimmed his chest before landing discarded on the passenger seat.
My gaze, traitorous and unbidden, swept over the landscape of his practically exposed torso—the cut of his abs, the curve of his muscles under taut skin. I swallowed hard, trying to anchor myself in the reality that this was not a man to get lost in.
“Please, let me at least pay for the cleaning,” I insisted, not ready to admit defeat. “I feel terrible about this.”
His smile widened, and he shook his head, a silent chuckle escaping him. “Jade, stop. It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t fine; nothing about this felt fine.
“See? No harm done.” His voice was light, but there was a steel edge beneath it, a reminder of who he was.
“Right,” I managed to say, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears. “But I can’t... I mean, I don’t have anything to clean it with right now.”
“Jade,” he drawled, stepping closer, the heat from his body contradicting the cool air around us. “I don’t give a damn about the shirt. Seriously.”
“It’s probably more expensive than my entire wardrobe,” I replied. “I mean…I probably shouldn’t be spilling wine on the lab’s mysterious benefactor.”
That was an inside thought that somehow managed to become an outside thought. This fucking wine was going to be the death of me.
His expression didn’t falter, but something flickered in his eyes—a shadow of something unreadable. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I can tell you I’m not your mysterious benefactor. But I’m not opposed to investing in science, especially when it’s led by someone as passionate as you.”
“Your word,” I echoed, skepticism lacing my tone. “That’s supposed to be enough for me?”
He leaned in, a half-smile playing on his lips. “It has to be, doesn’t it? Because right now, that’s all I have to give you.”
Okay, maybe it wasn’t the wine. Maybe this man was going to be the death of me.
I felt the pull of the party’s laughter and music beckoning me from beyond the tinted windows of the car park. I was there to do something for my job, not flirt with this tall, gorgeous stranger. “I should go back.”
“Or,” he said, a new edge to his voice, “we could forget the party for a while.” His eyes held mine, unwavering, as if challenging me to deny the chemistry crackling between us.
Before I could protest, his hands found their way to my waist, pulling me against him with a sureness that left no room for doubt. His lips met mine, and I was caught—part of me still fighting to maintain control, the other sinking into the heady sensation of being wanted.
God, he was an incredible kisser–his lips soft and warm and insistent. The taste of him was intoxicating, spicy and bold, like a red wine that was too expensive for my palate yet too delicious to resist. I tried to remind myself that this wasn’t a good idea, to pull away, but it was as if my body had forgotten how to function.
His fingers tightened on my waist, a silent plea that made my heart hammer against my chest. I told myself again, pull away but the more insistent part of me begged stay. The heat in his eyes was addictive, a flame that threatened to burn me yet drew me like a moth.
“Come back to my place,” he whispered against my mouth when he pulled away. My breath hitched, caught between the wild drumming of my heart and the rational part of my brain shrieking in protest. I had to pull away, I was playing with fire. I didn’t have one-night-stands, particularly not with men who had a direct hand in the future of my work.
But he was so sexy.
“I...” My voice was a bare whisper, my eyes locked with his dark gaze that promised sin and salvation in equal measures.
“Say yes, Jade.” His voice was rich and tempting, filling me with anticipation that sent shivers coursing through my body.
For a moment, I faltered, hesitant. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t the type to throw caution to the wind or get involved with a man like Dante Moretti .
And yet... as his thumb traced light circles over my hip bone, sending sparks of heat spiraling into my core, I found myself surrendering to this man’s allure.
“Okay,” I agreed, almost breathlessly. His smirk widened as he pulled me even closer until there were no spaces left between us.
“Good girl,” he murmured against my lips again. “Don’t worry. You’re going to love it.”
I smiled against his mouth, any reservations I had melting away with his touch.
Fuck it, I decided. Ellie was right. I needed to get laid. And this man was beyond out of my league, so…what was the worst that could happen?