“Why?” she demanded.
“It’s the best move for my shareholders.” His fingers toyed with the rim of his frothy vodka drink.
“That’s a horrible answer.” She heard the panic in her voice. Control. She needed to set aside shock, pretend she hadn’t heard those words—I’m closing the lab—and convince him to change his mind.
“The Burke Initiative’s investors know that tripling our investment in cancer research and moving to a facility closer to the National Institutes of Health facilities makes sense,” he said. “But they expect a return. Most of them invest because my funds historically offer a strong profit. They aren’t necessarily using their money to feel good about saving the world one vaccine, or one cure, at a time.”
He took a long sip of his Never See It Coming. Maybe she should have ordered the same thing, because when she’d stepped off the elevator, determined to tell Carter Burke the truth—which he already knew—she hadn’t “seen” this detour coming.
“Your interest in scientific research is purely monetary?” she demanded, struggling to keep the note of dismay out of her voice. “What about saving lives?”
“I want to help people,” he said firmly. “But my days of playing the hero, rushing in with my unit to execute a rescue…those days are over. Now, I spend my time buried in spreadsheets, analyzing profit and loss statements.”
But part of him still wanted to be the man who saved the day. She would bet—well, not her lab, seeing as he planned to take that away from her anyway—but she’d wager her savings that there was still a chance she could convince him to fund her research.
She couldn’t walk away forever because she’d hit a roadblock.
She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. The Marchesa pulled across her back as if the dress expected perfect posture. She refused to adjust her position. She was done trying to fit into the gown’s world. Now it was time for the fancy dress to accommodate her.
She slid the velvet-covered chair away from the table. With a sideways glance at the golden bar, she stood and smoothed her hands over the layers of tulle. “I’m ready. Let’s go to the gala.”
He rose and offered his arm. A smile graced his movie-star features and a curl of dark hair fell across his forehead—a reminder that he was out of her league.
But I’m playing for something bigger than the man himself.
“You’re not leaving?” He led her up the marble steps and out of the bar.
“Oh, no, I’m taking full advantage of your invitation.” She propelled them both forward. “I’m going to dance at the gala.”
“You’re planning to convince me to keep it open, aren’t you?” he mused as they stepped into the lobby.
She paused and glanced over her shoulder. With her shoulders on display and see-through fabric billowing around her legs, it was no wonder her self-appointed prince for the evening could see right through her Cinderella moment to her true motives.
“Right now, I’m just a girl determined to get to the ball.”
Chapter 8
A gentleman would point out the flaws in the determined scientist’s plan. Carter could have explained that he couldn’t be convinced. He had an obligation to his investors. Her lab was a proven money pit. A single, small success did not justify additional funds. But one look at the woman walking through the maze of decorative trees hung with whimsical lights and he left his noble intentions on the steps leading down from the ballroom’s grand entrance.
“I feel like I’m walking through the set of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream with an orchestra playing in the background,” she said, a smile dancing on her lips. “There are fairies hanging in the tree branches. Paper ones, but still, fairies.”
Her grin faded as she glanced around the room. She couldn’t have missed the curious stares from the other attendees. He felt as if all eyes were on them.
Sure, he’d grown accustomed to drawing attention. The society pages paid careful attention to his love life, or lack thereof, as he generally brought aspiring models or socialites to these events. Sometimes the women reached out to him. But mostly he brought clients’ sisters or daughters. And he made the connections clear when he introduced his dates to other attendees. As per usual, tonight, everyone would want to know the identity of his mystery date.
Carter frowned as he glanced around the ballroom. He wasn’t interested in sharing his scientist with any of them.
“I don’t belong here,” Ivy whispered.
He moved to her side and placed his hand on her lower back. His palm rested against fabric, but his thumb brushed bare, smooth skin.
“With the fairies? Of course you do.” He placed his free hand on her shoulder, slipping his fingers beneath the train of glimmering tulle cascading down her back. He fought the temptation to wrap the fabric around his hand and pull. He wished to draw her away from here, retracing their steps to the elevator, all the way until they reached the door to the suite. He wanted to strip away the fuss and makeup until he saw her.
Ivy Grant. Determined scientist.
“But it’s…they’re…the whole place is gorgeous,” she said.
“You belong here, beautiful.”