Ivory and obsession

Meryl watched as her mother stuffed food into her bag. "Meryl, don't forget to eat. We can't afford to spend any money on medicines for ulcers," she said. They couldn't afford money for anything, which was why Meryl had woken up, checked her savings account, and bought a flight ticket for the next plane to Manhattan.

"Meryl, it's enough," she said as her mother tried to fit a huge pack of gummies into her cheap travel bag. But her mother didn't listen and asked instead, "Have you called Asa?" Meryl nodded in confirmation.

Asa was her best friend since 4th grade, when the other girls would mock her for having the thickest, longest hair in school and call her "gorilla." So, Asa would help her braid it and pack it into a bun. Asa had asked her to live with her in Manhattan and had already succeeded in getting her a job in her high-end company, where she was an auditor. Meryl was going to work hard in Manhattan; she wanted to make Asa proud.

Her older brother, Steven, barged into the room, making her jump in fright. "Meryl, I have something to give you for luck," he said.

"Okay," Meryl said. Meryl screamed as Steven jumped and rubbed his armpit on her hair.

"You two, cut that out now! Steven, leave your sister alone!" their mother

"Get the heck off me!" Meryl said, pushing Steven off in between laughter and fake sobs.

"Meryl Elena Giovanni!!! You will not use such language here; is that clear?" Meryl replied, shamefacedly, "Yes, Mother."

Steven held his sister's shoulders and whispered into her ears, "I'll miss you, duckface."

"Can you prove that by not squashing my shoulders before I get to Manhattan?" Meryl replied, rolling her eyes at him.

"What do you mean? I have the softest hands in Illinois?" He replied, showing her his rough, calloused palms he got from doing the worst odd jobs he could find so they could make ends meet.

Meryl looked at him and said, "No, you don't." While laughing.

Steven looked at his palms and said, "Oh," making a face that said he just realized something big. "That's because I haven't moisturized yet." Then he spat into his palms, rubbed them together, and put his palms inches away from Meryl's annoyed face.

"How do you like them now, fancy lady?"

"Much better," she replied with a thumbs up.

"Meryl, you've said goodbye to friends?" Mrs. Giovanni asked. "What about your father?"

"Yes, Mother, I said goodbye to Haley and Cecelia already, and I went to the cemetery this afternoon to talk to Daddy."

"Good, I'm done with your luggage."

"Thank you, Mama," Meryl said, rushing towards her mom for a hug.

"Please be careful out there, my Elena," Mrs. Giovanni said tearfully.

Meryl tossed and turned on her bed as she thought of what this new city might bring for her. She was both excited and afraid. What if she just decided to stay here and find a good job? Galena wasn't a bad town; it could be very enchanting, and her boyfriend was here. She giggled as she thought of him.

She remembered the first time she had met Alex. He was in the 6th grade with her, and he thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and wouldn't stop staring. But he wasn't sure he had a chance with her, which didn't help that his father was the butcher, so he took to staring at her, making her very uncomfortable, until one day something happened.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Meryl read the note again to Asa with a bewildered look on her face. Asa laughed loudly until Meryl threw her a pillow.

"My mother can hear you, idiot," she said, also laughing.

"Okay, what do you want, Meryl?" Asa asked.

"I mean, he's cute, but kind of awkward; he barely talks," Meryl said despairingly.

"Just go out with him," Asa said, like it was the easiest solution.

"Who the hell still writes these?" Meryl said, flopping the letter on her bed. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Meryl had gone to school the next day and had seen Alex bent over some books in the library; she wondered why she had never tried looking at him before. He was quite good-looking; he had an oval face and very curly hair that complemented his glasses. He was tall and lean with a tan from always being in the sun to help his father with the media; her mother liked him because he was very respectful

Meryl had gone to school the next day and had seen Alex bent over some books in the library. She wondered why she had never tried looking at him before. He was quite good-looking, with an oval face and very curly hair that complemented his glasses. He was tall and lean, with a tan from always being in the sun to help his father with the media.

On their first date, Alex had taken her to one of the more expensive restaurants, and they had talked and talked. She had been surprised at what a good time she had. Alex was very gentle and caring, and he liked to listen to Meryl talk. They became close after a couple of dates, and soon Alex was dropping Meryl off at home on his well-worn Harley Davidson. He would pick her up to go to book sales, and he would stand with his hands in his pocket, waiting until she chose all the books she wanted so he could pay in return for a kiss and a smile that made him feel like he could do anything.

She remembered their last date; they were taking a walk from the diner because his bike was in the repair shop. He was holding her hand very tightly. They passed old lady Maurice, who lived next to the Giovanni family's garden, and Alex let Meryl's hand go so she could run to the tulips. She liked to cut a few and wear them like crowns on her hair, even though Mrs. Maurice greatly disapproved of her flowers being cut.

Meryl watched as he walked slowly towards her and noticed how much he had grown. The moon glistened on his tanned arms, while the night breeze ruffled his curls. She noticed how large his strides were; no matter how slowly he walked, he was always the first to get to a place because he was very tall.

She waited until he was standing directly in front of her, and he began kissing her everywhere but her lips; he was kissing her nose, neck, and face. Then he stopped and took the hand that held the purloined tulips.

"Do you know the term 'tulip mania'?" he asked while twirling her hair.

"No," she replied.

He stared into her green eyes. He loved her eyes and always joked that if he were to die doing anything, it would be looking into her eyes.

"It's a term used to describe a season in the 17th century where a single tulip bulb sold for more than 10 times the actual income of a skilled craftsperson," he told her in his calm, soothing voice.

Meryl, sensing the seriousness of the situation, quickly thought up a joke: "Wow, Mr. Alexander Monroe, I never thought you listened during classes."

"These things...they get in and never leave, whether you want them to or not," he replied with a small smile.

Meryl replied laughingly, "Well, I'm glad I have you to tell me these amazing facts."

"What will you do in Manhattan?" he asked her worriedly, like she hadn't told him just last month about the possibility of her leaving Galena.

"I'll work with Asa in her company as an assistant. The pay is not bad, and I can send something home," she replied.

Alex paused for a while; there was a look of tenderness in his eyes, and then he said, "We're almost at your place; let me give you a ride."

Meryl looked around and crossed her arms on her chest. "I don't see your bike, and I'm certainly not stealing a car."

Alex chuckled. "No, silly, hop on my back."

He bent his knees to make it easier for her to climb onto his back. Meryl raised her red halter dress up and let him use his arms to guide her onto his back. She laughed as he ran ahead like she was weightless and pecked his cheek clumsily. At that moment, she felt like she had stolen all the happiness in the world.

She almost jumped out of her skin when she heard her door creak, but her heart calmed down when Steven's head poked through the doorway.

"Hi," he said, coming in and looking at Meryl sheepishly. "I see you've been thinking about Alex."

Meryl looked at him. "What! No," she replied, her eyes shifty, but there was laughter in her words.

Steven lay beside Meryl, and they looked at the stars floating on her ceiling. Steven remembered standing on the rickety old chair for days as he helped her hang the stars, with her giving him directions until he had snapped at her, "You know I'm only helping you because Mom asked me to, right?" And Meryl had replied, "You would still have helped me whether Mom asked you to or not."

She was right; he loved helping her. She was his only sibling

She was his only sibling and sister, and he wanted everything to be perfect for her, which was why she told him about "the Manhattan Project," a private joke they had started sharing. He had asked for more overtime shifts at his workshop, where he was a mechanic, so he could save enough for her to start her life again in the city.

Now the three thousand dollars lay on his dresser as he lay on Meryl's bed. She was saying something about visiting the Grand Central Station, and he was thinking about visiting her soon.

"Steven," Meryl nudged his shoulder. "Are you even listening to me?" she asked, looking worried.

"Yes, you were saying something about getting stampeded to death," Steven replied, smirking at her.

"No, I was talking about visiting the Grand Central Station," Meryl said.

"It's the same thing," Steven said.

"Explain, Mr. Smart Guy," Meryl said, annoyed.

"Twenty-one million people visit that place annually, so it's a hazard," he replied.

Meryl face-palmed herself and turned to her brother, laughing. Soon, he joined her, and they morphed from laughter to talking about other things until they fell asleep together.

Meryl woke up with a start, her heart pounding. She grabbed her alarm clock and squinted at the time-7:30 AM. Her flight was at 12:45. Panic surged through her as she nearly flew out of bed, mumbling about what a dunce she was while rushing through her morning routine.

Her door burst open, and her brother, Steven, strolled in with an amused smirk. "Are you ready to go?" he asked casually. "Mother made coffee for you; it's in your flask. She also baked some cookies since you didn't want breakfast."

Meryl blinked at him in confusion. "What the heck is the time?"

Steven chuckled and glanced at his watch. "8:25."

"Shit, I'm going to miss that flight!" Meryl exclaimed, frantically scanning her room.

"What are you looking for?" Steven asked.

"My luggage," she replied, turning in circles.

"They're already in the car," he said, leaning against the doorway. "I put them in so we'd have one less thing to worry about."

Relief flooded through her. She exhaled heavily and raked her fingers through her thick, shoulder-length hair in an attempt to make it look somewhat presentable.

Steven, however, remained standing there, phone raised. A familiar click echoed in the room.

Meryl froze. "Are you taking pictures of me?"

Steven laughed like a hyena.

"What?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes.

"Your shirt is inside out, Miss Fashion Flipper."

Meryl looked down and groaned. Sure enough, she'd worn it the wrong way in her rush.

Steven was still laughing when their mother knocked and said, "Meryl, Alex is here to see you."

---

Alex was seated in the living room, sipping coffee from one of their old, large mugs. A half-eaten muffin rested on a saucer in front of him. Meryl paused at the doorway, watching as he absentmindedly stirred his coffee with a tiny spoon their mother, Miss Giovanni, had probably given him.

"Hi," Meryl greeted, making Alex jump slightly.

He set the spoon down and stood up, smiling. "Hey. I know you're in a rush, so I just wanted to give you this." He opened his palm to reveal a delicate turquoise bracelet carved in the shape of tulips.

Meryl was momentarily speechless. She extended her hand, allowing him to slip the bracelet onto her wrist. Then, without thinking, she grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him deeply.

Alex pulled her close, his grip firm but gentle. When he finally broke away, he whispered into her ear, "I'll call you every day. And I'll come see you."

Meryl nodded, her throat tight.

Hand in hand, they walked to the car. Alex opened the door for her, and she slid in beside her mother. Miss Giovanni smiled at Alex and gave him a small wave as Steven finished locking up the house.

"See you later, man," Steven said, giving Alex a fist bump before getting into the driver's seat.

As they drove off, Meryl's stomach growled-whether from nerves or excitement, she wasn't sure. She fingered the smooth stone of the bracelet and thought of Alex's kiss, a small smile playing on her lips.

---

Steven pulled into the airport parking lot and hopped out to help unload the luggage. Their mother stretched and sighed. "I need some water. Do either of you want anything?"

Steven shook his head. "No, thanks."

Meryl, still feeling jittery, also declined.

They were nearly done with the luggage when an unfamiliar voice called out, "Excuse me, sir! Excuse me!"

Steven turned to see a petite woman with a sharp, no-nonsense expression striding toward him. Her black hair was cut into a sleek bob, and she wore an elegant midi dress with a cinched waist that accentuated her collarbones. The straight-cut skirt stopped just below her knees, exuding timeless sophistication. A mini Salvatore Ferragamo bag hung from her wrist, its signature gancini lock detail gleaming in the sunlight.

Her blue eyes, icy and piercing, fixed on Steven. "You're parked in a reserved spot." Her voice was calm, yet it carried an undeniable authority.

Steven frowned. "This is the economy parking lot."

The woman muttered something under her breath-something that sounded like "cac."

Meryl and Steven exchanged puzzled glances.

"Excuse me," Meryl said, stepping forward, "but we weren't informed by security that there were reserved spaces in the economy section." She deliberately emphasized economy, making her point clear.

The woman's gaze flicked to Meryl, her expression unreadable. Then, as if Meryl weren't worth her time, she simply said, "Get your car out of my spot," turned on her heel, and walked away.

Meryl stood there, stunned, her outstretched hand still in midair. Steven sighed and muttered, "I'll go repark the car. Find Mom and tell her I'll be back in ten."

Meryl nodded, still watching as the woman's red-soled Louboutins clicked sharply against the pavement.

---

Inside the terminal, Miss Giovanni was speaking with a tall, distinguished man with salt-and-pepper hair. He had a deep, rich laugh, and their conversation seemed effortlessly warm.

Meryl hesitated before tapping her mother's arm. "We need to go."

Her mother turned to her with a smile. "Meryl, meet Mr. Murphy. He was my senior in high school."

Meryl barely glanced at him. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Murphy, but we really have to go."

Mr. Murphy chuckled, reached into his pocket, and handed her mother a business card. Its navy blue and gold design was sleek, but the back surprised Meryl-painter.

"You'll call me?" Mr. Murphy asked.

Miss Giovanni nodded, and he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before walking away. His cologne lingered, a mix of rich tobacco and vanilla.

"Where's Steven?" Miss Giovanni asked.

"He's reparking the car," Meryl said. "Oh-there he is."

Steven approached, looking frustrated. But before Meryl could ask, her attention was caught by him.

A man.

He was speaking to a slim woman who was touching his muscular arm lightly. But it was him Meryl couldn't stop looking at.

Their eyes met.

It felt like a full minute passed before Steven's voice snapped her back to reality.

"Meryl, you're going to miss your flight."

Steven was dragging her forward, but she stole one last glance at the man. His hair was thick and tousled, as if he'd run his fingers through it too many times. His skin was fair and smooth, his jawline sharp, his high cheekbones perfectly defined. But it was his eyes-dark, intense, and slightly manic-that unsettled and intrigued her the most.

He wore a fitted navy blue polo, layered with a black sleeveless vest over baggy dress pants. His style was effortlessly expensive, exuding wealth and arrogance in equal measure.

And just before she turned away, she saw it-he had pulled out a leather-bound journal and was scribbling something.

"Mom thinks he's a celebrity," Steven laughed.

Meryl barely heard him.

Because for some reason, she had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time she saw that man.

"Why is she so tactile?" Kylian wondered, glancing down at Lana's eager face as she excitedly described the fundraiser they would be attending later that evening. He forced a polite smile, though he couldn't care less about fundraisers-especially this one, since Lana would be there. But regaining his father's favor was more important than his annoyances, particularly after completing a year of house arrest for possession of arms and simple assault.

Originally sentenced to six years in prison, Kylian had avoided a harsher fate thanks to his father-one of the richest men in the world, with a net worth of seventy billion dollars. A few well-placed calls had secured him a significantly reduced sentence: a year of confinement in a private beachfront chalet. It was during this period that his parents introduced him to Lana Montgomery, the twenty-four-year-old daughter of one of Britain's largest crude oil magnates.

They had met at a gala, where his mother had eagerly pushed him toward Lana. She was undeniably beautiful-her sleek bob framing delicate features, and eyes as blue as forget-me-nots-but beauty could only hold his attention for so long. It hadn't taken him long to realize that was all there was to her. She was dull, painfully agreeable, and followed him around like a shadow, laughing at all his jokes-even the ones that weren't funny.

He had been on the verge of telling her he wasn't interested when she had unexpectedly shown up at his chalet just days into his sentence. She'd arrived in a tight pink dress that left little to the imagination, her floral perfume clinging to the air between them. He had barely managed to ask what she was doing there before she pushed her way inside, pressing her lips to his and leading him to the bedroom, where she had done things to him that he still couldn't quite believe.

A smirk played at his lips as the memory flickered through his mind. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Lana speaking until she touched his arm.

"Hey, are you even listening to me?"

Kylian blinked, refocusing. "Sorry, I zoned out. What were you asking?"

"It's alright," she said, smiling sweetly. "You must be tired. I was asking if you have a tux for the fundraiser."

"I have one somewhere," he replied coolly. When he noticed the slight fall in her expression-she had probably been hoping for an excuse to take him shopping-he forced a small smile to soften his response.

Then, out of nowhere, he saw her.

The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

Her beauty was almost unreal-like something sculpted by the gods themselves. Deep, haunting green eyes that seemed to see right through him, locking onto his as if they were meant to and never looking away. Her lips, full and perfectly shaped, were the kind men dreamed about.

That wild, raven-black hair, thick and untamed, framed her delicate face like a dark halo, making her look both angelic and dangerously irresistible. Her flawless, porcelain skin made his fingers ache to touch it, to trace every inch. She was perfection-a living masterpiece. And she didn't even know it.

She was the kind of woman who lingered in a man's thoughts long after she was gone. The kind you couldn't forget, no matter how hard you tried.

Not that he would ever want to.

She was meant to be his.

She just didn't know it yet.

---

---

Kylian's jaw tightened as he watched the man approach her. She smiled-those almond-shaped eyes, so perfect they looked almost unreal-locked onto the stranger with an expression that sent a sharp stab of irritation through him. His grip tightened as the man took her hand, pulling her gently away.

Forcing himself to look elsewhere, Kylian reached for the Louis Carmen leather-bound journal-one of the many his mother had given him since he started seeing that high-profile, ridiculously expensive therapist. The woman had only ten patients, yet she made him sit in her massive office for three hours every Saturday, asking what felt like the same question every fifteen minutes.

He didn't believe it helped. But he still went-to keep his mother happy.

With his Montblanc ballpoint pen, he began sketching. Every delicate curve of her face, every detail burned into his memory. He was so engrossed that he didn't hear Lana speaking.

"You're very absent-minded today," she observed.

Kylian rolled his eyes inwardly. Hadn't she noticed? He'd been absent-minded since he met her. Why wouldn't Lana just take a hint? But instead of voicing his irritation, he only smiled and twirled the pen between his fingers.

Lana reached for the journal, flipping it open to the finished portrait. Her eyebrows lifted, as if trying to recall where she had seen the face.

"She looks familiar," she murmured.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Kylian asked, a hint of wistfulness slipping into his voice.

Lana shrugged, feigning indifference. "If you like that type."

She dropped the journal onto the cold metal chair beside them. The magnets on the cover clanged against the surface, the sharp noise cutting through the airport lounge.

Kylian smirked, detecting the unmistakable edge of envy in her voice. The most insecure woman he knew, jealous of a picture. He decided to have a little fun-after all, there was nothing else to do.

"What do you think we're doing, Lana?" he asked smoothly.

Her head snapped toward him so fast he heard the crack of her neck. Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly, eyes wide with disbelief.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice unsteady.

But Kylian didn't answer.

The loudspeaker overhead crackled to life.

"Now boarding: First Class, Flight 107 to Manhattan."

His name was called. Without another word, Kylian stood, grabbing his journal.

And he left,leaving Lana to rush after him.

---