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“Impressed?” Bastian was expressionless.
“It’s not what I expected, that’s for sure.”
The decorations were the strangest holiday fare she’d ever seen. Outside, all the Christmas lights on the estate had been white. Here, everything was silver, blue and white, with Swarovski crystals, or their closest imitation, shaped like real icicles and crystal snowflakes sparkling overhead.
The effect, paired with the glittering chandelier and the luxurious, gleaming limestone surfaces, was visually blinding, evoking the chill of winter.
“It’s not exactly my idea of holiday festivity,” she said carefully.
“They try to keep a non-denominational theme as much as possible.” Bastian rubbed his jaw. “Helps with networking.”
“That makes sense, but...I still think they could put up something more personal.”
“Personal?”
“Yes, you know, cozy. Snowmen and sprites and wooden soldiers. Poinsettias. Children’s art. Miniatures, bells. Or go with a multicultural theme, pinatas and candles.”
“Talk to their event planners.”
“Right. Business event. I keep forgetting.”
He recaptured her hand, squeezing it tightly. Glancing over at him, she saw he wasn’t looking at her, but scanning the room.
Paula became aware of all the eyes directed their way. Just as in the restaurant, they were the main focus of attention.
She grimaced. Some of the interest had to be on account of her being black and Bastian being white. Some would be down to her non-designer clothing and non-hollow-tummied figure. She definitely didn’t feel like she blended with the people here. The guests were as she expected, wealthy, somewhat mixed ethnically. They tended toward older rather than younger. There was not a single familiar face.
She took a deep breath. She was at the side of what had to be the most eligible bachelor in the room, and she was fairly sure she could hold her own with this bunch. Unless the conversation went to luxury hotels and designer watches, in which case she was toast.
Still. All those stares. “Is this where I start doing my doll act?”
“Doll?” He glanced at her.
“You know, smile and nod and fade into the background like a good little plus one.”
He shook his head. “God forbid. Just be yourself, honeycrisp.”
A surge of surprised delight filled her. “You mean that?” Then she remembered. “You can’t mean that. I heard everything you said to your girlfriend. You need a schmoozy date.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” His hand tightened around hers. “And I do need to network. But that’s not what you’re here for. I told you.”
“So what am I here for?” she challenged.
He smiled slowly. “A pleasant evening, munchies, good conversation.”
She laughed. “Fine, be like that. So where to first?”
His warm expression cooled as something unpleasant seemed to occur to him. He inhaled deeply. “Drinks.”
PAULA SIPPED OLD-FASHIONED HOTspiced cider, ignoring the attention washing over them in ever larger blasts. Several people had started to approach them, glancing at her curiously. Bastian steered her away before anybody made it to their side. It was a deft, practiced move that left her with an uneasy feeling.
Then she noticed his eyes darting about. “Who are you looking for?” she asked him.
“My parents. There they are.” Bastian faced her. “Let’s get the introductions over with. Then we don’t have to see them for the rest of the evening.”
She stared. “You sound like you’re facing a death sentence. Are they really such ogres?”
“Let’s just say I do everything in my power to minimize contact with them.”
