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Chapter 9
♥?♥?♥
Paula
THE NEXT HOUR WAS DIZZYING.Bastian hadn’t exaggerated. It was more networking party than holiday celebration. They duly networked like mad. It had been a long time for Paula; networking was generally her last idea of fun. This felt less hectic than she remembered, maybe because she had nothing at stake tonight.
Most of the conversation centered around people and places Paula didn’t know, so she had to bring out her smile-and-nod skills. But she wasn’t relegated to arm candy; Bastian surprised her by drawing her in to the conversations.
The way he introduced her always followed the same format: “Paula, I’d like you to meet so-and-so. So-and-so, this is Paula Raymond.” He never saidwhatshe was. She kept expecting him to add her professional qualifications, or “my neighbor” or the ever-popular “a close associate of mine,” but he never did.
Which left them to draw their own conclusions. Since he kept his arm around her most of that time, and even once dropped a kiss on her hair, Paula gathered the conclusion was: girlfriend.
Okay, then. Time to play girlfriend.
She met his academic colleagues and learned he had a reputation as a hard professor and that his research was centered on corporate policy in “the age of algorithms.”
Despite her determination not to, she got sucked into some of the more technical discussions. She was forced to admit Bastian was not just a pretty face. And that there was something highly stimulating about having a man discreetly stroke the bone of your hip with his thumb while he challenged you to defend your claim.
Watching Bastian Spencer do his thing was fascinating. He was smooth, charming, smiling often, but there was a focused element to his interactions.
Transactional, that was the word she was looking for. He acted businesslike no matter who he talked with, and he never let the conversation stray too far into personal territory.
He went through a couple of drinks but never visibly relaxed. He was always in control. Even when he went silent, Paula could tell he was working, assessing, strategizing.
They were increasingly the object of curious stares. Oddly, she wasn’t bothered by it. It felt good to stand beside him. He was warm, a solid presence beside her, and quietly solicitous. Somehow it felt natural when he turned to her in the middle of networking and asked if she needed refreshments, wanted to sit down or get some fresh air.
She approved of the way he stayed close. Once she found herself leaning against him, and he wrapped his arm around her more firmly without interrupting what he was saying to another guest. Once she hooked her arm around his waist, because it just felt right, and he glanced down briefly at her with heated eyes.
It felt better than good.
It felt heady.
Fine. She couldn’t deny it any longer. He might be a networking machine, but she liked this. He was beingtogetherwith her, but not controlling. He let her participate or not, at her whim. He gave whatever she said serious thought. And he never stopped touching her.
She liked this non-rude version of Bastian Spencer a dangerous amount.
And then on another note, there were the encounters with his relatives.
She lost count of the number of times Bastian’s family members swooped into their conversation, hijacked it, and breezily ignored her. For these people she merited all the attention of a decoration; very few of them even bothered to give her a second glance.
Gradually she began to suspect the chronic snubbing was less about her and more about commandeering Bastian. They ignored everyone but him and pitched him nonstop, proposing business ventures and hinting for favors. They competed for his attention, occasionally interrupting each other to get it.
Reluctantly she saw that he was right. A lot of people used him. What he hadn’t mentioned was how many of these gems were his own relatives.
“Will you please stop introducing me to them?” she murmured to him.
“To who?”
“The Spencers. Your relatives. They don’t care who you’re with. It’s you they want to talk to. I could be a plant for all they'd notice.”
“It’s not you I’m introducing to them,” he said in an odd tone. “It’s them I’m introducing to you.”
“How do you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter to me if they have a goo—” he began.
But again they were interrupted, this time by an old fellow who introduced himself as the spouse of one of Bastian’s female colleagues. Paula basked in his warmth and cheer…and the growing impression that her date cared if she had a good time.
