They nodded politely as Elena and Maddie arrived.
“Ms Bartell.” The oldest man stepped forward, clasped Elena’s hands, and air-kissed her cheek. He turned. His gaze slunk its way all over Maddie. Twice.
“And who is this gorgeous delight?” he asked.
The hand at Maddie’s arm tightened a little and Elena’s smile became more fixed. “Madeleine Grey, author of the Duchamp world exclusive, meet Maurice Slater from BMC.”
Slater’s gaze leapt from Maddie’s chest to her face. “Ah, I see,” he said, respect tinging his voice. “Well, I’m honoured, Ms Grey.” He pointed at a woman behind him. “My assistant will give you Colin Sattler’s card in the features department. I hope you’ll call us if you have any thoughts on other profiles. Especially if they’re of the same standard as the Duchamp interview.”
“Thanks, Mr Slater.” Maddie accepted the card and slipped it into her clutch.
“You’re most welcome.” He shook her hand again and held it.
The grip on Maddie’s arm just above her elbow became like iron. “Lovely seeing you again, Maurice. Now we really must circulate.” Elena’s voice was firm, as she quickly led Maddie away.
When they were out of Slater’s line of sight, Elena’s pace slowed and her smile slipped along with her grip. “Well,” she said tightly, “brevity is a virtue with some in our industry.”
Before Maddie could comment, Elena changed direction and propelled them to a different group.
* * *
As the night wore on, Maddie met anyone who was anyone in publishing and her purse filled with important business cards.
“How are you faring?” Elena asked, when Maddie’s fixed grin slipped a little.
She tried to pull apart the threads of her emotions to answer that. “There’s so much posturing, isn’t there? A lot of ego. They’re so ruthless, ambitious, and hungry. It’s also a little disconcerting how much they want to talk to me. Last month they wouldn’t have given me a second look.”
“Well, that’s publishing. Your story is all anyone’s talking about. Many people in this room have tried to get that interview over the years. Yet here you are—an unknown who waltzed in and plucked the prize out from under all their noses. They want to size you up and see whether you’re a flash in the pan or someone to headhunt.”
“Interesting choice of words. Some of those editors made me feel like I was part of a game hunt in Africa.”
“You do have quite the pelt.” Elena smirked and dusted her fingertips along Maddie’s forearm to demonstrate. She left a trail of goosebumps. Her intense gaze was back, too. The one that made Maddie desperate to know what she was thinking.
A harried Felicity reappeared, hair spilling out of her updo, and a large, bulging bag on her shoulder. She passed Elena a wine glass. Maddie recalled she’d requested, some time ago, a vintage older than Felicity. “Do not ask me where I got that from. It’s best if you have plausible deniability.” She gave her shoulder bag a waggle.
Elena took the glass without comment. She nodded to Felicity and tilted her head back as she took a sip, her elegant, pale neck on display.
Maddie was transfixed—until the intoxicating view was blocked by one of Elena’s top newspaper executives. Jason Lucas stepped right inside her personal space and smiled at her.
“Well, hello again,” he said in what Maddie knew was his suave voice.
She stepped back to restore her space. The man was harmless enough. He’d often stopped at her desk to chat while he waited for Elena to be free. He never seemed fazed by the fact the conversation was mainly one sided. But listening was not one of his strong suits.
“Mr Lucas,” Maddie said.
Elena had stopped drinking, her gaze shifting between the two.
“Why so formal?” he asked. His eyes brightened as he took her in. “My, my, Madeleine, don’t you look beautiful.”
The way he said her name felt mangled without Elena’s subtle French inflection. “Maddie. It’s Maddie.”
“Not according to my boss.” He gave Elena a winning smile that was unreturned. He shifted back to Maddie, drawing her name out. “Mad-a-lin.”
Harmless or not, the man had all the comprehension skills of a toenail infection. She sighed.
“You promised me a dance,” Jason said with a wink. “You can tell me all about why your name is on everyone’s lips in here.”
What promise? She hadn’t promised anything. “No,” Maddie said firmly, “I didn’t—”
Elena’s attention was now fixed on Maddie. “Don’t let me keep you. If you have promised my junior executive a dance—”
Maddie gave an adamant head shake. “No! And, look, I’m here to network tonight—”
“Mad-a-lay-na.” Elena emphasised her own pronunciation. “One dance won’t get in the way of that.”
“See?” Jason looked delighted. “You even have permission from the boss. So let’s…” His arm was around Maddie’s waist before she could react, and he whisked her onto the dance floor.
Maddie, going with him by rote, was still trying to process what had just happened. Was this expected of her? Enforced dancing? Elena seemed to act as though it was. If this was networking, she hated it.
Jason swung her to face him, bringing her in line of sight of Elena.
Maddie stared at her former boss, trying to see some hint of whatever might explain what on earth Maddie was suddenly doing on the dance floor with Elena’s junior executive. She saw only a picture of indifference. So the woman didn’t even care Maddie had been press-ganged into this?
“Stop.” Maddie exhaled. “Jason, come on, you know I didn’t agree to this.”
“Hey, it’s just a dance. We’re here now, so let’s just go with it.” He grinned and pulled her against him. “Come on, it’ll be fun. One tiny, little dance. Where’s the harm?”
Maddie stepped back and pushed away, her anger rising. “You can’t seem to take a hint, so I’ll say it with smaller words: Get stuffed!”
