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.She wore her short hair fashionably ruffled, and had silver dangling earrings.The two of them turned heads when they passed by.Celia wasn’t used to people paying attention to her for any other reason than her being at the center of some disaster.It was a nice change.Mark liberated a couple of glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter and gave one to her with a slight bow.Grinning, Celia toasted him.The evening had a theme: Italian villa at twilight.Fake marble pillars draped with ivy had been set up in the corners, and strings of white lights decorated lattice arches under which people could sit on carved benches next to neoclassical statues.The gathered company was a who’s-who of Commerce City’s elite, politicians and businesspeople, actors and sports figures, all eager to show themselves great patrons of the arts.They were a mass of designer gowns and tuxedos, expensive perfumes and jewelry.Mark had revealed that he’d gotten his tickets for the gala from his father.A string quartet played Vivaldi.As part of the fund-raiser’s draw, the musicians played rare Stradivarius instruments, the best in the world, brought together for the first time to play in concert.They were worth millions.Celia honestly couldn’t tell the difference.Beautiful music was beautiful music.She still felt like she didn’t belong.She could have, if she’d wanted to, once upon a time.This was the kind of thing her parents had done during their young socialite days.“This is pretty swank, isn’t it?” Mark said.“Sure is.I feel like a million bucks.”“Wait a minute—aren’t you the heir to the West fortune? You are a million bucks.”She masked her grimace by sipping her champagne.“Maybe, on paper.I kind of try to ignore that.I have a nice, normal job, and a nice, normal apartment.”“And then some joker kidnaps you off the midtown bus.”She shrugged.“I try to ignore that, too.”He huffed, looking like he was about to counter with some pragmatic quip that might have come from her parents, when they were interrupted.“Mark! You actually made it.There’s hope for you yet.”Striding toward them, flanked by ever-present aides, reporters, and sycophants, was Mayor Anthony Paulson.He was tall—as tall as Mark, even—with a rugged, weathered face and thick salt-and-pepper hair.He was a charismatic force, his smile wide and genuine.“Hi, Dad.” Father and son shook hands, firmly and warmly, clearly happy to see each other.Mayor Paulson looked expectantly at her.“Dad, this is Celia West.Celia, my father: Mayor Anthony Paulson.”Celia braced for the wide-eyed flash of recognition that usually accompanied these introductions.Then the awe, the hesitation, and the impossibility of being treated normally.It didn’t happen.Paulson offered his hand; she placed hers in it and they shook politely.“Ms.West, it’s a pleasure.”“Likewise, sir.” She smiled, secretly relieved.She was going to have a good time this evening after all.“Please, call me Tony.” The mayor glanced conspiratorially at his son.“I don’t believe it.You not only found someone who’ll be seen in public with you, but she’s lovely and charming as well.Good work.”The group chuckled politely.Mark smiled an apology at her, but at the same time he seemed pleased with the approval.He stayed protectively close to her through the introductions his father insisted on making, showing off his son to the people he wanted to show off to.Mark needed a date, she realized, to be acceptable to his father in this setting.An accessory to increase his status, like an expensive watch.She was nearly flattered that she qualified as a trophy date.At least, she couldn’t be angry.This was what it’d be like to be a politician’s wife, she thought vaguely.To have a life in the public eye.Might not be so bad.Then again …Tony Paulson looked back to his entourage, searching for someone.He finally found her and had to coax her forward.“Andrea? Andrea, come meet Mark’s date.”Andrea Paulson, the mayor’s wife and Mark’s mother, didn’t look much like she wanted to be here.She held a half-empty glass of champagne and still managed to cross her arms.In her designer gown, sparkling black and silver, and perfect hair, she blended into the crowd.She gave Celia a tight-lipped smile.“Nice to meet you.” She turned to her husband.“Tony, I still have the headache, I’ll just have one of the boys drive me home—”“Not now, Andrea.I need you here.”Both of them were speaking through their teeth.Andrea turned her back on her husband and walked away.She always looked happier in the campaign photos.Mark let out a breath he’d been holding.“I think after eight years in office she’s a little tired of this.”“She’s fine,” Mayor Paulson said.His smile had turned static.“Another glass of champagne and she’ll be all smiles, you know how she is.So Mark, have you thought about my offer?”“I told you, Dad.I’m happy where I am.”The mayor provided the explanation.“I’ve got a place in my office all wrapped up with his name on it—Legal Affairs Administrator [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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