Page 22 of The New Gods

Still.

I had learned a hard lesson in Boston, and I was slow to trust anyone with my ideas.

“Truly, Dr. Ophidia.” His tone lost the joking and sarcasm. “I’m merely a curious old man.”

As I studied the map, I could feel him studying me.

“Dr. St. John?” The staff secretary, a woman who only seemed to glare at me, entered my office. Her face lit up when she found him. “Your wife has been calling you, but you left your mobile in your brief case, and you left your briefcase…”

“On the chair outside my office. I apologize, Madelyn. How many times has she rang?” He was back to smiling.

“I stopped counting, professor.” She returned his grin. When she caught me watching their exchange, it melted off her face. “Dr. Ophidia, I’m sorry to interrupt you.”

I waved my hand, pathetically, like—no big deal.She frowned.

“Dr. Ophidia has agreed to attend tonight. So add one to the list, Madelyn!” He strode out the door at a much quicker pace than he’d entered.”

“Wonderful.” She raked me with a look of such distaste, I seriously considered using a hand gesture I’d learned in Sicily to ward off the evil eye. “A late RSVP. How convenient.”

Ouch.

Dr. St. John was already gone, but I heard him chuckle.

“If it’s a problem…” I began. How did I end up feeling guilty attending an event I didn’t want to go to?

She blinked, waiting for me to finish.

“I—”

Turning on her heel, she left without another word.

Great.I was going to a party.

* * *

I made an effort. Standing in front of my mirror, I stared at the outfit I had chosen for myself. Never would my mother be caught dead in what I’d pulled together: tall boots paired with a mid-length skirt, and a sweater. It was dressed-up for me. I pushed my head band into place, not displeased by the way the dark green silk contrasted with my red hair.

My stomach was in knots. These things made me more nervous than the lectures I gave. Socializing definitely wasn’t my area of expertise. No matter how much I studied others—especially those who made it look easy—I never got the hang of it.

Night air blew in from my window. It had cooled considerably when the sun went down, enough that I considered a coat. But Ioannou Centre wasn’t far, and it was my social anxiety making me sweat.

I shut my window, grabbed my purse and umbrella, and left.

Outside, the cold soothed my hot cheeks. The sky was clear, and Oxford wasn’t so populated that I couldn’t make out the stars. I stopped, craning my neck to search out the few constellations I knew. But really? I was delaying my arrival.

Sighing, I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my skirt—another thing that would have horrified Mom—and hurried to the party.

The entire first floor was lit up. A few offices on the upper levels were bright as well. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one who snuck away to their office when the crowds became too much.

My fingers touched the index card I shoved in there from the last party. I’d made some notes—topics I could bring up if I got stuck.

Inside, the coat check person took my umbrella and purse, and I went to the large open room where everyone congregated. There was a small bar, but servers made rounds, collecting orders and empty glasses.

“Just a Coke,” I said, when a young man appeared at my side. He smiled, nodded, and left, leaving me standing in the sea of people, most of whom I didn’t know.

Lucky (or unluckily) for me, there was someone who noticed me. The dean of the Ioannou School and a Classics professor, met my gaze. He leaned over to the people surrounding him and approached me.

“Dr. Ophidia.” Dr. Merton was a middle-aged man whose expertise was in Roman Britain. He wore a welcoming smile. “I’m so glad you joined us. There are people here you should know. I’ve been telling them about your research.”

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