Page 111 of Prey

His lips twitched, and he looked like he was about to smile, but then I blinked, and his expression returned to neutral.

Whoa.

Was he… joking with me?

I didn’t know, and I didn’t really know what to do.

“I’m not timid,” I said.

No one said anything for a moment, then Roman threw his head back and laughed, and Micah smiled—a small one, but I was kind of surprised his face didn’t crack from the unnatural shift of movement.

I had to admit, he was handsome when he smiled.

Micah was a handsome man.

He looked almost like Roman, save for his eyes and cold mannerism.

“Come on. Let’s go in. Dominic is probably wondering where you are, and I know he’s pretty excited to talk to the judge’s daughter.”

My eyes widened at that. “I don’t know anything about my dad’s business. Why would he want to talk to me?”

Micah raised one eyebrow up in question, but it was Roman who answered me. “Baby, I’m sure Dominic just wants to talk to you about you, not your dad.”

“Oh.”

Somehow, that seemed worse.

Micah turned around and went back inside the bar. Roman led me along behind him.

I almost dug my heels in.

The nervousness from the car never went away, but it had quieted down a little for a moment.

It was back in full force, and I didn’t know what to do. These people weren’t my people.

I didn’t know how to interact with them, and worse, I was afraid I might do something or say something to embarrass Roman.

They already judged me for who my dad was. I knew it.

I could feel it in their stares as a group of people parted for Roman to walk by, as if they were the Red Sea and he was Moses.

We came to a table in the back, and I saw a crowd of men nearby. I only recognized two in the middle. Dominic and Kai.

They noticed us right away, and Dominic said something to the men nearby that had them dispersing within seconds.

Roman walked right up to the table, pulled out a seat for me, pushed me down on it, and took one close by, his arm coming up over the back of my chair.

Micah came to the table then, a tray of beer bottles in his hands, each topped off with a slice of lime.

I swallowed.

I wasn’t exactly a drinker.

Did they want to drink with me? Or worse, get me drunk so that I wouldn’t be so close-guarded and spill all of my dad’s secrets?

I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t know anything.

I tried not to show any interest in his work, to make sure he wouldn’t get the idea I was interested in following in his footsteps.

---