Page 46 of Keeping Kasey
It’s an invitation that I accept.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kasey
“How long does this normally take?” I ask Damon, who looks as bored as I am.
We’re sitting at a small, circular table near the platform of the base’s conference hall. The other three seats at our table are empty—the only empty seats in the room, which is packed with every Consoli soldier in the city.
It has to be at least two hundred men.
Damon checks his watch. “It should’ve started ten minutes ago. I’m starving.”
Tonight is my first Consoli family dinner.
Once a month, every soldier within the city comes together for a meeting and dinner. According to Damon, it ensures clear communication and fosters camaraderie, which directly improves efficiency and loyalty.
I have no idea what I’m supposed to gain from being here, but like everyone else, I didn’t have a choice. I tried to get out of it, even going so far as to fake a cough, but it wasn’t my best work, and Damon wasn’t falling for it.
So, I settle for taunting him.
“Shouldn’t you be with Logan and the others? You’re a capo, too. How come you’re missing out on the grand entrance?”
Damon leans back in his chair, the sleeves of his button-up rolled just below his elbows. His jacket is slung carelessly over the back of his chair, and his expression remains unbothered.
“As if I need any more attention than I’m already getting,” he says with a glance around us.
At first, I think he’s talking about the attention his past garners, but when I follow his gaze, I understand what he means.
Of the soldiers filling the room, at least half of them have their eyes fixed on me at any given moment. They aren’t even shy about it. Dozens of men nod in my direction as they talk to each other, and I even catch a few suggestive winks.
“It’s like they’ve never seen a woman before,” I mutter.
“They’re trying to figure out why you’re here.”
“Don’t they know?”
“Some of them know you’ve worked on the security system, but Logan will officially announce it tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because the whole point of family dinner is keeping everyone on the same page,” he explains.
“Except they aren’t on the same page. You’re keeping things from them.”
He shrugs. “Obviously, we can’t disclose everything, but being intentional about communication solves a lot of problems before they get out of control.”
“And that’ll get them to stop staring?”
Damon gives me a once-over. “Probably not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He doesn’t answer, but he does run his eyes up and down my body again. It’s more a pointed gesture than leering.
I look down and assess my outfit. It’s not the same level of professionalism that everyone here seems to maintain, but it’s perfectly appropriate for a meeting.
The jeans hug my hips and cling to my legs all the way down to my high-top sneakers. My top is a lacy black fabric that cuts off just above my jeans. The sweetheart neckline is flattering, but hardly revealing, and I’m wearing a beige cardigan over it anyway.
