Page 91 of Disobedient Pawn

“I sent you pictures,” my father said, touching my shoulders.

I would’ve pushed his hands away, but I was pretty sure I was the only reason he was upright. I couldn’t do that to him, even if he chose to embarrass me.

“I sent pictures…that’s all you have to say? I’ve never seen the new house. That means I don’t know where you live. I haven’t been able to arrange my room. Does none of this strike you as strange?” His forehead creased as he thought way harder than he should have for the simple question. “Did mum’s things arrive? Did my stuff? Do you even know? Do you even care, or are you so busy with whatever Mr. Collier has you doing that you don’t have time to care anymore?” I slowly backed away from his touch, disgusted to be called his daughter. “What am I saying? You already proved you’re too busy to be a father,” I whispered harshly.

“Hush now, it’s Thanksgiving. We can talk about that later. We’re here to give thanks and eat a grand feast,” he said and waved his arm like he was showing off the table and almost hit me.

“I already had my Thanksgiving when mum was alive,” I said. “This is not my Thanksgiving and I have nothing to be thankful for.” I kept my voice low, but could feel the guys staring. They were so still it was like they’d been turned into statues.

“Well, this year you get two,” my father said happily and once more missing the point of the jab. I felt like I’d been stabbed in the stomach.

“Come, Mr. Collier has been excited to have you join us.”

“I bet he is,” I mumbled under my breath as my eyes flicked toward the man at the end of the table.

He watched us, continuing a conversation with another person pretending he wasn’t fully invested in what was said. That man made my skin crawl. There was something evil in his eyes that I couldn’t explain without sounding crazy.

“Come say hi, be polite,” my father said.

I really didn’t want to, but my mum had brought me up with manners, and you didn’t walk into someone’s house and ignore them. That was rude, and I wouldn’t tarnish her memory.

Head held high, I walked down to the far end of the ridiculously large dining area, and Lawrence smiled as he stood. If he thought I was going to hug him, he had another thing coming. Instead, he held out his hand like last time. I didn’t know who this man was or what crime he was involved with, but he fit the profile of every mob boss in my mind.

Reluctantly, I placed my hand in his as he lifted it to his mouth to kiss. I tugged on my hand as soon as his lips left my skin, but he held tight and turned my hand over to look at my finger.

“It healed nicely, not even a scar,” Lawrence said, his voice soft, and a shiver raced down my spine.

“It was a small prick. They don’t tend to leave a lasting impression.”

I tugged on my hand, and this time, he let go. I knew where Nash got that look from now. It was more intimidating on his father.

A pretty brunette sitting two chairs down snickered and then covered it up by coughing. The man next to her, whom I assumed was her husband, patted her back.

My father cleared his throat when Mr. Collier continued to stare at me like we were playing a game of chicken.

“Let me introduce you to everyone.” My father held out his hand to the couple closest to us. “This is Bridget and Emmet Hicks and their eldest daughter Nora.” I nodded in greeting. “Beside Nora is Owen McCoy and his eldest son Devin.”

Not sure why, but I instantly disliked Owen and Devin. They didn’t share the same comedic energy or warmth that Myles had. Jerk or not, he wasn’t cold like these two, who reminded me of Lawrence.

“Across the table, you have Ella and Ethan O’Brien. You already know all the boys from school, but the young lady at the end is Sienna Hicks, and the youngest at the table is Filip McCoy,” my father said, each person raising their hand in greeting.

“My name is Lip,” Myles’s little brother said, his lower lip pushed out in a pout, making me smile.

“Nice to meet all of you,” I said, walking the plank back to my end of the table.

It was too quiet, and I hated the click of my shoes on the fancy floor as all the guys continued to stare at me. There was only one spot left between Nash and Myles, and they stood and pulled my chair out together. I looked from one to the other.

“Are you two okay?”

“Just trying to be gentlemanly, my father insists that we treat our guests well,” Nash said, and if I hadn’t been standing so close, I would’ve missed the subtle eye roll.

Stepping around Myles to sit, the adults began talking, and the room was once more filled with noise. They adjusted my chair, and I waited until they sat down to speak.

“I really hope the two of you don’t do this all night. It’ll get weird quick.”

“No promises, Snowflake,” Myles whispered.

Ignoring him, I smiled at the two youngest across the table.