The restaurant was all polished woods, velvet chairs, and had the kind of silence that said important people ate here. In one word, it had all the warmth of a graveyard. And seated at the head of the table like a king in his den was President Roy.
Except there was one person Jameson hadn't mentioned would be present.
Natalie froze, the breath knocked from her lungs like a sucker punch at the sight of her.
Kate.
Her stepmother.
Kate was seated beside her father and looked up the second she sensed her arrival.
"Oh, look who finally showed up," Kate said, smiling far too brightly as she peered over the rim of her glass.
But Natalie didn't move, she stood there like a deer caught in headlights.
"What are you standing there for? That's President Roy. Greet him," Jameson nudged her with an elbow, snapping her out of it.
President Roy didn't look like a president, at least not in the stiff, boring way most imagined. He was in his early fifties, but age sat lightly on him.
