I grab a glass a whiskey from a passing tray as I walk toward my father.
He’s busy talking to acquaintances about business, but he already knows that I’m coming toward him.
He turns his head just in time to see me stop in front of him, and then the fire in his eyes is replaced by something lighter. Fake, of course.
“Hello, son,” he says firmly, forcing a smile on his face as he turns to his acquaintance. “This is Lorde Willis. Willis, this is my son, Roman.”
I force a smile of my own as I turn to face Willis—a short, stocky man with a receding hairline. He looks like he’s over the moon as he grins at me, stretching out a hand.
“Roman Sterling, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” he says in his heavy voice. “It’s not often I see you at events, let alone get a moment of your time.”
