An Unwanted Reunion

Nora’s POV

I stared at Blake across the dinner table, my grip tightening on the napkin cloth in my lap.

He hadn't changed at all. The messy dark hair, and that same mocking look in his eyes—it was the exact same look he used to give me in the high school hallways whenever he found a new way to ruin my day.

"I didn’t know you two knew each other," Mr. Devonte said, looking up from his plate.

"We went to the same high school," I answered quickly. "We weren’t close," I added, hoping that a simple answer would stop any further questions about Blake.

"Not close?" Blake repeated with a small laugh, swirling the wine in his glass. "Nora, don’t be so modest. You used to pay a lot of attention to me back then. I remember you watching me every day during lunch."

I froze. Heat rushed to my face, and I quickly looked down at my plate, trying to hide my reaction. Of all the embarrassing things he could have brought up, he just had to mention my stupid teenage crush right in front of his entire family.

"I was usually studying, Blake," I replied, forcing myself to look straight into his eyes without flinching. "Some of us actually cared about our grades."

Across from me, Blake’s smirk widened. He was thoroughly enjoying this. He had always loved getting under my skin, and time hadn't changed that one bit.

"That’s enough, Blake," Michael interrupted, his tone completely flat and dry. He sounded annoyed by the distraction, not protective or jealous, "Stop talking about high school and eat your food."

"Just making conversation, brother," Blake said, resting his elbows on the table. "I’m just surprised, that’s all." He looked back at me, that familiar smirk returning to his lips. "Of all people, I never thought I’d see you sitting at my family’s table."

"She is my fiancée, not your entertainment," Michael said coldly, wiping his mouth with a napkin cloth. "This marriage is a private family matter. I suggest you remember that."

Grandma Devonte cleared her throat loudly, cutting off the rising tension, "Blake, leave the poor girl alone. At least she has decent manners, unlike some of the wild girls you bring home."

Blake just shrugged, picking up his glass again. "Whatever you say, Grandma."

For the rest of the meal, I barely touched my food. Every time I looked up, Blake was watching me. He barely spoke to his father or Michael, but I couldn't relax for a single second with him sitting directly across from me.

When dinner finally ended, Michael stood up immediately. "I have an urgent conference call with our finance team. Nora, the driver will take you home."

Michael gave his father a brief nod, patted my shoulder once in a cold, distant way, and walked out of the room. I let out a slow breath. I was relieved he was leaving, but the thought of finding my way around this massive house alone made me uneasy.

"I'll show her out," Blake offered, standing up before anyone else could speak.

"No need, Blake. The butler can—" I started, but Blake was already walking toward the hall, clearly expecting me to follow him.

"Come on, Nora," he said over his shoulder, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Don’t keep the driver waiting."

I swallowed my frustration, said a polite goodbye to Mr. Devonte and Grandma Devonte, and followed Blake into the hallway.

The moment we stepped away from the main living area, the house grew quite. I kept a safe distance behind him, listening to the quiet sound of our footsteps echoing against the marble floors.

"You don't have to walk me, Blake," I said firmly. "I know the way."

Blake suddenly stopped and turned around. I almost walked straight into his chest before pulling back just in time. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Up close, he was so much taller than me, and I caught the faint scent of his expensive cologne mixed with wine.

"So," Blake said, staring at me. "You’re really going through with this? Marrying Michael?"

"It’s none of your business," I said.

"He doesn’t care about you, Nora," Blake said, taking a step closer. "He didn’t even look at you once during dinner. You’re just a contract to him."

"And what am I to you, Blake?" I asked, my hands clenching into tight fists at my sides. "Another opportunity to mess with your brother? Or do you think I don't know what you've been doing?"

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. He reached out and lightly touched my sleeve. The small gesture sent an unwanted shiver through me.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning closer until his lips were near my ear. “Or I simply just missed our little game.”