She places me at her left and gestures for Nicholas to sit on my other side. Koen takes the seat on Veronica’s right. The servers flood in then, filling glasses with wine and water. When one offers me red wine, I shake my head. “Just water, please.”
The server moves on, but my hand lingers near my empty glass, fingertips brushing the cool surface. And it hits me.
I said no because I didn’t want to drink.
Not because of Koen. Not because of his compulsion or the quiet command that’s been lodged in my mind since the moment he coerced me. But because I truly didn’t want to.
I glance at the wine in Veronica’s glass, but there’s no pull, no ache, no whisper of craving urging me toward it. The absence of that need feels foreign. The pull has been quieter over the last few days, fading into the background as the chaos and noise of my life took center stage. But is it a distraction?Would it feel different if it were whiskey?
Whiskey was always a thief of reason, a searing comfort that dragged me under fast. But this is wine. Rosalee’s favorite. Drinking it now would tether me back to her laugh, her warmth, the image of her cradling a glass, smiling like she didn’t carry the weight of the world. It would make tonight heavier, harder.
So I choose water.
“Are you a vegetarian, dear?” Veronica asks with a gentle smile that feels more like a test than a casual question.
“No,” I reply. “I’m not.”
“Good.” Her smile widens a fraction before she glances toward the nearest server. “Filet mignon, lobster tail, and truffle mashed potatoes.”
“That sounds delicious, Veronica.” Levi smiles smoothly, his charm dialed up once more. “Thank you.”
“Of course, darling.” She tilts her head, her expression almost warm. “Only the best for our first family reunion in years.”
Koen tenses in my peripheral vision. It’s the smallest twitch of his shoulders, but I feel it like a ripple in the air.
Veronica notices nothing orpretendsnot to. “I’d enjoy us getting back together more often like this.” She picks up her glass of wine but doesn’t drink as she looks at Levi and Koen. “I know it’s been over a decade since we were truly a family, but now… now with Oscar gone…” Her hand trembles as she sets the glass back down.
Levi bites his lip hard, his mask slipping enough to show the strain beneath it.
“I miss this.” Veronica seemingly composes herself enough to continue. “The gatherings we used to have.” Her voice dips, thick with what might be genuine emotion—or an act so practiced that even Koen wouldn’t know the difference. “I still consider you and Levi somewhat of my stepchildren, Koen. You know how much I loved having you with us.”
Koen’s smile doesn’t falter, but the tension is radiating from him. When I glance at Nicholas, he’s suppressing a scoff, his lips twitching with barely contained derision.
I reach under the table, my fingers finding his knee. His body jolts slightly at the contact, and his eyes meet mine, the hardness in them softening, if only a little. I try to reassure him silently, hoping the gesture says everything I can’t. He exhales quietly as his hand covers mine where it rests on his knee.
I wish I could figure him out. Does he hate me? Is he just hurt? And what the hell am I supposed to do with all of this tension between us? But now’s not the time to dwell on it.
The servers return, carrying plates of food so elegant they look more like art than meals. Each plate is set with care. Veronica and I are served first, the others following. When I look down, the filet mignon glistens, perfectly cooked, surrounded by sides that smell divine. It’s the fanciest meal I’ve ever seen.
And it looks fucking delicious.
Ugh. Of course it does.
“Please, eat,” Veronica urges.
Ezra lifts his fork first, cutting into the steak and taking a bite. “This is excellent,” he says, nodding toward her.
“Thank you, Ezra.” Veronica smiles at him. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
I look up and over to Koen, who also takes a bite, before complimenting Veronica.
It would have been so easy for her to poison their food.
The thought has my stomach churning, and I push the food around the plate, my appetite evaporating. Nicholas’s hand settles on my knee, startling me out of my thoughts. I glance up, and he looks at me, then the food.
I’m overthinking this, and it shows.
I take a deep breath, force myself to cut a piece of steak, and lift it to my mouth.
