“He’s not that dumb. Sure, he comes from money, but he’s not an idiot. Midnight Delight Café is actually owned by his uncle. He said he could get us forty percent off, plus free drinks, so of course we went with Midnight Delight.”
At the mention of such a big discount, Sophia practically started drooling. “Take my empty stomach—I’m going to eat my heart out!”
She shot a critical look at Amelia’s bare, makeup-free face and grumbled, “Girl, you look way too plain. You’re going to a class reunion, not a funeral. At least spruce yourself up a little! Otherwise, they’ll just think you’ve had a rough couple of years.”
Class reunions were like that; no matter how ordinary your daily life, you had to put your best foot forward when seeing old classmates.
Under Sophia’s watchful eye and relentless coaching, Amelia dabbed on a little tinted moisturizer, shaped her brows, and added a touch of lipstick. The effect was like misting a fresh rose with morning dew—she looked even more radiant and striking.
The private party room was on the fifth floor of Midnight Delight Café.
By the time Amelia arrived, plenty of classmates had already gathered. She made the rounds, exchanged greetings, and found herself an empty seat.
She hadn’t been sitting long, idly scrolling through her phone, when she felt an unusual gaze settle on her. She glanced up, scanning the room, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Probably just her imagination.
Once everyone arrived, dinner officially began.
Of course, a group of old friends couldn’t get together without drinks. As everyone raised their glasses, Amelia picked up her glass of juice.
Someone caught sight of it and called out, “Hey, Amelia, everyone else is drinking—why are you sticking with juice?”
Before Amelia could explain her alcohol allergy, Samuel Wilson, two seats down, clinked his glass against the other person’s. “Maybe she can’t drink tonight. I’ll take her share.”
The table erupted in laughter and teasing.
Amelia frowned—who asked for his help?
Samuel didn’t wait for a response. He tipped his head back and downed two glasses in quick succession, leaving Amelia no chance to say a word.
Amelia nodded a brief greeting and turned to leave, but Samuel stepped in front of her, blocking the way.
“Amelia.”
She looked up and caught that predatory look in his eyes—the same one she’d felt lingering on her during dinner.
She caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath and wrinkled her nose. “You’re drunk.”
She tried to move left, he blocked her. She tried to go right, he blocked her again.
Samuel’s gaze dropped to her pale face and slightly parted lips. He leaned in, his words slurred and stinking of booze.
“That’s exactly why I want to fuck you right now.”
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