“Something’s off.”
Yemi’s voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet hum of the room. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze locked onto Lola, who sat across from him at the long dining table. The soft glow of the chandelier above them cast shadows on the polished wood, but Yemi wasn’t looking at the table—he was watching her. Watching the way her fingers trembled slightly when she lifted her wine glass, the way her shoulders were just a little too tense, the way she barely met his eyes.
Lola forced a small smile, one he knew was fake. “You’re imagining things.”
Yemi narrowed his eyes. “Am I?”
She sipped her wine, carefully, deliberately, as if that single action could erase the heavy silence between them.
He let the quiet stretch, waiting to see if she would fill it. She did
