If Only (GxG)

Chapter 19 Closer

A/N
🎶 Beast Of Burden by The Rolling Stones🎶

『 °*• ❀ •*°』
Blake's POV

The clinking of cutlery and the low hum of expensive conversation grated against my nerves as I sat stiffly at the long dining table in Bella Italia, the restaurant my brother had booked out for the evening.

Every detail of the place was pristine—gleaming glasses, crisp white tablecloths, waiters floating seamlessly between tables with the kind of trained grace that came with serving the obscenely wealthy.

The wine was expensive, the food was undoubtedly excellent, but I could barely taste it.

Because I did not want to be here.

I should have known better than to answer my brother's call the other night.

He had been drunk—insistent, demanding, slurring something about obligations and family loyalty in that clipped, superior way he always did when he felt entitled to my time.

Even now, he sat across from me, looking irritatingly self-satisfied, sipping at his wine like a smug bastard who knew he had won.

"This isn't so bad, is it?" he mused, raising a brow at me.

I exhaled slowly through my nose, gripping my fork tighter.

No, Luca, being waterboarded would be preferable.

"I didn't realise you were in charge of my schedule now," I murmured instead, keeping my voice level.

Luca scoffed, setting his glass down. "Oh, don't be dramatic, Blake. It's just a meal. Father thought it would be nice if we had a proper gathering, but of course, you have to make everything difficult."

I clenched my jaw. Father thought it would be nice. Father requested. It was always about him, wasn't it?

I wasn't a fool—I knew what this was. It wasn't about family bonding.

It was about the usual display of wealth, the subtle games of status and power, the perfectly staged performance of being one of the Bradleys.

I hated it.

I hated being here, with people who had never once truly seen me.

I hated the very idea of my father thinking he still had a say in what I did with my life.

I needed to get out of here before I said something I couldn't take back.

Luca was watching me carefully now, no doubt waiting for me to react, to bite back like I usually did. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

I inhaled slowly, steadying my composure. I needed out of here, but I didn't have my car, and if I got up to leave now, my dear brother would find some insufferable way to stop me—his smug words, his condescending smirk, or worse, the simple reminder that I was expected to sit through this charade like a good little Bradley.

I refused.

Think, Blake.

And then—an idea struck me.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers flying over the screen before I could second-guess myself.

Blake: If you're not busy, can you come get me please? It's not far from your flat. If I stay here much longer, I honestly think I will get locked up for murdering an idiot.

A few minutes passed, the conversation at the table continuing around me in dull, droning murmurs, but I barely heard a word of it.

Then—