Page 132 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

“No…” I start, turning quickly.

But it’s too late because she’s already halfway there.

“Stop…” I bark, going after her.

Blue freezes mid-step, one hand already reaching for the door handle, her body caught between curiosity and obedience.

I close the distance quickly, stepping in front of her before she can touch anything.

“What did I say about opening the door?” I ask, lowering my voice, not harsh, but firm enough.

“Sorry, Mommy.” She frowns immediately, the kind that folds her whole face.

“Tell me what I said, not apologize.” I scold softly.

“You said I shouldn’t open doors,” she mutters.

“At your age,” I add.

“At my age,” she repeats, softer this time.

I hold her gaze for a second longer, just to make sure she gets it.

“Go be with Aunty Aisha.” I tilt my head toward the kitchen.

She huffs under her breath, but she turns anyway, dragging her feet just enough to show she’s not happy about it before disappearing back toward Aisha.

I wait until she’s fully out of reach before I turn and pull the door open.

As expected, it’s Robert.

The first thing I notice is that he looks… different. He looks stripped down.

Simpler.

He’s waering a plain T-shirt with the sleeves hugging his arms in a way that feels almost unfair, paired with blue jeans that sit low on his hips like he didn’t overthink any of it.

Dangerously casual.

My eyes drop to the takeout bags in his hand and I almost laugh. Because of course he didn’t come empty-handed.

From the faint smell of food wafting in the air, I can tell it’s from his world.

“Hi, Bon.” His voice is tired, but still holds its allure.

Instead of moving aside, I step out, pulling the door behind me until it closes.

“Robert.” I fold my arms, putting distance between us. “What are you doing here?” I ask, my firm voice not betraying the way my pulse has picked up.

“I want to talk.” He shrugs.

“Now you want to talk?”

“Are you trying to get me hard with the attitude?” His eyes drag over my body.

And suddenly, my sleep shorts and top feel like lingerie under the weight of that gaze, the way his eyes darken as he takes his time.

“Eyes up.”