Page 186 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Robert

I head for the inner quarter at Rendezvous, one of my adult clubs.

The main club is loud upstairs with bass shaking through the walls hard enough to rattle the glass shelves behind the bar as I step through the private entrance at the back, Enzo beside me, and four men falling in behind us.

The hallway narrows the deeper we go, luxury peeling away inch by inch until velvet and gold become concrete, steel doors, dim lighting, and the metallic smell of stale blood in recycled air.

We reach the underground quarter, and my body reminds me of how exhausted I already am, in the way only long days and longer anger can produce.

I haven’t slept properly in weeks.

Every time I close my eyes, I see Christine screaming at me in that hospital room and Blue lying unconscious.

“Boss.” The guard outside the interrogation room straightens immediately. “He’s talking.”

“Is he saying anything useful?” Enzo asks.

“No.” The guard shakes his head.

He pushes the door open and we step inside the room.

The smell of blood, sweat, and fear slams into my nostrils first.

Daniel is chained to the steel chair bolted into the center of the room, his head hanging forward, and his wrists restrained beside him. His face is barely recognizable beneath the bruising now.

His head jerks up, relief crashing across his face so fast it almost irritates me.

“Robert.” His voice cracks instantly. “Robert, please.”

Enzo moves toward the wall calmly, pouring himself a drink from the tray left untouched in the corner like this is business as usual.

Because it is.

Daniel starts panicking harder when I keep walking toward him.

“I swear to God, I didn’t do this.” His chest heaves violently. “I texted and made mild threats, yes, okay? I wanted attention but I didn’t touch her. I didn’t touch the child.”

“My child, Daniel.” I shrug off my suit jacket slowly and hand it to one of the guards.

“I didn’t touch them… please, believe me.” Daniel starts crying.

“Hmm.” Enzo hums disbelievingly in the corner.

“I love her,” he blurts desperately. “Why would I hurt her?”

That makes me pause but it’s not because I believe him. But because men usually lie differently when they’re guilty.

Guilty men protect themselves first, but Daniel… He sounds offended by the idea.

I walk toward the steel table nearby instead, my gaze drifting over the arranged tools resting on top: knives, pliers, a blowtorch, and medical clamps.

I pick up a pair of industrial shears.

Daniel sees it and immediately starts shaking his head hard enough to rattle the chair.

“No no no, Robert please.” Panic drenches his every word now. “Please listen to me.”