Page 43 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

His interest piques.

Sullivan is here to secure the space for an elite leadership conference he hosts annually, the kind that gathers high-level executives, investors, and decision-makers who expect privacy and influence under one roof.

Atelia steps in seamlessly.

“If you’ll follow us,” she adds, her tone easy, “We’ll walk you through the conference spaces. I think you’ll find they align very closely with what you described.”

We move.

Inside, the temperature shifts slightly, growing cooler, and the lighting adjusts as we step into the main corridor.

The conference hall opens up ahead, a space that can be molded into whatever the client needs without losing its foundation.

“What’s your maximum capacity here?” He asks, already calculating.

“Three hundred seated comfortably,” I answer. “Four hundred if you’re willing to compromise on spacing. I don’t recommend it.”

He nods, appreciating the restraint more than the number.

“The acoustics?”

“Engineered to carry without echo. You won’t lose clarity, even at full capacity.”

He steps further in, his attention narrowing, testing the space with his presence alone.

“We’ve also designed the layout to support layered experiences.” Atelia fills the silence where needed. “Main sessions here, with breakout rooms just adjacent. No congestion, no overlap. Movement feels natural.”

He glances at her, interested.

She holds it just long enough, then steps back, letting me take over again.

We move through the adjoining rooms next.

He lingers in one, runs a hand over the table, looks at the seating, imagining.

We don’t interrupt, letting him build it in his head.

By the time we exit into the main restaurant, the deal is already leaning and all that’s left is confirmation.

The motion-sensitive doors slide open seamlessly, and we step in.

“The restaurant,” Atelia begins, her voice smooth, already slipping into presentation mode, but the words barely register.

My eyes sweep the space once and then they land… On Christine. Like metal to magnet.

She’s seated across from Daniel and his fiancée.

Everything slows.

It’s been four years.

Four years of dead ends, of names that went nowhere, of places that almost led somewhere but didn’t. Four years of not finding her.

And now, she’s here. Of all the places I’d imagined I'd see her again.

A disbelieving breath leaves me, cutting through the control I don’t usually lose.

Fuck.