Page 62 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

I'm hoping it stays that way for the rest of the night.

When the couple finishes their first dance, the room resolves into that soft, indulgent rhythm weddings always lean into once the formalities loosen their grip.

Laughter comes easier and glasses stay full longer. The music slips into something warmer, something that invites movement without demanding it.

I let the moment pass through me.

I drift toward one of the quieter ends of the reception, closer to the wall where the light dips slightly lower, where conversations don’t carry as loudly and people don’t linger unless they mean to.

A server passes and I take a glass without thinking too much about it, the stem cool against my fingers as I bring it to my lips, letting the first sip of champagne sparkle on my tongue longer than necessary.

I need a second. Just enough to breathe.

And I do, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

I don’t hear him approach but I feel him.

“Still hiding in corners?” Daniel’s voice slides in behind me, amused, like we’re sharing something we shouldn’t be.

I don’t turn immediately.

I take another sip first, then I lower the glass and face him.

Up close, he looks… curated. A little too curated.

His suit is a deep ivory, tailored to his frame, the kind of choice meant to stand out without looking like it’s trying. Gold accents thread subtly through the lapel. His shirt is crisp, open just enough at the collar.

But it doesn't suit him.

There’s something loose in the way he carries it, something careless underneath the polish that no tailoring can fix.

His eyes drag over me again.

“You clean up well,” he adds, like I should take it as something worth holding onto.

“I’m working,” I reply, my tone flat, giving him nothing to lean into. “It's a wedding. Your wedding.”

His mouth curves.

“Yeah,” he nods, stepping closer, invading my space. “And you've done well. I mean, you always liked being in charge. Telling people where to stand, what to do…”

His gaze dips to my cleavage, then comes back up.

“…how to behave.”

I don’t react outwardly but my fingers press harder around the glass from irritation working its way up my throat.

“Daniel,” I start, slicing through whatever direction he thinks this is going. “Don’t.”

He chuckles.

“You’re still like this,” he muses, like he finds it entertaining. “All high and mighty.” He scoffs. “But didn’t he fuck you that night in the hotel without force?”

His words hit like something rotten thrown into clean air.

My stomach flips, disgust rising so fast it almost chokes me. I’ve always known what Daniel is capable of being careless, selfish, and cruel when it suits him.

I just didn’t think he’d sink this low.