Page 65 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

“That’s enough.” I force composure back into place instantly, and I step out of his hold.

His expression tilts into something like annoyance.

And then he laughs so loud.

“Damn,” he shakes his head, turning slightly so the moment spreads outward instead of staying contained. “You’re still a terrible dancer.”

A couple of people glance over.

I hold still.

He continues laughing.

“Can’t wait for all that running around to start doing something, though,” he adds, his eyes flicking over me in a way that makes my stomach turn. “Gotta stay in shape somehow, right?”

His words hit a nerve. I open my mouth to respond when something shifts.

A shadow falls over me, snipping through the light just enough to pull me out of it, and before I even turn, before I even see him, my nose catches his scent.

It slashes through everything else in the air, warm amber first, layered with something darker, almost smoky, and then that faint trace of spice underneath that lingers just long enough to stay with you.

Distinct. Unmistakable.

My breath stalls because I know it.

I’ve always known it.

I don’t need to turn.

I know him.

“Interesting observation.” Robert’s voice carries over my shoulder, deep, smooth in a way that doesn’t need volume to be heard.

I turn.

And there he is in black. Not just any black, his kind. He's in a tailored charcoal suit that's broken only by the gleam of gold at the cuffs and along the lapel, catching the light in a way that doesn’t ask for attention but takes it anyway. The shirt beneath is dark, open at the collar.

“You came.” Daniel turns, a smile forming like he thinks this is still his moment, like he hasn’t already lost it.

Robert doesn’t look at him immediately. His gaze passes over me first. Assessing.

Then he shifts it to Daniel.

“If you’re going to critique someone.” Robert continues, “You should at least make sure you’re not the weakest performer in the room.”

Daniel’s smile falters, shifting on his feet because people are leaning in.

Robert continues, adjusting his cuff as if the moment doesn’t require more than this.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he adds, almost casually. “Go dance with your wife.”

Daniel holds his gaze for a second longer than he should, then he laughs.

“Of course,” he nods, smoothing his jacket like he’s choosing grace instead of being handed it. “You always know best.”

He dips his head slightly in mock respect.

“Wouldn’t want to embarrass the family, especially not in front of you.” His tone is lighter, but edged now. “Uncle.”