Page 77 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

The doors slide open as we step back inside, the noise swallowing us whole again, the music, the laughter, the illusion of a perfect night carrying on like nothing just happened outside.

But I’m not looking at any of that.

I’m watching the way she slips back into her world. The way she moves like she’s already decided this ends here.

It’s almost impressive.

The way she moves through people, nodding at staff, adjusting something on a table as she passes, her voice simple when she answers a question thrown her way.

I catch her wrist before she disappears too far into it, firm enough to stop her mid-step. She turns, already braced, already ready to push me away again, but I don’t give her the space to do it.

I pull her in close. Too close, my body angling enough to shield the moment from the room without making a scene.

“I’m not done with you,” I tell her quietly, my voice low enough that it doesn’t travel.

Her breath catches for a second, something flickering in her eyes.

She breathes in, putting back her armor.

“You should be,” she replies, her tone clipped. “Whatever that was…”

“It wasn’t nothing.”

“I didn’t say it was,” she shoots back. “I just think it shouldn’t happen again.”

“It will.”

“That’s exactly the problem.” Her eyes flash.

There it is again. That fire.

She steps back slightly, creating just enough distance to breathe.

“You don’t hear no. You don’t stop. You don’t think about anything outside of what you want.”

“I am thinking about it,” I counter, holding her gaze. “I want to see you again.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Christine…”

“You’re too dangerous for my world,” she cuts in. “You walk into things and take over. You don’t ask, you don’t consider. I have a life that won't survive that kind of chaos.”

I study her, because she means it.

This is not an excuse. It's the truth.

“I won't let anyone hurt you,” I promise.

She shakes her head slightly, like that’s not the point.

But before she can say more a squeak cuts through.

“Mommy!”

I turn at the same time she does, in time to see a small figure darting toward her, little feet moving too fast, too eager, arms already reaching.

Christine’s entire body pulls taut.