Page 79 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

Chapter Thirteen

Christine

I don’t remember walking into my room.

One minute I’m in that hall, with the lights too bright, voices too loud, and my name being called from somewhere around me.

Next, I’m here, in my bedroom, with the door shut. And somehow it still feels like I didn’t make it far enough.

My hands are shaking violently so much so that I have to steady them against the edge of the dresser before I reach for anything.

My mind is worse. It won’t stop.

It keeps circling back.

Not to the kiss. Not even the sex outside. But to the way he looked at Blue.

That stillness. That recognition.

Robert is not a man who misses things. He doesn’t guess. He calculates, connects, and concludes.

And I saw it all happen in real time.

I suck in a deep breath, my stomach folding as something cold drops beneath my ribs. I force myself to move, to dosomething normal, something routine, something that makes it feel like my life is still mine.

I start with my earrings, unclasping them slowly, placing them down with more care than necessary. Then the bracelet. The heels come off next, my toes flexing slightly against the floor as relief crashes in.

I move to the mirror and I let out another slow breath before reaching for the cotton pads.

I work it into my skin in small, practiced motions, watching myself in the mirror like I’m studying a stranger. Foundation lifts, powder fades, the version of me I presented to the world dissolves layer by layer.

But it’s not enough. Because what’s underneath is the problem. And maybe that’s why I’m doing it, because thinking is dangerous right now.

Thinking leads me back to him. To that look. To the way his gaze moved from me to her and didn’t come back the same.

My fingers pause briefly over the jar of clay mask before I open it. I scoop a small amount, spreading it over my skin, cool and smooth, sealing everything in.

I stare at myself again, and for the longest second, I wish this were enough. That I could leave it on and stay like this.Hidden and unreachable.

A soft knock breaks through the thought. Then the door opens before I can respond.

Aisha steps in with a bag of salted potato chips in her hand, already half-open. She closes the door behind her with her foot and leans against it, her eyes landing on me immediately.

“The woman of the moment.” She walks in slowly, the faint sound of the chips crinkling as she stops a few feet away from me.

Her gaze doesn’t waver even once as she takes me in fully, peeling through the layers to the tension I haven’t managed to hide as well as I thought.

“Start talking.” She exhales lightly.

I don’t answer immediately, because I’m whisking up the best answer in my head. I… I could lie. I could try to deflect or even laugh it off, and tell her she’s reading too much into a long night after too many glasses of champagne.

It would be easy.

But Aisha doesn’t make it easy. She watches me like she already knows. Like she’s just waiting for me to catch up to it.

“Blue…” She starts, not giving me space to interrupt her. “And that man…” Her eyes narrow slightly. “The resemblance is not normal, Christine.”

My throat shrinks as I gulp dry air.