Page 101 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

Chapter Seventeen

Christine

I’m breathing like I ran here, like something chased me into this moment and hasn’t let go yet.

My chest rises too fast, my lungs struggling even though nothing is moving anymore.

He hasn’t let go of me, his hands are still on my face, still holding me there like he’s making sure I don’t take it back.

I wait for a reaction, a question, anger, or relief.

Anything.

This is the moment I’ve replayed too many times to count.

I’ve had different versions of it. Better ones. Worse ones.

In some, he walks away.

In others, he demands everything.

In none of them does he stand there like this.

Silent, looking at me like he’s trying to see past what I’ve said into something deeper, something that doesn’t change depending on what I choose to admit.

It feels different.

Real in a way I didn’t prepare for.

“Say something,” I whisper, because the quiet is biting in now.

His gaze doesn’t shift or soften. Doesn’t harden either. It just stays on me, locked, like he’s processing something.

“Fuck.” He lets go abruptly, his hands dropping from my face as if the contact burned him.

He turns away before I can respond, before I can read anything else in his expression, his back to me as he takes a step toward the door.

Then another.

He’s done. He’s walking out of this the same way he walked into everything else, on his terms.

Something in me snaps.

“Robert…” I move after him, closing the space before just as he steps out of the door, my hand catching the back of his jacket, fingers curling into the fabric, pulling just enough to stop him.

He halts.

“Don’t,” I bite out, my voice lower now but still bristling. “Don’t do that.”

He doesn’t turn immediately, but he stays still. Planted in place.

I close the door behind me.

“I just told you the truth,” I continue, my fingers clenching around his jacket. “Don’t you want…”

He turns quickly, and my grip slips. Whatever I was about to say stops.

“What do you want me to say?” He asks, his voice slicing like a chainsaw through wood. “That I’m grateful you decided to tell me now?”