Page 12 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

“Come in,” I call out.

The door opens.

Enzo steps in, already scanning the room in that quick, efficient way of his. His gaze flicks to Atelia, then back to me, something like amusement tugging briefly at the corner of his mouth.

“Did I interrupt?” He asks, though he clearly doesn’t care.

“Atelia was just leaving,” I tell him.

“Huh?” She turns her head slightly toward me, her brow lifting. “Was I?”

Enzo lets out a chuckle, stepping further inside.

“Don’t let me chase you out. I can come back.” He teases.

“Funny,” she replies smoothly, rising now, unhurried, like the timing was always hers to decide.

She smooths a hand over her dress, then glances between the two of us.

“I’ll leave you boys to whatever this is.”

She pauses beside Enzo as she passes, close enough that it almost feels intentional.

“You look horrible in a leather jacket,” she adds lightly.

“Your taste is questionable, so…” Enzo shoots back, not missing a beat.

She lets out a soft scoff, already moving past him.

To anyone else, it would sound juvenile. Like they’re a decade younger than they are.

They’ve always been this way.

I used to think it would turn into something. That they’d eventually get tired of circling each other and settle into it. Marriage, maybe.

It never happened.

Enzo doesn’t settle. He collects.

Women, cities, marriages that start fast and end faster. Nine, last I counted. Across continents, like it’s a hobby he hasn’t outgrown.

Atelia deserves better than that kind of chaos.

And she knows it.

She doesn’t look back at me when she leaves.

Enzo’s expression shifts almost instantly, the ease draining into something more focused.

“Problem?” I ask.

“There’s a situation upstairs.” He steps closer, lowering his voice out of habit, not necessity. “Daniel has been on a losing streak.”

“And?”

“He can’t cover it.” Enzo exhales subtly.

That gets my attention.