Page 17 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

“Christine.” He closes the distance quickly, like there’s no space between us worth keeping.

His hand comes up, warm against my jaw, tilting my face toward his before I can decide what to do with the annoyance still sitting in my chest.

And then he kisses me, his mouth on mine, soft in a way that feels rehearsed like he knows exactly how to kiss me into forgetting why I was upset in the first place.

For a second, I let myself fall into it. Muscle memory. Habit. The shape of him fitting against me like it always has.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his thumb brushing my cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and this time the words come before the charm. “I’ve handled this trip badly.”

Badly.

I almost laugh, but it catches somewhere in my throat.

“But, I disappeared to fix something quickly,” he continues, softer now, like he’s letting me into something private. “For us.”

For us.

He says it like it means something solid. Like it hasn’t been slipping through my fingers all day.

“I didn’t want to mess tonight up more than I already did.” His hand slides down, his fingers threading through mine.

He looks at me like I’m the only thing in this room that’s of importance.

And God help me, part of me wants to believe him.

“Come with me.” He pulls. “Let me make it up to you.”

I hesitate briefly, but I nod.

He leads, his hand steady in mine, like he’s not the one who let go first.

The suite is not ours.

That’s the first thing I notice.

The door opens to something ethereal. The lighting is low, casting everything in a kind of golden hush. There’s champagne already waiting, sweating lightly in a silver bucket. Strawberries arranged like they’ve been placed with care, not just set down.

It’s… thoughtful.

I step inside slowly, my heels sinking slightly into the plush carpet, taking it in piece by piece.

“You did this?”

I turn to him, searching his face.

Daniel leans against the door after closing it, watching me take it all in, as if this is the reaction he wanted.

“I told you I’d fix it.” He shrugs, like it’s simple. Like whatever he broke tonight can be reset with a gesture and a room upgrade.

But there’s something in his tone that doesn’t match the ease of his shoulders. Something tucked underneath. It flickers in his eyes too, not just an apology for disappearing, but for something he’s choosing not to say out loud.

I see it.

And I don’t want it.

Because with Daniel, apologies come layered, dressed up, hiding the real offense somewhere beneath what he’s willing to admit.