Page 188 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

I know he’s capable of harassing Christine, manipulating her. Maybe even scare her. But almost killing her and Blue?

The realization seeps coldly into my bones.

He’s the wrong man for the job.

I release a slow breath through my nose and step back, relieved I didn’t have to kill my own blood.

“Robert?” Daniel notices the shift immediately. “You believe me?” Hope flickers stupidly across his ruined face.

“No,” I answer honestly. “But I believe you’re too pathetic to pull this off.”

His face crumples.

I turn away from him entirely, rolling my sleeves back down slowly.

“Keep him here,” I tell the guards as I retrieve my jacket. “Alive.”

“No… no…” Daniel starts crying harder. “Robert…”

I don’t look back as I walk out.

Now, my problem is infinitely worse because whoever is after Christine isn’t emotional or immature.

When I get home, the estate is sucked of its vibrancy.

The long driveway glows beneath soft ground lights while security rotates shifts by the gates.

But my head is still underground.

If it’s not Daniel… then who?

The thought loops viciously as I step out of the car.

Because Daniel made sense. Messy sense, but sense regardless.

Enzo says something beside me about updating the surveillance team tomorrow morning, but I barely hear him.

My mind is already upstairs with Christine and Blue. With the possibility that someone got close enough to almost take them from me before I had the chance to experience them.

I enter the house.

Most of the lights are dimmed now, the estate asleep except for the guards stationed through the halls. A few nod respectfully as I pass.

I reach Christine’s door and push it open to enter the dim room.

Christine is asleep beneath the blankets, curled slightly onto her side, and the sight of her stills something violent inside me instantly.

My eyes drag over her slowly to the loose silk sleep dress, the soft rise and fall of her breathing, and the faint crease between her brows even in sleep, like some part of her still doesn’t rest anymore.

I stand there longer than necessary watching her. Making sure she’s breathing.

I loosen my tie slowly as I move deeper into the room. Then my jacket comes off. My gun follows after that, set carefully onto the dresser beside my watch.

I head toward the floor-to-ceiling window, exhaustion clawing at the back of my neck now. My shirt is halfway unbuttoned when the bed rustles softly behind me.

I glance up through the mirror to see Christine shift sleepily, blinking against the dim light.

For a second, she just watches me silently. Then she pushes herself upright slowly.