Page 27 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle
She shoves him hard.
“What did you do?” Her voice cracks now, anger breaking through. “What did you do?”
He stumbles back a step, caught between guilt and irritation, like he didn’t expect her to react this way. Like he thought he could talk his way around it.
“Christine…”
“What did you do?” She repeats, louder this time, her hands coming up again, hitting his chest, his arm, anything she can reach. “Answer me!”
“It’s not what you think…”
Her hand connects with his face, the sound cutting through the room.
“Don’t you dare,” she snaps, her whole body shaking now. “Don’t you stand there and lie to me again.”
He exhales, grinding his teeth, something defensive creeping into his expression.
“I had no choice.”
She gives a disbelieving laugh.
“No choice?” She hits him again, harder. “You always have a choice, Daniel.”
“You don’t get it…”
“Then make me understand.” She yells, pushing him again. “Explain how I suddenly became something you can owe to someone.”
His eyes flick toward me for a second and something shifts in him.
“Oh, stop it.” He scoffs. “I saw you at the bar.”
She stills.
“I saw the way you were looking at him. The way you were talking.” His voice rises, defensive turning into accusation. “So don’t stand there and act like this doesn't make you aroused.”
Her brows pull together, disbelief flooding in.
“I wasn't…”
“Flirting?” He cuts in, almost laughing now. “You were practically begging for his attention, Christine.”
Whatever was holding her back snaps.
She goes at him again, no hesitation now, her fists landing harder, faster, fueled by something deeper than anger.
“You disgusting…” she screams. “You jerk… slimy jerk!”
He tries to grab her wrists, to stop her, but she fights through it, hitting him again, and again.
I move then, my hand coming around her, catching her mid-swing, pulling her back before the next hit lands.
She struggles instantly, twisting, trying to break free, but I hold her there, unyielding.
“Let me go.” She snaps, her breath uneven, still trying to lunge forward.
I don’t.
I keep her there, just long enough for the fight to lose its aim, for the distance to register.
