Page 42 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

Chapter Seven

Robert

The restaurant is new.

It’s been open for one week, and is already moving with the expectation it was built for.

I take in the poolside again, the sound of water spilling over the stone edge of the cascading wall, blending into everything else that’s running exactly as it should.

The pool below mirrors the sky in broken fragments, disturbed only by the occasional ripple from the submerged jets. Light bends across the surface, shifting with every movement, every disturbance, but never losing its form.

Everything about this space is intentional. Built to impress without asking for it.

“This looks better than expected.” I throw over my shoulder at Atelia.

“I told you I could handle it.” Atelia leans slightly into me, her voice low enough to stay between us, her lips curving in amusement.

I trace the direction of her gaze to Sullivan, a high-profile client in a navy suit. He’s standing at the edge of the pool, hissecurity detail fanning out just enough to look casual while still marking territory.

He’s just come off inspecting one of the adjoining properties, his gaze still scanning like he’s cataloging value in real time.

Late sixties, maybe early seventies, his body still holding onto a disciplined strength that hasn’t melted with age. His hair is silver, cut close.

His face carries lines that weren’t earned gently, creases around his mouth that suggest he doesn’t smile often, deeper ones at his brow from years of scrutiny and decision-making.

“I’m talking about the pool, Atelia.”

“I know,” she murmurs, “Although, this is a much calmer reception than the last time one of your high-profile guests visited.”

“I assume you’re referring to the incident at the club.” I don’t look at her.

“I’m referring,” she teases lightly, “To the party that nearly made its way into the press because someone thought discretion was optional.”

“That was handled.”

“Oh, I know,” she shrugs, straightening just as Sullivan turns toward us. “But it was… memorable.”

Of course it was.

Chaos always is.

“Sullivan.” I step forward before she can add anything else.

“Robert.” He extends his hand, giving the kind of handshake that’s more about confirmation than introduction.

“Sullivan.” Atelia steps forward, extending her hand with that same effortless poise she carries into every room.

“The pretty Atelia,” he greets, a smile pulling at his mouth as he takes her hand, lifting it just enough to press a soft kiss to the back of it.

“She bites,” I add as I step in, my voice cutting into the moment.

“I have no doubt.” He pulls back, amusement still lingering at the edge of his mouth.

His attention shifts, his gaze sweeping over the space again, slower this time, like he’s recalibrating what he’s seen against what he expected.

“What you’ve built here is impressive,” he offers, his gaze lingering at the pool, then to the staff positioned just out of reach but fully aware.

“It’s designed to be,” I reply, gesturing toward the entrance behind me. “But this is only a fraction of what we offer.”