Page 47 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

But it’s just one of the kitchen managers stepping in, already mid-sentence, urgency pushing ahead of him.

“Sir, the delivery you approved for the seafood line hasn’t arrived. We’ve contacted the supplier twice, but…”

“Source it elsewhere.”

He falters slightly, thrown off by how quickly it’s handled.

“We’ll incur additional cost if we…”

“Then incur it,” I cut in, my tone final.

He nods quickly.

“Yes, sir.” He’s gone just as fast as he came, the door closing behind him with a soft click that barely holds before it opens again.

This time, it’s not operations.

It’s one of the event coordinators, younger and in an oversized suit, a tablet clutched too tightly in his hand.

“Sir, the Sullivan team is asking about staging dimensions. They want to confirm if the elevated platform can support…”

“Where’s Atelia?”

“Outside.” He blinks. “Busy with him.”

“Send them the specs,” I clip, already turning away. “Everything they need is in the file.”

“Yes, sir.” He lingers a second, like he wants to say more.

The door shuts again and silence returns, but it’s thinner now. Worn.

I go back to the sofa, dropping into it, the leather giving just enough under my weight before settling.

I reach for the glass without thinking and finish what’s left in a single swallow, the burn sharp, immediate, but not nearly enough to cut through what’s sitting under my skin.

The buzz cuts through the room again.

My teeth clamp down, irritation simmering to the surface.

I don’t need more questions.

Still, this is what I signed up for.

It’s a new establishment with new staff. Fresh faces who haven’t gathered enough experience and expertise.

Someone has to give them a shot.

Someone has to teach them how this works.

I exhale slowly, waiting.

The door opens and the head of security steps in first, his posture straight in a black suit.

“Sir.” He bows briskly, stepping to the side.

Christine steps in behind him.

And everything else falls away.

There you are. Took you long enough.