Page 76 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

I feel it in the way she doesn’t immediately push me away. In the way she stays long enough to make it clear this isn’t over.

“You’re not disappearing again.” I hold her gaze.

She holds it for a second. Long enough for something unspoken to pass between us. Something that doesn’t need words.

Then she pulls away first.

“I need to get back inside.” Her hands come up, smoothing over her dress again, putting herself back together like she can undo what just happened by fixing what’s visible.

I watch her do it.

“About that dinner?” I ask.

Her head tilts slightly, like she expected it. Like she knew I wouldn’t let it end here.

“No,” she replies easily, brushing past me.

“Tomorrow?” I fall into step behind her.

“No.” She shrugs.

“Then the next day.”

She lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, glancing back at me over her shoulder, her eyes still carrying that same burn.

“You don’t give up, do you?”

“No.”

“I noticed.” She keeps walking. She doesn’t slow down. But she doesn’t tell me to stop following either.

“Lunch,” I offer.

“Busy.”

“Drinks?”

“Working.” She shoots back.

“Just five minutes, Bonbon.”

“I don't know who that is.” She stops, turning, facing me fully this time, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and irritation, like she’s enjoying this more than she should. “But you're a very persistent man.”

“I know what I want.”

Her lips press together, but there’s something there. Something softer than the no she keeps giving me.

“Unfortunately for you,” she drags out, smoothing her hair back into place, “I’m not part of your menu.”

“Okay.” I step closer. “I won't stop asking.”

She smiles. And it’s dangerous. Because it’s not a rejection.

“Good for you,” she replies, turning back toward the entrance, “I've got plenty of nos to dish out.”

She continues walking.

I follow.