Page 81 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

“And now he’s just here?” She gestures vaguely, like the idea itself is offensive. “Just walking into your life as if nothing happened?”

“He didn’t force anything,” I cut in quickly. “Not in Vegas, and definitely not tonight.”

I clip my tongue to the roof of my mouth to stop me from spilling that the reason I was that broken after Vegas, was merely because of my newfound attachment to Robert.

Aisha blinks once, then narrows her eyes.

“I didn’t say he did.” She scoffs.

“You were going to.”

“I was going to say he took advantage of a situation you didn’t understand,” she fires back. “Which is not better, Christine.”

“Tell me about it.”

“And wait… Tonight?” Her eyes burn through, like she’s trying to decide whether to shake me or hold me, and I don’t have the energy for either.

Luckily, my phone buzzes, interrupting her train of thought.

We both glance at it at the same time to catch the unknown caller flashing across the screen.

I frown.

For a second, I consider ignoring it. I should. Nothing good comes from answering such calls. But I’ll take being dippedin fresh blood and swimming across a sea of sharks, over continuing this conversation with Aisha.

“Hello?” I speak into the receiver, tilting away from her.

“Miss me already?” The caller drawls and my stomach turns.

It’s Daniel.

I close my eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of my nose before I turn further away from Aisha, even though she already knows from my expression that something’s off.

“You should be on your honeymoon,” I hiss out, not even trying to hide the irritation.

He laughs softly, like he’s not calling me from what’s supposed to be the start of his marriage.

“I am,” he replies easily. “I thought I’d check in on my favorite planner.”

“I’m not your anything, idiot.”

“Still feisty,” he hums, enjoying it. “I like that.”

Aisha is watching me now, her arms folded, her expression already darkening as she reads the shift in my tone.

“What do you want, Daniel?” I ask, burning through whatever game he thinks he’s playing.

“I was thinking,” he starts casually. “You’ve got talent, real talent. Tonight proved that.”

“Seriously?”

“And… I can help you,” he continues. “I can open doors you wouldn’t even know how to knock on. Get you bigger clients. Better venues. International work if you want it.”

“And what do you get?” I know his game but I play it anyway.

“There she is.” He chuckles, then clears his throat. “It’s simple… You spend time with me.”

“There he is,” I throw back at him.