My father sold me to the Mafia King-Chapter 39/Visit Mendoza

Chapter 39

Julie’s Point of View

After Robert left my room an exit that was strangely and suspiciously quiet I ignored him immediately and lay down on the bed.

My body was exhausted as if I had fought a grueling war, and the texture of the emerald fabric of the dress reminded me at every moment of my small victory.

I was surprised that Robert didn’t comment, didn’t scream, and didn’t turn the room upside down as I had expected.

His calmness made me wonder anxiously: I wonder, is he planning something else to punish me?

In that moment, the door opened. I sprang from the bed quickly, ready to face Robert’s storm, but the person who entered was not him.

"Hello, Julie."

I froze in my place. Mr. Carlos Mendoza was inside my room! What is this man doing here? He walked a few steps with a provocative calmness, pulled the vanity chair, and sat on it.

Then he crossed one leg over the other, placed his golden cane horizontally across his knees, and said,

"I imagine you are surprised by my visit."

I was indeed surprised, and even more terrifying was my thought that Robert might have assigned him the task of punishing me.

I replied in a calm tone, trying to hide my tension,

"Of course, I am curious to know the reason for Mr. Mendoza’s presence in my room."

He smiled, leaning back slightly in the chair.

"Let’s say I want to have a little chat with you."

His answer increased the question marks in my head.

I sat on the edge of the bed facing him and said sarcastically,

"I didn’t know this place offered this kind of show as well... I was surprised that you grant the girls here the right to speak."

He looked at me deeply and said,

"Let’s say you are the sole exception."

"An exception?" I repeated in confusion.

He smiled slyly.

"Yes, Julie... your rebellion on that stage made everyone fascinated by you."

My mouth hung open in shock. I couldn’t believe this was what happened!

My intention was to ruin the show and appear as a girl no one wanted so how did the opposite happen?

He continued before I could reply:

"To the extent that you made me come to talk to you."

"And I should be happy now because you are in my room talking to me, right?"

I asked him, trying to process the situation.

He looked at me with indecipherable features, so I continued:

"Mr. Carlos... I am listening, what do you want?"

He replied in a low voice:

"Are you trying to kick me out?"

Good, he understood the message. I replied as I checked the stability of my hair with my hands:

"Oh, how rude of me... I am sorry you understood it that way..."

Then I added boldly:

"Actually, that is exactly what I meant."

He smiled, then muttered a sentence in Spanish that made the blood boil in my veins with rage. He was saying:

"This tongue, I will crush it after I cut off your head."

I stood up immediately and said to him with fierce anger,

"Who do you think you are?!"

His eyes widened in astonishment; he never expected that I understood his language.

"Do you speak Spanish?" he asked sharply.

I replied, sparks flying from my eyes:

"Yes... and now, get out of here. I don’t want you in my room!"

He didn’t move. He remained seated, watching me coldly, and said,

"Not yet... I am enjoying watching you while you are angry."

I tried to regulate my breathing and lower the heat of my anger; this is what he wants he wants me to lose my temper.

I said in a calm, provocative tone,

"It seems you had a harsh childhood, Mr. Carlos."

He looked at me with curiosity:

"How so?"

I returned to my place and said,

"Once you enjoy my madness, and another time my anger... because you didn’t know pleasure in your childhood, so its true meaning became distorted in your head."

He smiled again damn his smile! He said sarcastically,

"I didn’t know you were a psychiatrist."

"I’m not, but I know psychopaths... let’s call it a gift from heaven."

He gripped his cane so hard that his fingers strained over it, and I felt a small victory because I had succeeded in wiping that cursed smile away.

He shifted his gaze toward the corner of the room where the boxes were, then stood up and headed toward them with steady steps. He said,

"It seems Robert has started to surrender, which is why he brought you all these books."

Then he added mockingly,

"I imagine these books are the reason for your sharp tongue... they make you live in a fantasy... the fantasy that the good guys always win against the bad guys."

The bastard! He wants to make me look like a child who believes in fairy tales. I fixed my gaze on him and said in a decisive tone,

"I don’t read novels, Mr. Carlos. I read science and culture... and I am not stupid enough to cling to fictional endings... I am always ready to change my side."

I caught a strange glint in his eyes a glint of appreciation mixed with danger. He said in a low voice,

"I was never wrong when I saw something different in you... something that cannot be described only in words, Julie."

I marveled at his blatant contradiction; one moment he praises me and the next he insults me he truly is a madman, just as I thought. I said to him with indifferent sarcasm,

"Congratulations... you have discovered a dangerous discovery!"

He raised his eyebrows high in response to my mockery of him, but he decided to ignore it this time.

He pointed his cane toward the boxes, asking,

"And why are your precious books still inside the boxes?"

Why does he care about my books, anyway? Does he want to count my intellectual weapons? I replied coldly,

"Because I am waiting for Mr. Robert’s generosity to get a bookshelf."

He looked at me deeply, as if studying my answer, then said,

"And what else?"

I replied with genuine surprise,

"What do you mean?"

He said in an inquiring tone:

"Did you ask him for anything else?"

My surprise increased; why is he asking about what I requested from Robert? Is he trying to find out the extent of Robert’s control over me or his responsiveness to my demands? But I answered him despite my suspicions:

"I asked him for a desk, papers, and pens."

Carlos turned toward the room door, then suddenly asked me a question that brought me back to my reality that had been stolen from me:

"It seems you are a smart girl... smart to the point that it surpasses your beauty by far."

I froze in my place for a moment; I felt his words touch a sensitive nerve within me.

My beauty had always been the curse that led me to this cage, while my intelligence was the only weapon preventing me from collapsing. I looked at him with a sharp gaze and said with bitter certainty:

"Beauty is just a cover, Mr. Carlos... and unfortunately, there are many who adore only the covers."

Silence reigned in the room for seconds that felt like an eternity, then Carlos said in a philosophical tone I hadn’t expected from him:

"Covers tear with time, Julie... but what lies beneath is what remains."

I smiled with a sarcasm I couldn’t restrain and said,

"Strange! Just moments ago you were mocking me because I read books and considered them fantasy... and now you are speaking in wisdom?"

He smiled in turn, a smile as cold as ice, and said,

"I told you I only enjoy provoking you."

At that moment, the door opened and Robert entered. His entry was like a silent storm; Carlos’s smile vanished immediately, replaced by his usual mask of gravity.

Carlos looked at his friend and said mockingly,

"I think, my friend, you are more hurried for my departure than Julie herself."

Robert replied in a calm and steady voice, but one that carried an implicit order to leave:

"It’s late, Carlos."

I couldn’t help myself; I burst out laughing at the irony of the situation. Both turned toward me with questioning, heavy looks. Carlos asked stiffly,

"What’s funny, Julie?"

This was my golden opportunity to pay him back in kind and avenge all his previous provocations.

I looked at him with eyes shining with spite and said,

"What’s funny is that Mr. Robert is worried about you, Mr. Carlos... it must be time for your medications. At such an age, you must be suffering from chronic diseases."

In reality, Carlos was not old; he was in the prime of his youth and strength.

But I knew that "age" and "weakness" were the weak points of men who live on power and dominance.

I succeeded in hitting the target; I saw his jaw clench violently, and the veins in his neck bulge with suppressed rage.

But the strangest thing of all was that when I turned toward Robert, I didn’t find anger... instead, I caught a ghost of a real smile trying to escape from the corner of his mouth.