My father sold me to the Mafia King-Chapter 64 - 65/Fortress cracks

Chapter 65:

Robert’s Point of View

She seemed in my arms like a tiny, broken creature;

her head tilted helplessly against my shoulder, and her rebellious strands of hair scattered to cover part of my face,

seeping into my pores with the scent of grapes and jasmine.

I thought her consciousness had entirely departed under the weight of the wine,

but suddenly, she raised her heavy eyelids and looked at me with lost eyes, whispering in a deep voice:

"Who are you?"

I did not answer; I tightened my grip on her slender body and continued descending the stairs,

ignoring her question that pierced my silence.

Suddenly, I felt her small, swaying fingers fumbling with my beard;

her touch was light as a treacherous breeze, yet it sent a violent shiver racing down my spine.

I felt those icy fortresses I had built around my heart for years beginning to melt under the heat of her fingertips.

We entered the elevator, and the metal door closed to isolate us in a cramped, suffocating space.

There, her fingers extended to draw random lines over my lips; her touch was cold, yet it ignited a fire in my chest I had never known.

I felt my heart thumping against my ribs with such force and noise that it almost exposed me.

Her breath, saturated with the scent of aged grapes, hit my neck in hot bursts, increasing the confusion of my senses.

Suddenly, her movement stilled.

Her eyes widened with a terrifying clarity as if the fog of intoxication had cleared for a moment,

and she said in a sharp tone in which she regained her hatred:

"I recognize you."

Before I could grasp the significance of her words, her hand freed itself from my chest, and a powerful slap echoed across my face.

That slap possessed a resonance and strength that did not suit her swaying hand;

I felt the heat of my cheek intensifying, and I wondered bitterly how a body that could barely stand could find all that energy to pour its hatred over my face.

Instead of collapsing in tears, she erupted into hysterical laughter,

then began whispering unintelligible words, attempting to sing with a cracked melody;

she was mixing words and moving between notes with total lostness, while her body shook in my hands with every gasp of laughter.

The elevator door opened, and I walked out with wide strides,

the veins in my neck bulging from the effect of suppressed rage.

I headed toward the large door where the guard stood like an idol,

his eyes widening in bewilderment as he caught sight of me carrying the "merchandise" that had just rebelled.

I gestured firmly with my head for him to open the door, and while his fingers moved over the keypad, Julie suddenly stopped singing.

She raised her head with effort, looked at the guard with withered eyes, and shouted in a commanding, drunken tone:

"Open the door for your stupid master... go on!"

The guard’s back stiffened and his hand froze for a moment;

he turned toward me with a stunned look as if he had heard blatant blasphemy.

I completely ignored his gaze and stepped inside, my body tensing from the intensity of my fury.

I walked through the long corridor, and when I reached her room,

I opened the door and entered, kicking it shut behind me with a muffled thud, and said gruffly:

"We have arrived."

No response came.

I tilted my head slightly to find that she had become completely still;

she had fallen into a deep sleep, her head resting heavily on my shoulder,

her rhythmic breath brushing against my neck.

My anger suddenly subsided, replaced by a heaviness in my chest.

I approached the bed and leaned down slowly to place her on the silk sheets;

her body was completely relaxed as if she had lost her connection to the world.

I knelt on my knees beside the bed, removed her shoes quietly, then pulled the cover over her slender body.

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her in a long silence.

Then my hesitant hand extended, and with my fingertips,

I brushed the rebellious strands of hair away from her face, contemplating that stillness which resembled nothing in my life.

I pulled my hand away from her face with a sudden movement,

as if I had touched glowing embers or a bomb about to explode between my fingers.

My body recoiled backward, and I felt a tightness in my chest and a fracturing of my pride;

I couldn’t find a single explanation for this boyish confusion that had invaded me.

I stood up mechanically and left the room with wide strides that almost crushed the carpet beneath them.

I was walking in the dark corridor, my breath coming out staggered, and I whispered to myself in a voice choked with sternness:

"Robert... you are a man, not a teenager!"

How could this happen? I, who never blinked an eye before the most powerful women,

find myself tonight shattered and confused before a small girl who possesses nothing of her own will.

I entered my room and bolted the door with a violent noise, beginning to take off my clothes with nervous movements.

I was tearing the buttons of my shirt as if I wanted to get rid of my own skin.

Rage was boiling in my veins; a burning rage toward myself first, toward that girl who shook my stability, and toward this world that placed me in this position.

I stood before the mirror, my body dripping with sweat despite the room’s coldness, and contemplated my stiffened face.

Thoughts began to gnaw at my mind: What is Julie’s status now? If she is no longer just "merchandise" in my eyes, what is she in this desolate den?

How will I justify her presence here before my men who watch every move?

And worst of all... how will I justify her presence to myself, I who no longer recognizes his own features in the mirror?

I pressed my fist against the marble edge until my knuckles turned white,

feeling that the control I had spent my life building was beginning to slip through my fingers like fine sand.