My father sold me to the Mafia King-Chapter 67 - 68/You’re exaggerating

Chapter 68:

Robert’s Point of View

I leaned back, resting my weight against the leather seat which emitted a faint creak, while my eyes remained fixed on her.

She looked tiny amidst the vastness of the sofa, her body trembling like a thin thread in the wind.

Perhaps the idea of killing him before her eyes wasn’t the ideal choice for her first morning after intoxication, but I wasn’t about to let that touch pass.

A minute of heavy silence passed, and her gaze was still suspended in the void where the corpse had been a moment ago.

I exhaled my cigarette smoke slowly and said:

"Julie... I asked you, won’t you answer?"

She flinched suddenly as if my voice had pricked her, and her voice came out trembling, broken, as she whispered:

"You... you killed him."

I watched her hand as it rose with difficulty to rest over her chest; her fingers were digging into the fabric of her white dress while she panted, as if the air in my office had suddenly run out.

Her pupils dilated as she shook her head in denial and continued:

"I can’t believe you killed him like that... with such brutality."

I closed my eyes for half a second, then extinguished the cigarette in the marble ashtray with a calm, firm pressure, and said in a monotonous voice that did not deviate from its pace:

"This is simply what had to be done."

Her body curled up even more, and she shot me a look saturated with disgust and fear, saying with words that came out faltering from between her teeth:

"You are a monster."

A cold, incomplete smile formed on my lips, and I shook my head slowly, saying:

"This is my nature, Julie."

She lunged her body forward slightly, her hand gripping the sofa until her knuckles turned white, and asked in a sharp tone:

"Why did you kill him?"

I leaned back again, calmly interlacing my fingers over my chest:

"Because he deserved to die."

She replied quickly, her voice increasing in sharpness and agitation:

"But he was only carrying out your orders!"

I fixed my gaze directly into her eyes, and my jaw stiffened as I pronounced every letter with sternness:

"He touched what belongs to me."

A suffocating silence prevailed throughout the office, broken only by a faint hum in the distance.

She recoiled her body, and features of shock mixed with sarcasm appeared on her face, as she said in a low voice:

"I am no longer your merchandise... have you forgotten?"

I didn’t blink, and I answered with total coldness while I adjusted the position of the papers on my desk:

"You are now my personal assistant."

Her body paralyzed completely, and her pupils dilated as she whispered in shock:

"What?"

I ignored her stunned looks and bowed my head to start flipping through some documents, as if I were closing the door on the discussion.

I heard the sound of her breath rising, then she said in a tone that was broken and angry at the same time:

"Did I implicate myself... and send an innocent person to prison... just to be your personal assistant?"

I raised my gaze toward her slowly, with rigid features devoid of any expression, and said only one word before returning to my papers:

"Yes."

Julie adjusted her seating, as if her shock had turned into a shield of resistance, and asked me in a tone she tried to keep composed:

"And Olivia? Isn’t she your assistant?"

I didn’t raise my gaze from the documents, settling for a cold reply:

"She is merely a supervisor over the girls."

A short laugh escaped her, saturated with bitter sarcasm, and she said as she leaned her body toward me:

"Assist you in what then? In cleaning your weapon?"

I raised my head slowly, allowing a slight smile to form on the corner of my mouth:

"There is nothing wrong with that work."

She suddenly bolted from her place, raising her finger in the air and pointing at me with a noticeable tremor, and shouted in a voice that was beginning to lose its control:

"You want to turn me into a maid... preparing coffee and tea for you!"

I rested my back against the seat, examining her face flushed with fury, and said in a calm tone:

"Yesterday you pleaded not to be merchandise... and today, not much time has passed until you started grumbling."

She looked as if she were on the verge of exploding;

she stood up completely from the sofa and began walking with agitated steps in a small space,

her hand wiping her face with tension, then she screamed:

"You don’t leave me a single second to process anything in this cursed place! You implicated me in destroying an unknown person...

you made me drink until I lost consciousness for the first time in my life...

and today, you kill a human being before my eyes as if he were nothing, then you tell me simply that I have become your assistant!"

She stopped moving suddenly, placing her hand on her chest as she panted deeply, as if oxygen were escaping her lungs, then whispered while looking at me with eyes shimmering with a glint of hysteria:

"You... you are making me lose my mind."

I leaned my head back, looking at her with total coldness while she trembled before me, and said in a tone devoid of any emotion:

"Nothing has happened... you are just exaggerating."

She stepped toward my desk with shaky yet firm strides, then leaned her body forward and pressed her palms against the wooden surface;

I saw her knuckles turning white from the intensity of the pressure, the trembling of her hands transferring to the papers scattered before me.

She said in a tone filled with oppression, staring directly into my eyes:

"I am exaggerating?"

I shifted my gaze from the documents, looked at her flushed face coldly, and answered with a single word:

"Yes."

The words rushed from between her trembling lips like bullets:

"A person went to prison yesterday... and today another person died beneath my feet... Yes, I am exaggerating!"

She stilled for a second, her chest rising and falling violently,

her eyes shimmering with tears that refused to fall, turning instead into sparks of hatred.

Her chin trembled, then she whispered in a husky voice dripping with loathing:

"May God curse you... and curse the day I saw your face... and curse my father who sold me to you... and curse me as well!"

I leaned my back against the seat, looked into her eyes burning with hatred with total coldness, and then said in a mocking, calm tone:

"You were more relaxed yesterday... Shall I give you another bottle of wine?"