My father sold me to the Mafia King-Chapter 71 - 72/The Scent of Obsession

Chapter 72:

Olivia’s Point of View

I stood before the heavy wooden office door and took a deep breath that made my chest rise sharply.

I raised my hand mechanically, running my fingers through my hair strands, ensuring they were tucked behind my ear,

then with a swift and calculated movement, I reached for my collar and undid the top button of my shirt.

My hand slid toward my bra, pulling out a small perfume vial; I sprayed droplets on the sides of my neck and throat,

closing my eyes for seconds as I inhaled the fragrant scent before returning the vial to its place.

I knocked on the door twice lightly, and his deep voice came from inside that voice that runs through my body like an electric current and makes my knees tremble:

"Come in."

I pushed the door open and entered, but my steps froze immediately on the carpet.

He was sitting in his leather chair, completely bare-chested.

My eyes fixed on the definition of his prominent muscles and his skin,

which looked as though it were carved from rock; I felt a sudden heat invade my face and my breath tightened.

Without my will, the tip of my tongue moved to lick my lower lip slowly, while my heartbeat drummed in my ears from the intensity of the excitement.

Robert’s back was to me, his gaze fixed rigidly toward the massive aquarium, watching the small sharks as they tore through the water with their fluid movements.

I felt grateful that he didn’t see my hungry looks and that moment of losing control;

I was still standing there, my body stiffened under the weight of the scene, struggling to regain my professional mask while my desire burned inside.

I swallowed with great difficulty, feeling a sudden dryness in my throat as I whispered:

"Hello, sir... I wanted to see if you needed anything before I leave."

He rose from his chair slowly, and that movement alone made my pulse race madly; his imposing stance pierced through me like a bullet settling in the center of my heart.

He fixed his sharp gaze on me and said in a deep voice:

"Tomorrow morning, you will take clothes for Julie suitable for work... she has become my personal assistant."

At that moment, I felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over my head;

my body paralyzed completely, and I dug my nails into the palm of my hand so hard that I felt the pain stinging my skin.

I tried desperately to maintain a calm tone that hid the volcano of rage exploding inside me, and said:

"Sir, you don’t like having a personal assistant... you were always against this and relied only on Ron."

He shot me a cold look that froze the blood in my veins, and asked with a terrifying calmness:

"Are you Robert Cross?"

I stammered, feeling the words turn to stone in my throat:

"What?"

He repeated his question, narrowing his eyes at me:

"I am asking you... is your name Robert Cross?"

I lowered my head in surrender and said in a faint voice:

"No, sir."

He approached me with confident steps, so I held my breath and felt the aura of his dominance wrapping around me, then he said in a tone as sharp as a blade:

"Then act accordingly, Olivia... you are not Robert to know what I like and what I hate. Watch the extent of your words next time."

I nodded in agreement quickly, while my heart boiled like lava with hatred for that wretch "Julie."

He continued coldly as he bypassed me:

"Call the maid to clean the office and take my shirt for washing... I am going to my room."

I watched his bare back in awe; the muscles of his shoulders moved with a lethal and provocative flexibility that I could no longer endure.

I remained in my place, my eyes fixed on his shadow until he closed the door behind him forcefully.

I moved like someone possessed toward his desk, and my trembling hand reached out to pick up his shirt lying there.

I brought the fabric close to my face, closing my eyes tightly as I inhaled his scent with a hysterical depth;

it was a mixture of heavy oud scent and the aroma of luxury tobacco that permeated my pores,

leaving me in a state of loss between my desire for him and my hatred for whoever would get close to him.

I relaxed my eyelids slowly, sinking my face into the warm fabric of his shirt, and whispered in a faltering tone that was barely audible:

"Why don’t you look at me as I look at you, Mr. Robert? Why?"

I pressed my hand on the fabric soaked with whiskey and tobacco, as if I were trying to wrench an answer from its silent fibers.

My memory took me back five years; to the first moment my feet stepped into this place.

I saw him then, and his dignity seemed like a concrete wall a prestige that forces you to step back several paces before you dare to utter his name.

I ran my other hand over my hair strands, which I had changed the color of dozens of times;

from platinum blonde to coal black, and from rebellious short to long flowing like silk.

I remembered how I used to stand before him in dresses that highlighted every detail of my body,

deliberately standing in his line of sight, adjusting my attire with slow movements,

hoping his eyes would lose their way and settle on me for a single second... just one second.

But his icy fortresses did not crack.

He used to look toward me with a coldness that kills me,

piercing eyes passing over me as if I were air, or just another piece of furniture in this luxury office.

I opened my eyes suddenly, and the sparkle in them had turned into a sharp blade.

I tightened my grip on his whiskey-stained shirt, squeezing the fabric between my fingers with a hysterical force until my knuckles turned white and my forearms cramped from the sheer pressure.

I felt my nails digging into the palm of my hand through the fabric, as if I were strangling that girl between my fingers.

My breath rushed forth in succession, and my voice came out as a poisoned hiss filling the void of the office:

"That wild sow... she succeeded in making you see her, she succeeded in shattering all your rules."

I smiled a twisted smile that distorted my facial features, and as I pulled the shirt toward my chest violently,

I felt a powerful tremor of rage running through my spine.

I tilted my head slightly, fixing my gaze on the door Robert had exited from, then added in a cold tone dripping with hatred:

"But I am the one who will end her."