My father sold me to the Mafia King-Chapter 86 - 87/The Master’s Concern

Chapter 87:

Robert’s Point of View

Olivia froze before my eyes as if she had seen a ghost emerging from the folds of the corridor; her joints stiffened, and her face turned pale in an instant.

I repeated her name with a sharper tone, my body blocking her path:

"Olivia."

She stammered, her voice trembling as she tried desperately to regain her false composure:

"Nothing, sir..."

I narrowed my eyes, eyeing her with a scrutinizing look that made her eyelids quiver, and asked coldly:

"What are you doing in Sarah’s room?"

She swallowed hard and began fumbling with her fingertips in a gesture indicating suppressed tension, then said:

"Nothing... I was just checking if she lacked anything."

The suspicious movements of her body and the way her gaze shifted away from mine told me clearly that she was hiding something behind that door, but I decided to overlook it for the moment.

I said in a definitive voice:

"Prepare Luna tonight for Carlos."

She nodded quickly in a gesture of submission and said:

"Yes, Mr. Robert."

I continued my instructions, remaining standing with a rigidity that suggested authority:

"And send her to the VIP room."

She replied with total subservience:

"Yes, Mr. Robert... I will carry out all your orders."

I watched her walk down the corridor with fast steps, as if she were fleeing from the dominance of my presence, until she disappeared inside Luna’s room.

As soon as she was gone, my focus shifted entirely toward a door a few steps away from me... the door to Julie’s room.

My movement stopped completely, and I remained staring at the silent wood with an internal question:

’Should I check on her?’

I recalled her scene from a short while ago; how her body jerked in agitation from the thought of the kiss I had planted in her mind,

and how she was trembling with terror from Axel to the point that she buried her face in my chest seeking safety.

I felt a strange curiosity gnawing at me, and an impulse I didn’t understand pushing me to approach;

perhaps I should go and ask her if she had regained her calm... or perhaps to see the glint of brokenness in her eyes once more.

I walked toward her door with confident steps, turned the handle quietly, and entered.

At that moment, I felt as if time had stopped completely; I froze in my place, my eyes widening in a shock that paralyzed my movement and silenced my tongue.

She had her back to me, her head leaning toward the wall, and she had completely stripped off her shirt.

She was wearing a scarlet red bra that clearly accentuated the size of her full, provocative breasts, creating a stark contrast with her white skin.

She didn’t notice my presence at first, so I allowed my gaze to examine her bare waist,

which looked precisely sculpted with divine accuracy, as if it were a piece of marble crafted by the hands of angels.

Suddenly, she turned toward me, letting out a muffled gasp as her entire body trembled when her eyes fell on me.

In an instinctive movement filled with confusion, she raised her small hands and tried to cover her chest with them,

but her hands were nothing more than a desperate attempt of no use before her alluring body.

She said in a tense voice choked by embarrassment:

"What are you doing here? Go... get out immediately!"

But I wasn’t hearing her words; something else had caught my attention, extinguishing the fire of desire in my veins and replacing it with a cold rage.

I spotted her red, swollen cheek the mark of the slaps was still throbbing on her delicate skin.

I let go of the doorknob with a force that made it slam shut behind me with a resounding sound, and stepped toward her with fast, determined strides.

I didn’t give her a chance to retreat; I cupped her face with my broad hand,

tilting her head to meet my eyes, then asked in a low voice boiling beneath the surface:

"Who did this to you?"

She fixed her gaze on my eyes, and I felt her cheek trembling under the palm of my hand, but she said in a tone she tried to keep rigid:

"No one."

I clenched my teeth until my jaw almost shattered, and exhaled hot breaths that fanned her face as I said in a low, terrifying voice:

"Julie... who hit you? I see the finger marks clearly etched on your cheek."

She snatched my hand away from her face violently and took a step back, pulling her staggering shoulders tight, and said sharply:

"No one hit me! Don’t you understand?"

I didn’t allow her to pull away; I pounced on her face again, trapping it between my broad palms,

and I was on the verge of exploding with a rage that made the veins in my neck bulge clearly.

I shouted at her:

"Julie, don’t lie! Tell me now... who did this to you?"

She placed her small hands over mine, trying with all her might to pull them off her face, but she was like someone trying to move a marble mountain.

I craned my neck toward her and said in a tone as sharp as a blade:

"Tell me who it is... I will slaughter them!"

I saw terror invade her green eyes suddenly; her pupils dilated and her eyelids fluttered before my threat, then she said in a choked voice:

"I... I did this."

I stood transfixed in my place, my eyes widening in total shock; I felt a sudden coldness sweeping through my anger, and I said in disbelief:

"You?"

How could she do this to herself? My mind refused to believe it; surely she was weaving a lie to protect someone or to protect her dignity. I said bitterly:

"Do you really want me to believe this nonsense?"

At that moment, she lost control of her nerves and screamed in my face, her slender body shaking entirely while she was still in her red bra:

"What is it to you? Why do you care who hit me or didn’t hit me?"

Her question fell on me like a thunderbolt; the words froze in my throat.

Yes, what was it to me? But my chest was boiling with a tightness for which I found no explanation.

I swallowed hard and said, trying to justify my incomprehensible agitation:

"Julie... you are my personal assistant, and certainly, I will care about everything that concerns you."

She fell silent for a moment, her pupils moving rapidly as if she were searching for an exit amidst the wreckage of her thoughts, then she said in a husky voice:

"I told you... I am the one who did it... I slapped myself."