My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 109

Chapter 109: 110/The Angelic Demon

Chapter 110:

Julie’s Point of View

I walked out of the bathroom with a tense body, trying to banish his image from my head, but the heat still inhabited my veins.

My eyes fell on Axel sitting quietly, and I exploded, saying:

"Your damn, insolent master... do you know what he did?"

I paused for a moment, panting, then continued with eyes flashing with anger:

"He dared to kiss me as a punishment for entering his room!"

I began pacing the room back and forth, my thoughts clashing audibly:

"Is kissing a punishment now? Is he a pervert? Yes, he is undoubtedly a pervert!"

I rushed toward the door and opened it violently, walking down the hallway with angry strides.

I had to go to him immediately and warn him, or perhaps kill him this time. I stopped suddenly, biting my lip with a dark thought:

"I should have taken the scissors with me to slaughter him... should I go back and get them, I wonder?"

While I was drowned in my revenge fantasies, I felt a strong hand clamp onto my arm and pull me suddenly from the middle of the hallway.

I turned in panic, and there he was; the same man who had besieged me with questions about "Violet." He said in a serious and firm tone:

"I must talk to you."

I shook my hand off him violently, my body stiffening defensively:

"I don’t want to!"

He approached me with features covered in persistence and agitation, and said in a low voice:

"Please... I need to know some things."

Then he looked right and left in the empty hallway and asked in a cautious tone:

"Where is your room so we can talk comfortably?"

My body stiffened as I faced his pressing gaze, and I said in a decisive tone:

"Let you into my room? Absolutely not!"

He didn’t back down; instead, he leaned his shoulders slightly and said pleadingly:

"Please... just a little time."

I exhaled in annoyance, my thoughts scrambled, and said, trying to end the matter:

"Listen, I don’t know the Violet you’re talking about."

I hesitated for seconds, my eyes scanning the empty hallway, then I made up my mind and whispered sharply:

"Follow me."

I walked with quick steps and he followed me like my shadow until we reached my room.

As soon as we entered, I locked the door behind him and turned to him, crossing my arms over my chest:

"Fine, I’m listening... and be quick, I don’t have time."

He straightened up and said calmly:

"By the way, my name is Marcus."

His Mexican accent was perfectly clear, reminding me of Carlos’s accent.

I narrowed my eyes and said inquiringly:

"And I am Julie... and you are Mr. Carlos’s nephew, aren’t you?"

He nodded his head in confirmation:

"Yes, that’s right."

Then he took a step closer and continued with a seriousness that made my skin crawl:

"Perhaps Violet is from your family, because the resemblance between you cannot be a coincidence."

I felt a tightness squeezing my chest, so I exhaled forcefully and said:

"I told you I don’t know anyone by that name!"

I went quiet for a moment, then asked with a curiosity I couldn’t curb:

"And why are you looking for her? What is she to you?"

He answered in a tone shrouded in sadness:

"She is my lover."

I shook my head with sorrow and said:

"Unfortunately, I cannot help you."

But he didn’t give up; instead, he said insistently:

"She is exactly like you; she is forty-two years old... there must be a connection between you."

I froze in my place, my eyes widening in shock at the age difference; he looked only in his twenties. I asked with rampant curiosity:

"And you... how old are you?"

He shot me a surprised look, as if my question were a stab at his privacy, but he answered curtly:

"Twenty-five years old."

I said with a shock I couldn’t hide:

"What?"

His features changed suddenly, and I realized then that I had started poking my nose into affairs that didn’t concern me.

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