My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 204

Chapter 204: 204/His Personal Dinner

Chapter 204

Robert’s POV

I stormed into the office after leaving Julie’s room, expecting to find Carlos there, but the place was empty. The coward had fled. I pulled out my phone and dialed his number back-to-back, but every time, it just rang out.

I ground my teeth, slamming the phone onto the desk. "Fine, Carlos... let’s see how long you can hide from me."

I sank into my chair and leaned my head back, trying to catch my jagged breath. Damn it. I was seconds away from killing my best friend in a blind fit of rage. Why the hell am I jealous like this? Why did I lose my mind to the point of putting a piece to the head of the only man I actually trusted? Would I really have ended him over her?

I pressed my palms against my face, hard. I need to chill. I need to get a grip on these shattered nerves. I’m supposed to be the symbol of control, the cold-blooded professional running an entire security empire... so why do I lose it every time it comes to her? Why is Julie the only crack in my armor?

I sat in the killing silence of the office, the image of her trembling in front of my gun haunting me.

A strange, unwanted flicker of guilt started crawling up my spine, no matter how much I tried to deny it.

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Julie’s POV

I sat on the edge of my bed, hugging my shaking body. I was trying to process the madness of the last few minutes. Carlos almost died today! Damn it... what is happening? Is Robert really that quick to kill his own friend? A real terror took hold of me at the thought of the blood that was almost spilled in my room.

I knew right then I had to talk to Carlos and warn him; he has to stay away from me, or Robert will end him without a second thought.

Then I remembered his invitation for dinner in his room tonight. I let out an annoyed huff and looked away. There is no way I’m going. I won’t! Didn’t he just say those hateful things to me? Didn’t he question my character? I’ll just sleep. That’s the best plan.

I stood up heavily, dried my hair, and opened my closet with hesitation. What should I wear? And why am I even conflicted? I’m not going anyway! I pulled out a simple pair of pajamas and was about to put them on, then stopped. I put them back. Fine, I’ll wear something else.

Maybe he’ll insist I go, and even though I’ll definitely say no, I want him to find me in something decent when he comes to beg.

I pulled out a short white skirt and a soft white blouse. I threw them on and stood before the mirror, looking at my pale face. "Maybe some makeup?" I muttered, reaching for my brushes. I’m definitely not going; I just want to look him in the eye when he comes to plead and say a cold, hard "No."

I finished my touch-ups, slipped into white flats, and checked my reflection. I was ready... to say no. I sat on my chair, watching the clock move at a killing pace. Dinner time finally arrived. The cook came in, wheeling the food cart. I asked, trying to hide my eagerness, "Did you take dinner to Mr. Robert’s room?"

"Yes," she replied calmly.

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