My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 213

Chapter 213: 213/An Old Secret

Chapter 213

Julie’s POV

I was in the car with this stranger... well, he didn’t feel like a total stranger because he knew my parents, and even my aunt, whom it turns out everyone knows but me.

He saved me, but I knew nothing of his identity. Those piercing gray eyes gave me a shiver of fear, yet at the same time, they offered a strange sense of security I couldn’t explain. Right now, Robert must be worried sick about me. Does he know I’ve been taken? Or has the kidnapper not called him yet?

I looked at him with curiosity and asked, "What is your name?"

He kept his eyes fixed on the road, his voice cool. "My name?"

"Yes," I said, twisting my hands nervously. "I don’t know your name."

"Call me James," he replied.

"Mr. James," I began, trying to sound as appealing as possible, "thank you for saving me. But please, take me to... to my home." Did I say home? Yes, I couldn’t keep telling him to take me to the restaurant.

"I told you," he said in a firm tone that brooked no argument, "you are coming with me to my house tonight. Tomorrow, I will return you to your home."

My eyes widened, and my heart sank. My God! Was I really going to a stranger’s house? Maybe he’d try to rape me, or choke me... maybe he was a psychopath who killed girls and locked them in the basement, or maybe—

"I am not a psychopath, nor a killer, nor a rapist," he interrupted suddenly, his voice steady. "Calm down."

Damn it! How did he know what I was thinking? I jumped in my seat and stammered, "I-I wasn’t thinking that!"

"Based on your expression, you most certainly were," he said with a faint, mocking edge. "You aren’t exactly skilled at hiding your emotions."

Was he a psychiatrist or something? I felt my face flush with embarrassment.

"Tell me about this manager of yours..." he said suddenly. "What’s his name? Robert?"

I tensed up, trying to keep my wits about me. "What should I tell you?"

"A girl your age, what does she do for work? I’m curious," he said, stealing a glance at my features.

I tried desperately not to reveal my real situation or the nature of my relationship with Robert. "I work as a waitress."

"A waitress?" he repeated, his voice thick with skepticism.

"Yes," I insisted.

"I see," he replied coldly.

Anxiety began to seep back into my skin. "Mr. James," I pleaded, "why don’t you just take me to my parents’ house? I’m not comfortable going to your home."

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and said with an eerie calmness, "Don’t worry, Julie... I won’t hurt you."

He looked old enough to be my father, but I still wasn’t at ease going to his house. Suddenly, the car stopped at a massive iron gate that opened automatically. We entered.

There was a vast garden stretching on both sides, with towering trees obscuring everything beyond. We drove for quite a distance until a magnificent mansion came into view, taking my breath away.

Damn! Am I at the White House? "Who are you?" I gasped, unable to hide my shock. "Are you a king or a prince?"

The room was like a princess’s chamber from an old novel. A massive four-poster bed made of hand-carved wood, with lace silk curtains hanging from it.

The walls were covered in wallpaper patterned with delicate classic flowers. In the corner sat a white marble fireplace topped with an oval mirror in an antique gold frame.

The crystal chandelier in the center scattered warm light over the luxurious Persian rugs, and a large window overlooked the garden with a plush reading chair.

He stood at the threshold, his gray eyes still watching me with that strange calm. "Rest," he said. "I’ll order some clothes for you so you can shower."

I knit my brows and turned to him.

The idea of him ordering clothes for me made me feel awkward. "Order them?"

"I don’t have any women’s clothing here, unfortunately," he replied practically, his hand on the doorknob.

"Oh, there’s no need to order anything," I said quickly, rubbing my arms, which still bore the faint marks of the shackles.

"It’s no trouble," he answered with a firm but not unkind tone.

He left the room and closed the door quietly behind him, leaving me alone. I sat on the edge of the plush bed, feeling my body sink into its softness, and began to think deeply.

How does he know my parents? This man is rich beyond rich. It seemed impossible for him to be a friend to my simple father.

I put my head in my hands, my head throbbing with a headache. There was definitely something I didn’t know something hidden in my family’s history that connected this palace and this man "James" to us.

[It was time to write a flashback to reveal the hidden secrets. ]