Chapter 39
Julie’s Point of View
After Robert left my room an exit that was strangely and suspiciously quiet I ignored him immediately and lay down on the bed.
My body was exhausted as if I had fought a grueling war, and the texture of the emerald fabric of the dress reminded me at every moment of my small victory.
I was surprised that Robert didn’t comment, didn’t scream, and didn’t turn the room upside down as I had expected.
His calmness made me wonder anxiously: I wonder, is he planning something else to punish me?
In that moment, the door opened. I sprang from the bed quickly, ready to face Robert’s storm, but the person who entered was not him.
"Hello, Julie."
I froze in my place. Mr. Carlos Mendoza was inside my room! What is this man doing here? He walked a few steps with a provocative calmness, pulled the vanity chair, and sat on it.
Then he crossed one leg over the other, placed his golden cane horizontally across his knees, and said,
"I imagine you are surprised by my visit."
I was indeed surprised, and even more terrifying was my thought that Robert might have assigned him the task of punishing me.
I replied in a calm tone, trying to hide my tension,
"Of course, I am curious to know the reason for Mr. Mendoza’s presence in my room."
He smiled, leaning back slightly in the chair.
"Let’s say I want to have a little chat with you."
His answer increased the question marks in my head.
I sat on the edge of the bed facing him and said sarcastically,
"I didn’t know this place offered this kind of show as well... I was surprised that you grant the girls here the right to speak."
He looked at me deeply and said,
"Let’s say you are the sole exception."
"An exception?" I repeated in confusion.
He smiled slyly.
"Yes, Julie... your rebellion on that stage made everyone fascinated by you."
My mouth hung open in shock. I couldn’t believe this was what happened!
My intention was to ruin the show and appear as a girl no one wanted so how did the opposite happen?
He continued before I could reply:
"To the extent that you made me come to talk to you."
"And I should be happy now because you are in my room talking to me, right?"
I asked him, trying to process the situation.
He looked at me with indecipherable features, so I continued:
"Mr. Carlos... I am listening, what do you want?"
He replied in a low voice:
"Are you trying to kick me out?"
Good, he understood the message. I replied as I checked the stability of my hair with my hands:
"Oh, how rude of me... I am sorry you understood it that way..."
Then I added boldly:
"Actually, that is exactly what I meant."
He smiled, then muttered a sentence in Spanish that made the blood boil in my veins with rage. He was saying:
"This tongue, I will crush it after I cut off your head."
I stood up immediately and said to him with fierce anger,
"Who do you think you are?!"
His eyes widened in astonishment; he never expected that I understood his language.
"Do you speak Spanish?" he asked sharply.
I replied, sparks flying from my eyes:
"Yes... and now, get out of here. I don’t want you in my room!"
He didn’t move. He remained seated, watching me coldly, and said,
"Not yet... I am enjoying watching you while you are angry."
I tried to regulate my breathing and lower the heat of my anger; this is what he wants he wants me to lose my temper.
I said in a calm, provocative tone,
"It seems you had a harsh childhood, Mr. Carlos."
He looked at me with curiosity:
"How so?"

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