My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 71

Chapter 71: 72/The Scent of Obsession

Chapter 72:

Olivia’s Point of View

I stood before the heavy wooden office door and took a deep breath that made my chest rise sharply.

I raised my hand mechanically, running my fingers through my hair strands, ensuring they were tucked behind my ear,

then with a swift and calculated movement, I reached for my collar and undid the top button of my shirt.

My hand slid toward my bra, pulling out a small perfume vial; I sprayed droplets on the sides of my neck and throat,

closing my eyes for seconds as I inhaled the fragrant scent before returning the vial to its place.

I knocked on the door twice lightly, and his deep voice came from inside that voice that runs through my body like an electric current and makes my knees tremble:

"Come in."

I pushed the door open and entered, but my steps froze immediately on the carpet.

He was sitting in his leather chair, completely bare-chested.

My eyes fixed on the definition of his prominent muscles and his skin,

which looked as though it were carved from rock; I felt a sudden heat invade my face and my breath tightened.

Without my will, the tip of my tongue moved to lick my lower lip slowly, while my heartbeat drummed in my ears from the intensity of the excitement.

Robert’s back was to me, his gaze fixed rigidly toward the massive aquarium, watching the small sharks as they tore through the water with their fluid movements.

I felt grateful that he didn’t see my hungry looks and that moment of losing control;

I was still standing there, my body stiffened under the weight of the scene, struggling to regain my professional mask while my desire burned inside.

I swallowed with great difficulty, feeling a sudden dryness in my throat as I whispered:

"Hello, sir... I wanted to see if you needed anything before I leave."

He rose from his chair slowly, and that movement alone made my pulse race madly; his imposing stance pierced through me like a bullet settling in the center of my heart.

He fixed his sharp gaze on me and said in a deep voice:

"Tomorrow morning, you will take clothes for Julie suitable for work... she has become my personal assistant."

At that moment, I felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over my head;

my body paralyzed completely, and I dug my nails into the palm of my hand so hard that I felt the pain stinging my skin.

I tried desperately to maintain a calm tone that hid the volcano of rage exploding inside me, and said:

"Sir, you don’t like having a personal assistant... you were always against this and relied only on Ron."

He shot me a cold look that froze the blood in my veins, and asked with a terrifying calmness:

"Are you Robert Cross?"

I stammered, feeling the words turn to stone in my throat:

"What?"

He repeated his question, narrowing his eyes at me:

"I am asking you... is your name Robert Cross?"

I lowered my head in surrender and said in a faint voice:

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