My father sold me to the Mafia King novel Chapter 97

Chapter 97: 98/Mexican kiss

Chapter 98

Robert’s point of view

I prolonged my gaze into her eyes for seconds, trying to probe the depths of that new glint I wasn’t accustomed to, then I exhaled slowly and said:

"Fine, Julie... I will allow you that."

In that moment, her eyes flashed with a spark I couldn’t interpret, and her pupils dilated with a fleeting joy as she added:

"Thank you, Mr. Robert."

Her thanks were wrapped in excessive respect, as if it were a silk robe she wore to hide a dagger behind it.

I felt suspicion gnawing at my thoughts; this sudden submission doesn’t resemble Julie.

There are threads being woven in secret, and something is being cooked behind those calm features.

I shifted my gaze from her toward the scattered papers on my desk and said in a commanding and dry tone:

"Bring me a cup of coffee."

And as she moved to stand up, I followed my statement strictly:

"No sugar."

She answered with a calm obedience:

"Yes... alright."

I watched her figure move toward the door with lightness, and I followed the echo of her pink heels until it vanished completely after the door closed.

A total silence prevailed in the office, so I rested my head against the chair’s headrest and closed my eyes, summoning her image and that strange glint in her eyes.

I said in a low voice that barely exceeded my hearing, as if addressing her ghost which was still lingering in the room:

"What are you planning, Julie?"

After a few minutes, the echo of her footsteps returned to break the office’s stillness.

She placed the cup before me quietly and withdrew two steps, standing with a suspicious dignity watching my reaction.

I lifted the cup and took a single sip; the coffee was black and bitter, exactly as I requested.

The bitterness settled in my throat while I recalled the morning scene, when she served it to me overflowing with sugar in a mocking tone... what had flipped her scales now?

My questioning did not last long, as the door opened and Carlos entered. His gaze froze on Julie, and I saw his features change in seconds.

He moved toward her with wide, impulsive steps, and asked her in a worried tone:

"Julie... what’s wrong with your cheek?"

Before she could utter a word, his hand extended to touch her skin, and his fingers brushed over the reddened finger marks that had begun to appear clearly on her cheek.

I gripped the edge of my wooden desk until my knuckles turned white, and I felt an overwhelming urge to stand up and rip his hand from its roots, but Julie took a step back and moved his hand away gently:

"It’s nothing, Mr. Carlos... don’t worry about it."

Carlos did not retreat; instead, he approached her more, invading her private space:

"Does it hurt?"

She answered in a low voice while looking at the floor:

"Only a little."

Carlos’s smile widened with provocative boldness, and he said in a playful tone:

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