Chapter 44
Julie’s point of view
I felt the pressure of his fingers tighten on my arm as if he were trying to crush my bones.
I called him an idiot... I knew it was a suicidal word, but his constant touching brings out the worst in ; it makes lose control of my tongue completely, just as I’ve lost control of my life.
He dragged violently behind him, his strides wide and angry, until we reached my room.
He shoved inside and slamd the door with a bang that echoed throughout the place, then stood before like a mountain of rage, saying in an ominous hiss:
"Who are you calling an idiot?"
His hand was still gripping my arm, so I scread in his face while trying to break free:
"Look at yourself! Look at how you’re squeezing my arm... you’re hurting !"
I saw a strange glint in his eyes, then his hand loosened and he pulled it back quickly, as if my body had beco embers burning his fingers. He exhaled sharply in frustration and said:
"You are the one forcing into this, Julie... your actions have crossed every red line."
"Let go from here!"
I retorted in bitter despair, but he smiled with a cold mockery and said:
"You are staying here forever... do you understand the aning of the word forever?"
I swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in my chest as if the walls were closing in.
"I don’t belong in this place... I can’t get used to its filth, do you understand?"
He ran his hand through his hair with a provocative coolness and replied with one word that shook my being:
"I will make you get used to it."
The lowlife bastard! Why doesn’t he end this torture and let everyone rest? He returned his piercing gaze to and asked suddenly:
"How did you know the key opens every door?"
I froze; my secret was out. I feared he would snatch the key from , as it was my only ans of movent. I said, attempting to remain firm:
"It’s simple... the key bears no number or special engraving for this room. Since the staff and guards enter the rooms at any ti, it’s logical for there to be a master key that opens all doors alongside the electronic system."
His features shifted from anger to genuine amazent.
He looked at for a long ti and said:
"I didn’t expect you to discover this, Julie... you’ve truly surprised ."
Then he added with a question:
"And why did you enter that room specifically?"
I rembered the plate of duck I hadn’t finished, and felt the pangs of hunger return:
"Because I was hungry! They didn’t bring dinner today, and I haven’t eaten a thing since yesterday’s breakfast... I was going to die of hunger, and you didn’t even let finish my food!"
He seed puzzled and asked in an unexpectedly calm tone:
"Why didn’t you ask for food from ... or from Olivia?"
I laughed sarcastically:
"Simply because you were on the upper floor, busy with a ’trade’ party you care about!"
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a more dangerous pitch:
"I truly underestimated your intelligence... because I didn’t know you were in your third year of university despite your young age."
The blood froze in my veins. I felt naked before a monster reading my thoughts. How did he know? Even my father doesn’t know I skipped academic years with excellence. I stamred:
"How did you know this?"
He smiled with a cunning that revealed his devilish handsoness:
"If your father lied to , it doesn’t an I wouldn’t conduct my own research... Julie."
I replied bitterly:
"My father didn’t lie to you... he just doesn’t know. That bastard doesn’t even know what year I’m studying!"
He nodded in agreent and said mockingly:
"You’re right... he is a bastard, and he sold a ’curse’."
Fire ignited in my chest, and I said while clenching my fists:
"And it will curse you!"
He smiled coldly:
"I am already cursed... you’re studying economics and business administration too? Were you planning to start a company?"
He was mocking my shattered dreams, so I retorted sharply:
"Yes... a company for killing scoundrels!"
He laughed softly and asked with biting sarcasm:
"And will you speak in Spanish or French in it?"
I realized then that I was at the rcy of a man who knew more about than I knew about this room.
He knew my languages, my excellence, my ambition... he had even robbed of the privacy of my past.
I looked into the depths of his black eyes, which resembled the fog before a storm, and said in a tone dripping with defiance:
"I see you care a lot about my information, Mr. Robert... excessively so, as if you fear you cannot control what you remain ignorant of."
I saw his jaw muscles visibly contract, as if my words had hit a sensitive nerve he was trying to hide behind his icy mask.
But he quickly regained his composure and smiled a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes, replying in a husky voice:
"Don’t think you’re special, Julie... don’t let your imagination run wild. But in my world, information is the key; it’s what makes you like an open book before , I read your pages before you even think of writing them."
He was trying to break with coldness; he wanted to send a clear ssage:
"I see what lies behind the walls of your mind, so do not try to hide."
His eyes darkened suddenly, and that sarcastic smile vanished to be replaced by a mask of stern seriousness. He said in a deep, commanding voice:
"Now... give the key."
I shook my head in a firm refusal, taking a step back as my breathing accelerated.
"No... this key was the price of standing on that stage and facing the filth of your custors. We agreed, and you can’t take it now!"
Author’s Note Due to an error in the Chapter order, I have added an extra Chapter for you. Enjoy!
Chapter 45
Julie’s point of view
He replied in a calm tone that carried the weight of mountains:
"Julie... don’t make repeat myself twice. You know I don’t like repetition."
The key rested in the pocket of my pajama jacket, its cold tallic feel giving a false sense of security.
I tightened my grip on it through the fabric, as if I were protecting my soul and not just a piece of tal. I said in desperate defiance:
"You won’t take it from ... I won’t lose my only ans of movent here.".
He began to approach with slow, asured steps, like a panther cornering its prey.
With every step he took, I retreated until I felt the edge of the bed touch the back of my knees.
My feet stumbled, and I fell sitting on the bed, while he stood over , dominating the place with his towering height and massive shadow, slowly extending his hand toward my pajama pocket, his eyes never leaving mine.
Silence reigned except for the sound of my ragged breathing, and I realized at that mont that his physical strength was capable of crushing , yet I did not loosen my grip on the key.
The world around went still, and I could hear nothing but the beating of my heart like drums in my ears. I tried desperately to lift my feet, to crawl, to escape this suffocating siege, but he was faster than fear itself.
In a second, he leaned his massive body over . I felt the weight of his pride and strength crushing my fragile body onto the bed.
He covered completely, like an inescapable black shadow, preventing any movent and paralyzing any attempt at resistance. I scread inside, but my voice was choked in my throat.
The echo of my father’s voice rang in my head:
"No one will touch you, Julie... whether now or later."
I used to believe he feared for my safety, and now I was here, right beneath him, struggling with my weak strength that seed pathetic against his solidity.
His hot breath brushed my face, carrying the scent of tobacco and power, and I felt a nausea tearing through my insides.
I turned my face to the left quickly, trying to lessen the horror of what was happening, avoiding the gaze of his eyes that I felt penetrating my features even with my eyes closed.
My hand was still clenched over the jacket pocket, protecting the key as if I were protecting my last honor, while he drew closer, his voice erging calm like a snake’s hiss in my ear:
"Resistance doesn’t suit you, Julie... you know I will take it myself."
He reached out slowly toward my clenched hand, and I felt the coldness of his skin touch the heat of my trembling body.
At that mont, the struggle wasn’t over a piece of tal; it was a struggle over who would break the other first.
I scread in his face with all my strength, as if my scream were the last fortress I could use to defend my dignity:
"Stop!"
I wasn’t going to let him go any further, nor break those boundaries I had sworn no one would cross.
If this damn key was what made him violate my space this way, let him and his key go to hell.
With my trembling hand, I pulled the key from my pajama pocket and extended it toward him as if I were throwing a piece of burning coal.
"Take your damn key... and get off now!"
My tone was a mix of contempt and brokenness, and my eyes, which finally t his, were burning with a fire that, if I could, would have burned this club and everyone in it.
Robert looked at the key in my hand, then looked at , and I saw a strange flash in his eyes; perhaps it was victory, or perhaps wonder at my ability to maintain my pride even in my weakest state.
He took the key coldly, and I felt his fingers touch my palm for a second, enough to send a shiver of disgust through my body.
He didn’t move imdiately; he stared at for a while, as if studying my contracted facial features, then very slowly, he began to lift his heavy body off .
But he stopped suddenly and looked at .
"I haven’t held you accountable for the improvisation you did on stage."
I looked at him and said:
"Get off and hold accountable however you wish."
He raised an eyebrow and said:
"I like holding you accountable while I’m like this."
He knew that being held accountable this way was the greatest punishnt for .
I couldn’t move, and I felt so helpless that my eyes filled with tears. I said, trying to stop them from falling:
"Please, get up."
I saw his features stiffen when I uttered the word "Please." Perhaps he didn’t expect to hear it from , I who monts ago was calling him an idiot and defying him fiercely.
That word was my only admission of physical defeat against his power, and I felt bitterness as it left my lips.
Very slowly, and with a movent not devoid of a cruelty cloaked in an eerie calmness, he lifted his body off .
I suddenly felt the coldness of the room invade my body after the suffocating warmth of his body had left.
He stood beside the bed, coldly adjusting the lapels of his suit jacket as if he hadn’t been practicing the most heinous psychological pressure on seconds ago.
He put the key in his trouser pocket and said in a husky voice:
"The accounting is not over yet, Julie."
I stood up from the bed quickly, trying my hardest to freeze the tears inside my eyes so they wouldn’t fall. I looked at him and said,
’’Robert... do not repeat what you just did.’’
I didn’t call him ’Sir’; instead, I stripped him of his title while looking at him with pure defiance
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