My father sold me to the Mafia King

Chapter 393

Julie’s POV

Mike tore through the darkness of the road in a silent frenzy, not uttering a single word the entire way until the wheels ground to a halt with a slight, violent jolt in front of my house. I wrapped myself in that sheet in bitter humiliation, feeling a burning shame clawing at my insides. I had never wanted my fucking Jake to be exposed to anyone, not Stella and certainly not Mike. But the cards were already on the table now; there was no longer any room to hide it.

Mike climbed out of his seat with heavy steps and flung the back door open for me, his features rigid. He uttered a single, curt word:

"Get out."

I stepped down from the car with trembling limbs, almost tripping over the hem of that cursed sheet which shackled both my movement and my dignity. I scurried toward the doorstep with breathless steps, reaching my shaking hand under the clay flowerpot to retrieve the spare key. Quickly unlocking the door, I stepped inside. Mike swept in immediately behind me with long strides, shutting the door firmly behind him before turning to me. He muttered in a low, dry tone:

"Go put some clothes on... then come back so we can talk."

I shot him a brief glance as he walked toward the wooden sofa in the living room, sinking onto it heavily with an overwhelming weight of worry. I hurried to my bedroom, slid his woolen jacket off my shoulders, and threw the white sheet to the floor in disgust. I pulled a comfortable cotton pajama set from my wardrobe and threw it on in a rush.

Taking a deep breath to reclaim my composure, I walked out and sat beside him on the same sofa, leaving a deliberate distance between us.

Mike slowly turned to face me, anchoring his lifeless gaze deep into my green eyes. He asked in a choked voice:

"Do you actually love him, Julie?"

Staring back into the depths of his eyes with rigid resolve, I said in a dry, unwavering tone:

"Absolutely not."

His jaw tightened in pain. He asked in a hushed whisper:

"Does Steve know what is going on between you two?"

I curled my lips in a negative shake of my head.

"He doesn’t know a thing."

He nodded slowly, letting out a heavy, frustrated sigh.

"Fine, then."

I adjusted my posture, staring down at my clasped hands with anxiety, and whispered with faint gratitude:

"Thank you for bringing me back here."

Mike let out a bitter, mocking laugh dripping with pure agony. He stared at the ceiling in defeat, his voice shaking:

"I suppose I’ll never be anything more in your eyes than a pathetic nobody... someone whose entire role is restricted to driving you home, or to that cursed hotel where you sing and steal men’s hearts, Julie."

I knit my brows, hiding my underlying emotion, and spoke softly:

"Mike... you are my friend, and you know how much you mean to me."

He leaned his torso forward, his eyes narrowing with a burning reproach as he hissed in a low whisper:

"And did you know about my feelings and my love for you from the very beginning?"

I shifted my gaze to the floor in discomfort, answering honestly:

"To some extent... yes."

He clamped his hands tightly over his knees, his lower lip trembling around a choked lump in his throat:

"I don’t even like roses, Julie... absolutely not. But I drove myself crazy buying them every single day just to have a passing chance to see your face and be near you."

I sighed deeply, trying to frame my words with a merciful cruelty to completely cut off his hope:

"Listen to me carefully, Mike... I do not see you as anything more than a close friend. Truly."

He closed his eyes in sheer agony as if struck by a violent slap across his face. His voice cracked, raspy and broken:

"That is exactly what hurts me the most and burns my soul... because that bastard Jake only arrived in the village two days ago, and yet you rushed off with him and did it with him inside the barn..."

He couldn’t even bring himself to finish the ugly sentence, utterly choked by his resentment. I lifted my head with defiant boldness, cutting him off with frank, dry words to crush his hesitation:

"I fucked him. Finish your sentence, don’t beat around the bush and don’t be shy."

He locked his tear-filled eyes onto my face, rasped with overwhelming pain:

"I am not shy at all, Julie... I am in pain! In absolute agony that you could never possibly imagine."

I relaxed my hands, saying in a low, sincere tone:

"I am sorry, Mike... I truly didn’t mean to hurt you like this."

He rubbed his face with his massive palm in exhaustion, his voice breathless:

"I don’t know why you’ve started to feel like a completely different, unrecognizable girl to me... You weren’t this cold and harsh when your feet first touched this village."

I narrowed my eyes in quiet calculation, asking:

"And have I changed for the worse or the better in your eyes?"

He traced my facial features with a sick, sorrowful yearning, whispering in a cracked voice:

"You used to have a beautiful, gentle, warm smile that brought joy and peace to the heart of anyone who looked at you... but now, your green eyes don’t carry even a trace of that old innocence."

I curled my lips in biting self-mockery.

"So I’ve changed for the worse in your opinion."

His expression shifted with sudden eagerness, whispering with overwhelming adoration:

"You are beautiful and breathtaking in every single mood and transformation... You are always the best and the purest to my heart, Julie, no matter what you do."

I shook my head in mock dismissal, stating dryly:

"That is a massive exaggeration."

"It isn’t!" he said with a slight burst of emotion. In an impulsive movement, he slid his body across the sofa to draw dangerously close to my personal space. He extended his trembling hand into the warm air between us, looking at my face with a low plea, whispering hesitantly: "Can I... just touch a strand of your hair?"