Chapter eleventh:
Robert's Point of View
That wild courage that inhabits the body of a small gazelle piqued my curiosity and interest every time.
I watched her as she left my office with angry strides, after she had dared to challenge my authority in the heart of my own home.
I can still see the scene of her striking her small fist against my marble desk, and how she screamed with a boldness that the strongest of my men never dared:
"I will not wear the clothes of whores even if you strip my skin from my bones... do you understand?!"
At that moment, a hidden smile formed on my lips, a smile of admiration that I did not want to show.
Olivia stood there as if shell-shocked, watching the "tsunami" that was Julie sweeping through the room, before she bristled with rage and said in a sharp tone:
— "Mr. Robert, I will go to discipline this wretched girl immediately!"
Olivia took a few steps toward the door, but I stopped her with a single word, calm yet cutting like a knife:
— "Leave her alone."
She turned to me in shock, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets:
— "But Mr. Robert... she was insolent toward you and..."
I interrupted her with icy firmness, looking directly into her eyes:
— "You know, Olivia, that I do not like to discuss my orders."
The flame of anger in Olivia's eyes went out, replaced by brokenness and submission. She took a step back and replied in a low voice:
— "Yes, Mr. Robert... as you wish."
After Olivia closed the door behind her, a comfortable silence prevailed in my office, but Julie's ghost did not depart with her. I leaned my back against my leather chair and began thinking about that great "investment" I had bought from Stuart Michael.
I remembered her father's face; that man who reeked of greed and confusion. I wondered how he could let go of her and sell her for such an amount! Yes, for a base and bankrupt man like him, the figure I paid was astronomical—a fortune he might not dream of seeing in ten lifetimes.
But for me? That amount equals nothing compared to her true value.
Stuart was a fool; he thought he was selling me just a beautiful girl with intact skin, not realizing he was handing me a burning soul and a rare beauty that grows more radiant with every cry of rebellion.
He saw her as a "burden" he wanted to get rid of, while I saw in her the "masterpiece" that would complete my collection.
I exhaled my cigar smoke while looking at the file bearing her name. I have closed deals worth billions of dollars, but my deals involving humans were always the most exciting.
And Stuart Michael, with his short-sightedness and greed, presented me with my greatest investment on a silver platter, without realizing that Julie is priceless.
A rhythmic knocking on the door interrupted my train of thought.
Before I granted permission to enter, I knew exactly who my expected guest was.
The heavy wooden double doors opened to admit the man who had long been a partner in my most complex deals.
I rose from my seat, painting that diplomatic smile on my face which I reserve for men like him, and said in a confident, welcoming tone:
— "Welcome,Carlos Mendoza... you have honored my office with your presence."
Carlos advanced with steady steps, prestige surrounding him like his shadow. He extended his hand to shake mine firmly, saying in a warm tone wrapped in years of acquaintance:
— "My dear Robert... I have truly missed you."
Carlos Mendoza represented raw power; this head of the Mexican Mafia does not move without a good reason, and our friendship, forged in blood and secret deals, created a language between us that no one else understands.
Carlos sat in the chair opposite me with total ease, placing his hand on the golden handle of his cane, and said in a deep voice mixed with his Mexican accent:
"We have secured the border route, Robert, but I came to hear from you about your next plan regarding the expansion into the ports... You seem distracted today; is there something occupying the mind of the most powerful man in this city?"
I painted a cold, neutral smile and shook my head in denial:
— "Nothing, my friend, just fatigue from some small side deals. Tell me more about the details of the new route."
I lit another cigar and gestured with my hand for him to continue.
Carlos adjusted his seating, his serious features becoming prominent as he placed a miniature map on the table, and said in a low voice:
— "The shipment this time is unlike any other, Robert. We are talking about three tons of pure cocaine, coming directly from the jungles of Colombia. The problem is not the quantity, but the transit route. The authorities have tightened surveillance on the 'Terminal' port, so we will have to use the 'Ghost Road' via the border tunnels we dug last summer."
I exhaled smoke slowly while examining the map and asked him coldly:
— "And what about the customs officers whose loyalties we bought? Has any of them backed out?"
Carlos replied while stroking his thick mustache:
— "Officer Sanchez has been neutralized, but the new replacement is an ambitious young man and wants double the amount. The shipment will move in boxes hidden under heavy medical equipment bound for the city's hospitals. No one suspects ambulances or trucks carrying the Red Cross logo."
Carlos was talking about millions of dollars and a risk that could end big heads, but my mind was involuntarily rebounding to Julie.
— "Robert... are you with me?"
Carlos asked, tapping his cane gently on the marble floor.
"I said we need to secure your dry port in the suburbs for only forty-eight hours, until the shipment is distributed into small cars. Is the port ready?"
I answered him with a mechanical voice, trying to regain my icy mask:
— "The port is ready, and my men there are waiting for your signal. I will send you the coordinates of warehouse number (9) via the encrypted channel tonight. Make sure your men leave no trace; the federal police are lurking for any wrong move."
Carlos nodded, appearing satisfied, but he did not take his eyes off me.
Carlos placed his hand on Julie's file, pulled it slowly from across the desk, and examined it thoroughly, while I watched him with complete coldness.
I did not feel jealousy or the urge to possess, for to me she is no more than a number in a deal, but Carlos let out a short laugh and said:
— "I see you've brought a new girl to the club."
I took the cigar from my mouth and exhaled its smoke slowly, replying in a dry, business-like tone:
— "She is an investment, but she is still under breaking-in. You know, Carlos, that the club's reputation is my capital; I cannot present rebellious or unstable goods to my clients. The customer pays to command and be obeyed, not to enter into a brawl with a wild girl."
Carlos stopped at a specific page in the file, and a heavy silence prevailed, broken only by the sound of my steady breathing.
Suddenly, he raised his head, his gaze gleaming with a predatory spark, and said as he placed his hand heavily over her picture:
— "So she is a virgin girl... do not sell her to anyone, Robert. I will buy her myself when she is ready."
My hand, which was about to flick the cigar ash, froze. This was not just a passing whim; it was an "offer" from a man whose requests are never refused.
I looked at Carlos, trying to read what lay behind his Mexican mask; was he speaking out of greed, or did he want to test the extent of my attachment to this deal?
I replied in a calm voice, cloaked in a coldness that revealed nothing of what was going on inside me:
— "Carlos, you know that I do not sell 'rare pieces' before the polishing process is complete. Julie is still far from being ready for anyone, even for you."
Carlos laughed a short laugh, still staring at the file:
— "I love challenges, Robert, and rebellious girls are my favorite hobby. Put my name down as the first bidder for her, and do not worry about the price... you know that I pay generously when it comes to owning something that no one else possesses."
I felt a tightness I couldn't explain. It wasn't jealousy in the emotional sense, but rather the feeling of a merchant who sees that his "merchandise" has become coveted by everyone before he has even decided how he will use it.
I said to him in a decisive tone to end this conversation:
— "We will discuss this matter when the time comes, my friend. Now, let us not let a 'girl' distract us from the port deal that will bring us many times what you might pay for any woman."
After Carlos closed the door behind him, a heavy silence hung over the office, but the words "I will buy her myself" were still ringing in my ears like a hidden threat.
The idea of selling a girl who is still "under breaking-in" is an idea I do not want to introduce into my world—not out of pity, but out of professionalism and the rules upon which I built my name.
In my dictionary, no goods leave my hands unless they are "complete," submissive, and broken enough to be at the beck and call of their new owner.
To sell Julie now while she is at the peak of her rebellion means that I failed to break her, and it means that Carlos will take over that task instead of me.
Regardless of our friendship, I do not accept anyone finishing a job that I started.
Julie, for me, has become a personal challenge before being a commercial deal; she is that piece that refuses to be shaped, and as much as her rebellion annoys me, it tempts me to stay until I see that moment when the flame of defiance in her eyes is extinguished.
I crushed my cigar violently in the marble ashtray and muttered to myself:
— "Not yet, Carlos... Julie will not go to anyone while she is this wild. I will break this pride first, and I will make her realize that I am the only person who decides her fate, not your tempting offer."