Chapter 7 The Exchange

“Did you investigate me? The last person who tried to do that ended up as fertilizer in my garden!” As Zevan spoke, he bit back the pain and swiftly pulled out a handgun from the drawer of his desk. The dark muzzle of the gun was aimed directly at Minerva's head. The coldness emanating from the gun's barrel seemed to pierce through Minerva's skin. She could feel her heartbeat momentarily halt, and her body instinctively broke out in cold sweat. There's nothing to be afraid of! Minerva reassured herself. She knew she couldn't show fear. Battling against her body's natural instinct to flee, she forced herself to step forward, slowly walking toward the gun's muzzle. In the end, she even pressed her forehead against the barrel. At that moment, Minerva's heart seemed ready to leap out of her chest. She was taking a gamble that this mafia boss wouldn't kill her for real. “Is that so? The moment you said those words, I knew you wouldn't kill me. Boss, I can help you treat your sleep disorder.” Minerva's voice quivered slightly, but it carried an undeniable determination. In truth, her hands were clenched tightly at her sides, her nails digging deeply into her palms, drawing out a few drops of blood. No one could truly remain unafraid when facing the mafia boss's gun. “Mrs. Lemieux! Are you trying to get yourself killed? Leave now!” Francis was frantic, veins bulging on his forehead, his hands clenched into fists. It was clear he wanted to pull Minerva away. However, in front of Zevan, he dared not overstep the rules, especially not when Zevan was having an episode. As a mafia boss, Zevan had encountered countless women. But this was the first time he had encountered such a beautiful, stubborn, and fearless woman. Her eyes locked onto his without a hint of fear, and from her pupils, he clearly saw his own anger and frustration reflected. In that moment, his mind was filled with conflicting emotions. On one hand, his instincts told him this woman was no ordinary person, especially since she had the audacity to challenge his authority. That thought fueled his rage, making him wish he could pull the trigger immediately. He thought that perhaps killing her would be the only way to quell the fury burning inside him. But on the other hand, her calm and confidence sparked a flicker of curiosity in him. Could she really cure his condition? This conflicting emotion was enough to make his hand tremble slightly. The trigger was right beneath his finger. A gentle squeeze, and the bullet could pierce through her forehead. “You're interesting.” The cold barrel of the gun slowly lifted away from her forehead. Strangely, in the tense standoff with this woman, he felt something shift inside him. The fury that had been boiling over just moments ago now seemed to ease, or at least scatter, like storm clouds thinning before rain. Zevan tossed the gun aside and sank into the couch. He... wasn't in so much pain anymore. Minerva let out a quiet breath. Only then did she realize her legs were trembling. She'd done it. At least for now, she had earned Zevan's trust. Steadying her breath, she walked around to stand behind him. Then she gently raised her slender fingers and pressed them against his temples, beginning to massage him. Zevan closed his striking eyes, concealing the bloodshot red that lingered in them. “This massage of yours... is that what you call treatment?” “It seems like you're quite satisfied with my massage.” “If I'm not satisfied, I'll kill you the moment your hand touches my skin.” Minerva fell silent. Ugh, this is annoying. He keeps talking about killing people. “Sir, how about we make a deal? Let me stay, and we'll get along peacefully. You don't ask about my personal affairs, and in return, I'll play along in front of Grandma and help you treat your insomnia. What do you say?” “Deal? Are you sure you're in any position to negotiate with me?” Zevan's crimson gaze locked onto Minerva, a mix of scrutiny and amusement in his eyes. It felt as though he was weighing her courage and sincerity. At the word “deal”, the air in the room seemed to freeze, so still one could hear nothing but the sound of their breathing. Everyone knows the mafia would never make a deal that did not profit them.