Page 13 of Bound in Possession

The path opens up to a massive, circular courtyard, in the center of which sits a magnificent, tiered stone waterfall cascading into a pristine pool. Behind it stands a mansion—a breathtaking, palatial estate of stone and glass that radiates wealth and absolute power.

The moment we step inside the grand, marble-floored foyer, I turn around before Maksim can even open his mouth to give an order.

"I want to call my sisters," I say, my voice ringing clearly through the vast space. "Right now. I am not staying in this house, and I am absolutely not marrying you."

Maksim hands his coat to a waiting house manager, his expression entirely unbothered. "Your father is flying in tomorrow, Camilla. You can speak to him then. But it will change nothing. You belong to me now, and you will marry me."

"Belong?" The word hits me like a physical slap, fueling a fresh wave of fury. "I am a human being, not a piece of property. Do not use that word with me again."

Maksim steps into my space, his l eyes locked onto mine with finality. "I will not take the word back, princess. Because it is the truth. You belong to me."

"Am I interrupting?"

A soft, melodic voice breaks through the suffocating tension, echoing from the grand staircase.

I tear my gaze away from Maksim to see a young woman descending the stairs. She is delicate but striking, with long, pale-blonde hair cascading past her shoulders and soft features that hide a sharp, observant intelligence in her eyes that are so like Maksim’s. She is dressed in luxury, wearing a pale cream silk pajamas set.

"Leave us, Maksim. You're terrorizing the poor girl," she says, giving her brother a pointed, disapproving look before turning to me with a warm smile. "I'm Anastasia. Most people call me Nastya. I'm this brute's sister."

Maksim lets out a low grunt but surprisingly steps back, offering a tight nod before striding off toward his study, leaving us alone.

I keep my guard up, remaining wary as Nastya approaches. But there is no malice in her face. "Come," she says gently, gesturing deeper into the house. "It’s a bit late, but let me show you around so you at least know where to hide from him."

I let out a soft giggle, the sudden lightness cutting through my lingering panic, as she leads me through a set of French doors and out into a stunning, sprawling garden. The house is fully lit, pushing away the darkness.

The air is sweet with the scent of blooming jasmine. She glances at me, her expression turning somber. “Dmitri already told me everything that happened,” she says softly. “I’m so sorry.”

I nod, looking down at my hands. “I can’t do this. I can’t marry him. I know he’s your brother, but...”

“You don't have to explain,” she sighs, walking over to a vibrant bed of roses and pointing at the pristine white petals. “This is my absolute favorite place in the entire estate. When the men get to be too much, I come out here.”

We stop to admire the flowers, and the tension slowly begins to drain from my shoulders. She casually names some of them—delicate hydrangeas, rare orchids, and perfectly manicured hedges—explaining how she practically begged the estate landscape team to let her design the layout.

Leaving the garden, she walks me around to the back of the mansion, showcasing a massive, resort-style infinity pool that seems to drop off into the manicured woods beyond. We chat about the architecture as she points out the glass facade, and we eventually re-enter the house through a grand set of rear doors.

As she guides me back inside, our conversation flows naturally into the interior decor. I comment on a striking, minimalist sculpture in the hallway, and her eyes light up.

"I actually chose all the art and furniture myself," Nastya admits with a proud smile as we pass a sunlit sitting room adorned with plush, cream-colored sofas and brushed gold accents. "Maksim would have left this place looking like a bleak military bunker if I hadn't stepped in. He has zero appreciation for silk curtains."

"Clearly," I agree, a genuine smile tugging at my lips. "His style seems to lean more toward intimidation.”

Nastya laughs, a clear, ringing sound. "Exactly."

She leads me up the grand, sweeping staircase, continuing the tour of the upper levels. She shows me the state-of-the-art sauna and spa room, a sleek home theater, and finally, she pushes open two massive oak doors to reveal a breathtaking, two-story library lined with thousands of leather-bound books and a rolling ladder.

"If you ever need to completely disappear," Nastya whispers, gesturing to a cozy velvet armchair tucked away in a quiet corner of the bookshelves, "this is the best spot. Do you read?”

I let out a soft sigh, running a hand along the spine of a nearby book. "Not very often, to be honest."

She laughs, waving a hand dismissively as if it doesn't matter at all. "Growing up, I was incredibly overprotected. I was rarely allowed to leave the house, so books became my solace. They were my only way to see the world."

There is a deeper story there—I can tell from the sudden, fleeting flash of sadness in her eyes—but I don’t push. I don’t ask. I know all too well what it’s like to have your boundaries dictated by the men in your family.

As we step back out into the grand hallway, Nastya glances at the antique clock on the wall. "It’s almost midnight. I should let you get some rest. Jet lag is a monster, and you've had a grueling twenty-four hours."

"Thank you, Nastya," I say sincerely.

I am caught entirely off guard when she steps forward and wraps her arms around me in a warm, genuine hug. A wave of comfort washes over me; growing up with my sisters, we have always been big huggers. I immediately lean into the embrace, hugging her back tightly, feeling a rare moment of safety in this strange place.