Page 17 of Bound in Possession

"And there is one more thing," I add, my gaze drifting briefly to Camilla before locking back onto her father's face. The finality in my tone leaves no room for debate. "I intend to marry Camilla in two weeks. Prepare your family. The wedding will be public, and the alliance will be sealed."

Massimo’s gaze instantly snaps to Camilla. The rejection of his terms sits heavy in the air, and because he knows he can't lash out at me without starting a war he cannot win, he decides to redirect his venom at her instead.

His face contorts into a mask of pure cruelty. “Look at you, sitting there like a mute doll,” he says. “You’re a complete waste, Camilla. I guess this arrangement is already way more than I expected for your name.”

Beside me, Camilla’s shoulders flinch slightly, her eyes widening as the harsh words cut deep.

Before the bastard can utter another syllable, I slam my hand down on the mahogany table. The loud crack echoes like a gunshot through the room, making the porcelain rattle and causing Massimo's guards to instantly move their hands toward their holsters.

Dmitri's hand goes straight to his jacket, his eyes locked on the target.

I stand up, towering over the table, a cold, lethal fury vibrating through my veins. The room drops to a freezing temperature.

"Watch your mouth, Massimo," I say, my voice dropping into a dangerous, razor-sharp whisper that leaves no doubt about my intentions. "You are speaking to the future matriarch of the Sokolov Bratva. I forbid you from speaking to her in that tone ever again."

Massimo freezes, his face draining of color as he looks up into my eyes. For the first time, he sees the completely ruthless side of the Pakhan—the side that doesn't negotiate, the side that tears down empires without a second thought. He looks around the room, realizing my guards are already positioned to paint the walls with his men's blood if he makes a single wrong move.

The illusion of his power shatters completely. His weakening control is on display for everyone in the room to see, his authority over his own daughter stripped away and claimed by me.

"She is under my protection now," I growl, leaning forward so he can see the absolute finality in my stare. "Even from you. If you insult my future wife again under my roof, you won't live to tell the tale.”

Massimo rises slowly to his feet, his jaw clamped shut so tightly the muscles twitch. He straightens the lapels of his suit jacket, attempting to piece together his shattered dignity, but the slight tremor in his fingers betrays him. He knows he has lost this round, but he is too proud of a man to leave without trying to draw blood.

"You play a dangerous game, Pakhan," Massimo says, his voice a low, bitter hiss. "You think you’re untouchable behind your walls and your soldiers, but let’s not pretend this is a romance. I know exactly why you bought Camilla. You need the Caruso alliance just as much as Viktor did."

He pauses, cutting a brief, cold glance toward his daughter before his eyes snap back to mine.

"Tread carefully, Maksim," he warns, backing away from the table toward his waiting guards. "Push me too far, and this alliance will not favor either of us. It will tear both our houses down."

With that parting shot, he turns on his heel and storms out of the dining room. His two guards fall into step right behind him, the heavy double doors clicking shut in their wake.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CAMILLA

By the time I get to our bedroom, there’s a beautiful dress waiting for me on the bed. It’s accompanied by a pair of sleek, high-end heels and a jewelry set that sparkles under the chandelier light. I stare at it, a bitter taste in my mouth, wondering why on earth this is here. After the excruciating lunch I just endured, I am absolutely not in the mood for any more of Maksim's surprises.

The weight of the afternoon settles heavily onto my shoulders. I just found out I’m marrying the Pakhan of the Bratva in two weeks, and that my father has always held the notion that nothing good will ever come out of me.

I want to tell myself that his words don’t hurt. I want to believe I'm immune to it because I’ve always known what he truly thinks about me—about all of his daughters. But it still leaves a raw, aching hollow in my chest that I hate myself for feeling.

Exhausted, I lower myself onto the edge of the mattress, burying my face in my hands. Just as I’m about to get completely lost in my dark thoughts, the heavy bedroom door swings open and Maksim enters.

I look up, and for the first time, I see him differently.

He defended me today.

He stood up to my father, risking a vital alliance just to shut down Massimo's cruelty. It is the only time in my entire life that anyone has ever defended me outside of my sisters.

For a fleeting, foolish second, a spark of hope flares up in my chest. Maybe he isn’t just a monster. Maybe he’s different after all.

Then he opens his mouth, and the illusion shatters.

"Get ready," he says smoothly. "We are supposed to meet the wedding planner in an hour and after that, we are attending a charity gala tonight. I need to present you publicly as my fiancée before the rumor mill takes over."

The brief warmth I felt for him vanishes, replaced by a surge of pure, defensive rage. I snap, rising to my feet. "A gala? A wedding planner? Are you serious right now?"

I step toward him, my voice trembling with the sheer frustration of being handled like cargo. "Every single decision in my life has already been made for me! My father sold me, you bought me, and now you’re parading me around New York like a shiny new trophy you won at a game. Can’t I have just one day to breathe?”