Page 18 of Bound in Possession

I expect him to argue. I expect the ruthless Pakhan who just threatened to slaughter my father to snap back, to remind me of my place, or to use that terrifying, quiet dominance to silence me.

Instead, he looks at me for a long, unreadable second and takes a deliberate step back.

"Meet me downstairs in five minutes," he says, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "We need to see the planner so we can return in time to prepare for the gala."

He turns on his heel and walks out, closing the heavy bedroom door behind him.

The moment the latch clicks, the fragile armor I’ve been holding up all day cracks. Hot tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I press a hand to my mouth to stifle a sob.

I feel so utterly alone. I haven’t even spoken to my sisters. My old phone is gone, forgotten in the Caruso estate back in Sicily, and I have no way to reach them. They must be sick with worry, and here I am trapped in a luxurious fortress.

I look at the beautiful dress on the bed, feeling a profound, heavy weight in my chest.

I realize there’s absolutely nothing I can do right now but obey. The one person who was supposed to protect me, who was supposed to fight for me—my own father—is obviously not looking out for my interests. He never has. If my own blood can trade me away like an asset, then I have no safety net left.

My best bet at surviving this world right now is obeying Maksim. At least Maksim's boundaries, as terrifying as they are, offer a strange kind of shelter.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I wipe my tears and force myself to look presentable.

Five minutes later, I meet him downstairs in the grand foyer. He doesn't say a word about my slightly red eyes, simply gesturing toward the front door.

We step outside into the crisp afternoon air, slide into the plush leather interior of the waiting car, and pull away down the long, tree-lined driveway.

The silence inside the vehicle is heavy, the air thick with everything we aren't saying. I stare out the window, watching the New York landscape blur past, trying to mentally prepare myself for a meeting with a wedding planner I don't want to see.

Suddenly, Dmitri’s eyes snap to the rearview mirror. His posture changes instantly, turning into a rigid line of pure military tension.

"Pakhan," Dmitri says, his voice low and sharp. "Black SUV, three cars back. It's been trailing our lane changes since we hit the highway. We have a tail."

Maksim reacts instantly, his eyes darkening as the ruthless commander takes over. Without a shred of hesitation, he reaches out, his massive hand gripping the back of my neck, and forcefully but carefully pushes me down across the leather seat.

"Stay down, Camilla. Do not move," he orders, his voice a gravelly command that leaves no room for argument.

He immediately leans over me, using his own large body as a physical shield to block me from the windows, while his other hand draws a sleek, black firearm from beneath his jacket.

"Alex, take the next exit now," Maksim barks at the driver. "Dmitri, prepare the secondary convoy for intercept."

"Sir, they're speeding up," Alex warns, his knuckles tight on the steering wheel.

The engine roars to life as our driver slams on the gas. The armored car swerves violently to the right, tires screeching against the asphalt as we execute a dangerous, aggressive turn onto a narrow side street.

My heart leaps into my throat, my fingers digging desperately into the leather seats as the force of the momentum throws me against Maksim's solid chest. I can barely see through the windshield.

Another sharp, blind turn sends the car careening down an alleyway, bypassing the main traffic altogether. Alex pushes the vehicle to its absolute limits, weaving through a maze of roads and making a sudden, last-second route change toward the secure underground parking garage of a high-rise building.

With one final, breathless turn, we plunge into the darkness of the parking structure. The tires echo loudly against the concrete as we slide into a private, gated bay. The heavy security grilles slam shut behind us, sealing us inside.

"Tail lost," Dmitri breathes, scanning the security monitors. "They blew past the intersection. We're clear."

I am absolutely terrified. My breath is coming in ragged, shallow gasps, and the phantom sound of gunfire from the auction house echoes in my mind. But I refuse to show it. I clamp my jaw shut and force my expression into a cold mask, desperate not to let him see me break.

Maksim notices anyway.

He doesn't move away immediately. He stays hovering over me, his eyes tracking the rapid rise and fall of my chest, seeing straight through my stubborn defiance. Dmitri steps out of the car, and so does Alex, leaving us alone.

Slowly, Maksim slides his firearm back into his holster. His large, warm hand moves from my neck to my cheek, his thumb gently tracing my jawline, forcing me to look up into his gaze.

"Look at me, princess," he murmurs, his voice surprisingly steady, deep, and laced with a quiet intensity that somehow cuts through the panic. "You're safe. I told you, you are under my protection now. No one touches what belongs to me."