Page 5 of Bound in Possession

I button my suit jacket and look down at Viktor, my voice dropping to a deadly, quiet whisper. "The Sokolovs never start fights. But we sure as hell never shy away from them either. I urge you to make the best decision for yourself."

Without waiting for his answer, I turn around and walk away. I am heading straight back to that auction room to buy a bride.

I enter the auction room and stay completely in the shadows, not interacting with a single soul. My back is pressed against the dark wall near the exit, my arms crossed as I blend into the background.

A few minutes later, I see Viktor reenter the room. He struts around like he owns the fucking place, slapping hands, laughing loudly, and talking to other syndicate heads like he’s already the king of the underworld. I stay hidden, watching his every move through the thick crowd.

Soon, the auction itself starts.

The heavy bass of the microphone echoes through the subterranean ballroom. One by one, the other women are brought out again, and the powerful men in the room throw around millions like it’s pocket change. People bid fiercely for the other women while I bide my time, keeping my eyes fixed on the stage.

Then, the lights shift.

The auctioneer’s voice booms over the microphone, shattering the brief silence in the room. "Next up, we have Lot Number Four. Camilla Caruso. Bidding starts at five million dollars."

Viktor doesn't even wait for the man to finish. He raises his paddle with a smug, arrogant grin stretching across his face. "Six million!" he shouts, sitting back like a king.

An older Italian boss in the front row raises his hand. "Six and a half."

"Seven!" Viktor barks back instantly, his voice cutting through the crowd. He looks around the room, glaring at anyone else who might dare to challenge him.

Another arms broker from the back raises his paddle for seven and a half, but Viktor stamps him out without a second thought. "Eight and a half million!"

The room starts to go quiet. Eight and a half million dollars for a single woman is an insane amount of money, even for this crowd. The auctioneer looks around, his eyes scanning the tables. "Eight and a half million, going once... eight and a half million, going twice..."

Viktor turns in his seat, a disgusting, victorious smile spreading across his lips. He looks over at his men, nodding as if the prize is already in his hands. He thinks he has won her. He thinks he just secured his alliance with the Carusos.

Just when the auctioneer raises his wooden gavel to seal the deal, I step out of the shadows.

"Ten million," I say.

My voice isn't loud, but it cuts straight through the room like a bullet.

Viktor whips his head around with absolute shock. His jaw drops, his bloodshot eyes widening when they land on me standing by the exit. The smug smile vanishes from his face, replaced by instant, raw fury.

"Ten and a half!" Viktor roars, slamming his glass down on the table. He stands up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Ten and a half million!"

I don't even blink. I keep my hands in my pockets and look him dead in the eye. "Twelve."

"Fourteen million!" Viktor screams, his face turning a dark, ugly shade of red. Veins bulge out of his neck as he glares across the room at me. "Fourteen million dollars!"

The crowd whispers, the tension in the room growing so thick it is hard to breathe. Everyone is watching the two Bratva leaders pull knives on each other with their bank accounts.

"Sixteen," I reply, my voice perfectly smooth, steady, and deadpan.

"Seventeen!" Viktor barks, his voice cracking under the strain. He is breathing heavily now, his sweat glistening under the harsh lights.

"Twenty," I say instantly.

I don't pause. I don't hesitate. I don't give him room to breathe. I am bleeding him dry in front of the entire underworld, and he knows it.

Viktor stares at me, his fists shaking at his sides. He opens his mouth to shout another number, but one of his men grabs his elbow, whispering frantically into his ear. Viktor looks down at the man, then looks back at me, his eyes filled with pure, murderous hatred. But he doesn't raise his voice again. His reckless pockets simply cannot handle the strain.

The auctioneer’s gavel slams down against the wooden podium with a loud crack.

"Sold! For twenty million dollars, to Maksim Sokolov."

I outbid the bastard. I win Camilla Caruso.