Page 67 of Bound in Possession

Honesty isn't a currency I deal in often. In my world, raw truth is leverage—a weakness someone can press a knife against. As I look into her dark, expectant eyes, I'm not sure I can give her the level of transparency she’s asking for. I just hope to God she keeps it light and doesn't push into territory too deep for me to navigate without lying.

"Alright," I say slowly, leaning back in my chair, keeping my hand laced in hers. "How do we start?"

Camilla smiles, her dark eyes flashing with playful mischief across the candlelight.

"You go first."

"I don’t know how to play it," I admit, leaning back against my chair. "You ask me first."

She giggles, resting her chin on her free hand while her dark eyes hold mine across the warm candlelight.

"Alright," she says softly, her voice filled with quiet curiosity. "What’s something you’re proud of that most people don’t know?"

I hum, shifting slightly as I fall into silence. The question catches me off guard. People in my position are proud of territory, body counts, power, or line of succession. But none of those answers feel right to give to her tonight. I take a slow sip of my wine, letting the quiet hang between us while I search for something real.

"When I was twenty-two, right in the midst of a power tussle," I say slowly, my voice dropping into a quiet rumble. "The estate was in absolute chaos. Everyone expected me to burn down half the city to assert my dominance. Instead, I quietly secured a clean, legal trust fund for the families of every soldier who died under my father’s reign. No press. No Bratva credit. Just making sure the mothers and children were taken care of without ever having to bow to this life again. Nobody in the council knows I did it. They think it was an offshore loss. I’m very proud of that.”

Camilla’s expression softens completely, a warm, genuine smile spreading across her lips as she nods, visibly touched by the truth.

"Your turn," she says softly.

I look at her, taking in the soft glow of the candlelight against her skin. "What’s a memory that still makes you smile?"

Her smile slowly fades, replaced by a deep, nostalgic quiet that fills the space between us. She looks down at our joined hands for a moment, her thumb lightly tracing my wrist before she speaks.

"The time when my sisters and I were all still living under one roof," she whispers, her eyes shining with a mixture of warmth and ache. "Rosalia, Eleonora, Sienna, Daniela, and me. Before everything got complicated. Before marriages, alliances, and politics."

She lets out a tiny, breathless laugh, looking back up at me. "We used to play padel on the back courts every single weekend, screaming at each other over ridiculous points. We’d crowd into one bedroom at night, blasting music, dancing and singing until our throats hurt, stealing each other’s clothes without asking. It was chaotic, loud, and completely imperfect... but we had each other. That memory still keeps me warm."

I listen to her, processing the vulnerability in her voice. "I know how much your sisters mean to you, Camilla," I say gently, my grip on her fingers tightening just a fraction. "I won't ever separate you from them. Whatever happens with your father or Viktor, that bond stays untouched."

She blinks back the faint sheen in her eyes and smiles softly. "Thank you, Maksim."

"I actually enjoy this game," I say, leaning forward on my elbow, a subtle smirk playing on my lips. "Ask me another question."

She laughs softly, swirling the last of the red wine in her glass before setting it down. She tilts her head, her dark eyes locking onto mine with a sudden, sharper curiosity. "If someone betrayed you once, could they ever earn your trust again?"

I hum, shifting in my seat as the atmosphere shifts back to the brutal realities of my life. I don't hesitate long.

"No," I answer plainly, my voice dropping into a low, firm register. "In my position, a second chance is a luxury I can't afford. Betrayal doesn't just hurt pride—it gets people killed. Once that line is crossed, it's over."

Camilla nods slowly, understanding the weight of the words. "That’s true."

"My turn," I say, turning the tables before the mood gets too heavy. "When was the last time you felt completely safe?"

I expect her to name a time before the auction, or a quiet moment back at her family's villa. But without a second of hesitation, her eyes meet mine, honest and unwavering.

"With you," she says softly. "I always feel completely safe."

A dramatic, mocking gasp slips out of me. I clutch my hand over my chest, widening my eyes in exaggerated shock. "With me? But you prove to be the most difficult woman on the planet every single time I try to keep you safe!"

A rich, melodious laugh bursts out of her, the sound filling the quiet, candlelit restaurant.

"Because your methods are always extreme!" she says through her laughter, pointing a finger at me across the table. "Locking down a mansion for two weeks isn't normal, Pakhan!"

"I can't believe this," I mutter, shaking my head with a genuine laugh of my own, the heavy armor around my chest completely disintegrating in her light. "I give you top-tier Bratva security, and I get accused of being extreme."

She parts her lips, ready to fire back another witty retort, when the quiet atmosphere gently shifts. From the hidden speakers lining the high arched ceiling, a soft, slow melody begins to swell, filling the vast, empty restaurant with low strings and a gentle piano rhythm.