The truth is, there is no rational answer.
There's no business logic that explains why the thought of Kozlov's cold eyes assessing Camilla makes me want to commit murder. No strategic thinking behind my refusal to let them see the woman I've been pretending to train to please them.
I'm compromised.
Completely, utterly, professionally fucked.
I did this all to myself.
And she knows it.
That's the worst part. The way she looked at me when she asked for feedback of her sucking my cock. The casual way she brought up bondage training, knowing exactly what that would do to me.
Her words haunt me. Every skill you teach me, every technique you show me, every moment of intimacy we share—I'll remember all of it when I'm with them.
I need to end this soon before it destroys me if it hasn’t already.
My phone rings again. Matteo already with an update on buyer arrangements.
"Boss? Kozlov's people confirmed his arrival time. Al-Rashid's assistant wants details about security protocols."
"Standard arrangements. Full discretion, no complications."
"And the viewing timeline?"
"I'm still deciding. The families will come to their senses before it becomes necessary."
"You think they'll pay?"
"They'll pay after they talk to Camilla. She’ll be able to convince them of the hell she’s being sold into. Men like that always pay when their reputations are on the line." I take another sip of scotch. "Alessandro Rossi won't let his family name be associated with this kind of scandal. And Colombo won't let his daughter disappear without trying to save her."
"What if they don't?"
"They will. This is about honor, not just money. Italian families don't abandon blood, no matter how inconvenient. If they continue to stall, we’ll proceed with the viewing as planned.”
I can’t think straight. All I can think about is Camilla asking me to tie her up. Her deliberate provocation about bondage training. The way she's turned every lesson into psychological warfare.
Tomorrow, I have to teach her submission techniques that will prepare her for men who view restraints as ownership tools. I have to bind her to bedposts and demonstrate control while fighting the urge to keep her tied up and never let anyone else touch her.
This whole time, I haven’t let myself think about what happens if and when Alessandro pays up and she goes back to her future groom, Lorenzo.
Sending her back into an arranged marriage isn’t much better than selling her. It’s just packaged better in a prettier box. Another man’s unwanted hands will still be touching her, kissing her.
Fuck.
There’s no way out of this nightmare now. A knock on my door interrupts my spiral. "Come in."
Matteo enters with a tablet and concerned expression. Guess he thought he’d better check in on me.
"Boss, we have the viewing schedules confirmed. Kozlov next Thursday afternoon, Al-Rashid Friday morning."
"Fine."
"There's something else. Kozlov's people sent over specific requirements for the demonstration he wants to see."
I take the tablet and scan the list, my blood turning to ice with each line:
Basic obedience positioning. Responses to dominant commands.
