Page 28 of Bound in Possession

"I still cannot believe you are marrying a Bratva Pakhan in forty-eight hours," Sienna says, violently stabbing a grilled asparagus spear with her fork. "Two days, Camilla! It’s insane. Dad has officially lost his mind if he thinks this is just another standard family arrangement."

"Sienna, lower your voice," Rosalia warns, though her own eyes are wide with the same residual shock. She takes an elegant sip of her red wine, her gaze sweeping over the lavish spread covering our table.

We are sitting in a secluded, semi-private booth near the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows of The Obsidian, one of the most exclusive, high-end restaurants in the city.

The entire place belongs to Maksim. True to his word, his men are stationed subtly near the entrance and the perimeter, but inside this booth, wrapped in the rich scents of truffle pasta, seared steak, and expensive champagne, the world outside doesn’t matter.

For the first time in a long time, I am surrounded by all my sisters.

"Let her vent," Daniela chimes in, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. Her touch is warm, solid, and so fiercely grounding that it takes everything in me not to burst into tears right here over the appetizers. "We've all been losing our minds since we got the news. Are you sure you're okay, Camilla? Really okay?"

"I am," I say, and for the first time, I actually mean it.

Looking at them—Sienna’s fiery indignation, Rosalia’s protective vigilance, Daniela’s gentle warmth, and Eleonora’s quiet, supportive presence—the suffocating weight in my chest lifts. I take a bite of the perfectly cooked pasta, the familiar comfort of our chaotic, overlapping chatter wrapping around me like a security blanket.

"He's terrifying," Eleonora murmurs, leaning forward. "We saw the news from the gala last night. The way the papers described him..."

"He is terrifying," I reply softly, swirling the champagne in my glass. I think of the cold, dead-eyed stare he gave that underboss last night, the absolute fear he commands with a single glance. But then, my mind betrays me, flashing back to the locked bathroom, the rough warmth of his hands, and the way he fiercely declared that he hadn't looked at another woman since Sicily.

"But... he keeps me safe. He connected me back to you guys. Dad never would have allowed this."

Sienna scoffs, though her expression softens as she reaches over to steal a piece of bread from my plate, an old childhood habit that makes me smile. "Don't start defending him just because he bought us dinner, Cami."

"I'm not," I laugh, the sound bright and unburdened. "Trust me, I'm not. He’s arrogant, overbearing, and an absolute caveman."

"Sounds like the typical men in our world," Rosalia notes, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through her serious facade.

She reaches across the table, her fingers squeezing my other hand until all of us are practically linked together over the plates of food.

"But whatever happens, whatever he tries to do, you remember that you have us. We are your blood. Transactional marriage or not, the Caruso sisters stick together."

"Always," Daniela echoes, her eyes shining with emotion.

Looking at them, feeling the fierce, unyielding wall of love protecting me from across the table, the lingering fear of the upcoming wedding fades into the background. I am not alone anymore.

No matter how dangerous the world gets, I have my sisters, and right now, laughing and passing dishes around the table, we are entirely whole.

"So," Sienna starts, leaning her elbows on the table and giving me a pointed look, "what's the deal with the wedding prep? Have you chosen the flowers yet? Please tell me you aren't letting some random Russian decorator pick out basic white roses."

"Actually, it's all underway and being completely handled by a high-end wedding planner Maksim hired," I reply, taking a slow sip of my water. "We visited, I told her all my preferences and I’m just letting her handle the rest."

Sienna scoffs loudly, throwing her hands up in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? I can't believe this! Camilla, you were practically a drill sergeant during my wedding prep. You wanted to choose every single detail, down to the jewelry. You almost fought me on that one."

“She did fight me about that!” Daniela laughs.

I let out a genuine laugh, the memory warming my chest. "Well, now that I'm actually the one who's going to be the bride, things feel a little too real. Honestly? I really don't care about the flowers or the decor. I just want the whole circus done and over with."

"Fair enough," Rosalia says softly, offering an understanding nod. "Given the circumstances, keeping it low-stress is probably for the best."

We fall back into our usual rhythm, laughing over old childhood memories, gossiping about people, and talking about completely random things. For a couple of hours, I am just Camilla—not a captive, not a political pawn, and certainly not the future wife of a ruthless Pakhan.

But reality has a way of reminding you exactly where you belong.

Deep inside my handbag, my phone begins to vibrate against the leather. I don't even need to pull it out to know who it is. The rhythmic buzzing continues, cutting through our laughter.

It's Maksim.

I deliberately ignore it, keeping my eyes fixed on Daniela as she finishes telling a hilarious story about her chaotic week. The phone stops, pauses for a few seconds, and then begins to vibrate all over again. He is getting impatient. Let him wait.