Page 68 of Bound in Possession

Camilla arches an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Don't tell me you organized a playlist too, Pakhan. Or do you only dance when it helps you intimidate someone on the floor?"

"Is that a challenge, princess?" I ask, setting my glass down on the white linen.

"Maybe it is," she hums, tilting her head. "I just can't picture you moving to music unless there's a threat attached."

Without a word, I stand up from the table, smoothing the front of my tailored suit jacket. I step around the candelabra-lit table and extend my open hand down to her.

Camilla looks at my outstretched palm, her dark eyes flashing with a mix of surprise and lingering defiance. But she places her hand in mine. I pull her up smoothly, leading her away from the table and into the wide, open aisle between the empty, velvet-draped dining booths.

At first, the dance is stiff, almost a battle of wills. Camilla moves with a sharp, mocking grace, trying to provoke me—tilting her chin up, testing my grip, seeing how far she can push the stoic Bratva leader. I keep my frame tight and controlled, my expression locked in a stoic mask as I guide her through the steps, refusing to let her throw me off balance.

"You're stiff, Maksim," she murmurs, her breath hot against my collarbone as she tries to lead.

"I am adapting to my partner," I rumble back, my hand pressing firmly into the small of her back, holding her right where I want her.

Slowly, the playful friction begins to melt away.

The dining room is dimly lit, illuminated only by the flickering golden glow of our table's candelabras and the distant city lights beyond the tall glass windows. There are no guards watching, no rival bosses to posture for, no elders to convince, and no audience to perform for. It is just the two of us, suspended in the quiet darkness of the night.

Her hand softens in my grip. Her eyes soften, locking onto mine with a raw, unshielded trust that pulls the remaining air right out of my lungs. My grip on her waist loosens, turning gentle, guiding her effortlessly across the polished floor.

The music swells, building into a powerful, breathtaking crescendo.

I pull her close, then send her spinning outward in a smooth, sweeping twirl. Her dark hair fanning out around her face, her laughter catching in her throat, her dress catching the golden light—and as I draw her back flush against my chest, her hand resting over my hammering heart, the realization hits me with the force of a freight train.

This woman isn't just an asset. She isn't just a political pawn in a war against her father, or a responsibility I inherited to prove my strength to the elders.

She means far more to me than I ever realized. And God help anyone who tries to take her from me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CAMILLA

The slow song fades into silence, I find myself completely melting into Maksim's arms.

His hold on me is surprisingly soft, devoid of the iron control he usually wraps around everything in his life. The playful challenge between us has evaporated, leaving behind a quiet, intensely charged stillness that makes my heart pound against my ribs.

Looking up into his dark, focused eyes, the reality hits me—he is truly trying. Even if he doesn't fully know how to be normal, even if security codes and lockdowns are his native language, he is trying for me.

The music dies out entirely.

Maksim doesn't pull away right away. Instead, he leans down, his warm lips pressing gently against my forehead in a lingering kiss that feels more tender than anything we've shared tonight. When he pulls back, we just stare at each other, the unspoken words heavy and thick in the space between us.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re back in the leather-scented quiet of his dark SUV, speeding down the empty highway toward the estate.

Neither of us says a word. The heavy silence between us isn't cold or tense—it’s entirely comfortable. His massive, warm hand is wrapped around mine, our fingers tightly laced together on the center console. I lean my head back against the leather seat, watching the city lights blur past the tinted window, a soft sigh escaping my chest.

I can't even remember the last time I felt this genuinely happy, or this deeply at rest.

When we pull up to the estate and step into the grand foyer, the warm, floating feeling inside me instantly shatters.

Lydia is standing in the middle of the room, looking effortlessly stunning in a sheer, curve-hugging jumpsuit with a tailored designer jacket draped casually over her shoulders. Her dark eyes sweep over us, lingering on our laced fingers before settling on Maksim.

Maksim’s posture instantly hardens, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. "What are you doing here, Lydia?" his voice drops into a cold, lethal register.

"I have information about Viktor," she says smoothly, crossing her arms. She shifts her gaze toward me with a slow, patronizing smirk before flicking her eyes back to Maksim, clearly implying she needs him alone. "It's urgent. In private, Maksim."

Part of me braces for him to send me upstairs, to handle his business with her behind closed doors the way men like him always do. But Maksim doesn't let go of my hand.