Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
MAKSIM
"I’m not mad, Dmitri, I’m fucking enraged," I growl, pacing the length of my study while Dmitri watches me from across the desk. "They were waiting for us. That wasn't a random patrol."
Dmitri steps up to the desk, his expression hard as stone.
"I had our men check the traffic cams through our secure feed. The SUV was registered to a shell corporation in Queens—one of Viktor’s old laundering fronts.
They were definitely his men. They didn't strike because they realized our transport was fully armored, but they were scanning for a weak point. "
"Viktor is getting desperate," I say, stopping by the window and staring out over the dark grounds of the estate. A dangerous heat fires through my veins. "He lost the auction, he lost the Caruso alliance, and now he’s realizing the East Coast is slipping through his fingers. He’s trying to test my response time. "
"The security plan for the gala tonight needs an immediate overhaul," Dmitri advises, pulling up the venue schematics on his tablet. "If Viktor is willing to shadow your car in broad daylight, he won't hesitate to make a scene at a high-society event."
"Double the perimeter guards," I command, turning back to him with absolute finality. "Put our best marksmen on the rooftops surrounding the venue. I want extra clearance on every single caterer, waiter, and guest entering that ballroom. If anyone looks at Camilla the wrong way, erase them."
"Understood. I will make sure she’s safe,” he says. “You don’t have to worry.”
I wish I didn’t have to worry.
But for some reason, when it comes to this woman, I’m a ball of nerves. I hate it. This isn’t me. I am the Pakhan of the Bratva; I don't get nervous, and I certainly don't let anyone affect my peace of mind.
I try to tell myself it’s strictly because she’s an investment. Twenty million dollars is a fucking huge sum, even for me, but a dark, persistent voice in the back of my head tells me it runs a little deeper than that.
Seeing her red eyes when we left the house and the raw fear in them this afternoon after the chase... it made my blood boil. All I wanted to do was hold her close and promise her that she will forever be safe under my watch.
"We're changing the timeline," I say, the decision hardening in my chest. "Two weeks is too long. Waiting gives Viktor too much time to strike again, to find a vulnerability, or to coordinate a hit. The wedding happens in three days."
Dmitri's eyebrows shoot up, a rare look of surprise crossing his disciplined features. "Three days? That is an incredibly tight turnaround for an alliance of this scale."
"Make it happen," I command flatly. "And call Massimo. Pass the message along to him. Let him know."
Dmitri hesitates for a fraction of a second, shifting his weight. "And Camilla? How will she take it?"
I turn toward the window, staring out into the sprawling courtyard as the evening shadows begin to stretch across the lawn.
She’ll go crazy if I tell her. I already know.
She absolutely hates not being able to make a single decision for herself, and lately, she’s been continuously cheated out of any semblance of control over her own life
First her father, then the auction, then me. But this isn't my fault. This is about keeping her alive.
I turn back to Dmitri, my expression cold and unyielding. "She'll survive it. And don’t forget to call the wedding planner."
We’ve only just arrived back from the planner’s store about an hour ago, after spending hours going over all the boring, tedious wedding arrangements. I fight back a smile when I remember how Camilla had looked ready to tear her hair out over flower arrangements and fabric swatches.
The planner thought she had two full weeks to prepare everything, but now that it’s down to three days, she better fucking hire a magician to help her work things out.
There’s nothing else I can do about it. The reality of our world is brutal. I need to marry Camilla and bind our families together before Viktor gets the upper hand, and if I have to drag her to the altar to keep her safe, that is exactly what I will do.
"Do you have what I asked?" I ask Dmitri, holding out my hand.
"Yes." He walks across the room to my desk, pulls back the bottom drawer, and takes out a sleek, premium smartphone.
It’s brand new, but it’s already been completely fortified with our encrypted communication software and tracking chips.
I had Dmitri get it for Camilla as a peace offering.
Especially after witnessing the horrific way her father treated her at lunch, I finally understand why she is so desperate to contact her sisters.
She needs them. They are her only anchor.
To make sure the gift actually hits home, I also had Dmitri reach out to Massimo and request Camilla's sisters' contact numbers, pre-saving them onto the new device.
I hope at least this makes her happy.
I frown down at the phone in my hand, a sudden, unsettling realization hitting me like a physical blow.
That is exactly why I did it. To make her happy.
To see her smile. I haven’t seen her smile a genuine smile since she got here—not once.
Only those sharp, sarcastic smirks she uses to guard herself.
For some reason, the thought of earning a real one from her makes my chest tighten.
Dismissing Dmitri with a sharp nod, I leave the office and head down the long hallway toward my bedroom. I should go prepare for the gala tonight; the clock is ticking and my suit is already laid out.
But I have to see Camilla first.
I head into the bedroom to see her curled up on the bed, her head buried in a book. The sight instantly reminds me of Nastya, and how she used to always have her nose in a novel.
"There's a new arrangement," I say, closing the door behind me and stepping into the room.
She narrows her eyes, a cynical edge immediately returning to her beautiful features. She sets the book down on her lap. "Let me guess. You've decided to move up the wedding? I wouldn't be surprised at this point."
Well, damn.
"The wedding has been moved to three days from now," I state flatly, watching her face closely. "Your father has already been alerted."
Camilla blows up.
She leaps off the bed, the book tumbling to the floor as she glares at me with pure, unadulterated fury. "Three days?!" she whispers, unable to believe it as she advances toward me.
"Maksim, this is getting too much, too quickly. You can’t just rearrange my entire life every time you have a sudden whim!"
She stops right in front of me, her chest heaving as she points a trembling finger at my chest. " I haven't even processed the fact that I was sold at an auction, and now you're forcing me down an aisle before the week is over?
I don't get a choice in who I marry, when I marry, or how I live my life anymore.”
"It is not a whim," I say, my voice dropping, low and dangerous, as I step into her space. "Viktor is after us. The attack this afternoon proves that he is tracking our movements. We cannot delay. A public alliance strips him of his leverage and forces the other families to fall in line."
"Then let me go!" she says back, her eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and desperation. "Viktor is after you because you have me! If I'm such a liability, let me out of your life! Let me go!"
I feel a sharp frisson of annoyance rip through my chest. I am trying to be gentle with her.
I am trying to provide a fortress, an elite security detail, a brand new fortified phone just so she can hear her sisters' voices—and she is standing here pushing my absolute limits, demanding to plunge headfirst into a meat grinder.
"So you want to be with Viktor? Is that it?" I snap, the brutal edge in me taking the wheel as I close the remaining distance between us.
I tower over her, my shadow swallowing her whole.
"Because princess, let’s be entirely clear about the reality of your situation: it is either one of us.
You know that. It’s either me, or it is Viktor.
If you are so desperate to be hitched to a monster, maybe it’s time I stop treating you like a fucking gentleman and start treating you like the monster you think I am. Huh? How about that?"
The venom in my voice echoes off the walls, heavy and suffocating.
She stops. The angry words die on her lips and she just stares up at me. The fiery defiance in her eyes suddenly flickers, caught between the lingering heat of her rage and the sudden, chilling reminder of exactly whose bedroom she is standing in.
“Don’t fucking push me, Camilla," I growl, leaning down until we are practically breathing the same air. "You see I’ve been gentle with you, and that’s not who I am. If you think I’m going to let you go, then maybe it’s time I stop pretending and let you in on who I really am.”
The silence stretching between us is taut enough to snap. I hold her gaze for one more long, agonizing second, letting the threat hang heavily in the room. Then, reaching into my jacket, I pull out the sleek, black smartphone and throw it onto the bed. It lands with a soft thud right on the sheets.
Her eyes widen as her gaze darts from the mattress back up to my face.
“That’s a new smartphone," I say, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "It’s yours. Your sisters' contacts are already saved on it.”
Before she can process the gesture, before the shock on her face can turn into anything else, I turn on my heel and march out of the room, slamming the heavy door shut behind me before my annoyance gets the best of me.