Chapter 18 #2
I glare at Maksim, silently telling him I can defend myself, before turning to Anatoly.
"I am not finished," I snap, my voice cutting through his interruption like a blade. I lean forward, resting my forearms on the glass table and staring him down until his jaw tightens in surprise.
A collective intake of breath echoes through the room. Beside me, I can feel the dangerous, amused vibration radiating off Maksim, but he doesn't stop me.
I turn my attention back to the digital screen on the wall.
"If Viktor had a mole on your payroll or a modern hack, he would have hit your active high-value vaults—the ones containing the new arms shipments from the docks.
Instead, he hit Warehouse Seven. That facility holds old inventory and transitional freight.
Why? Because the escape route he used only works if those specific city grids are clear, a blueprint my father drew up five years ago and later abandoned. "
I look around the table, meeting the hardened stares of the captains with absolute confidence.
"My father didn't leak Maksim's current files.
He gave Viktor old, classified Caruso intelligence that intersects with your current infrastructure.
Viktor is using a ghost map. If you want to trap him, stop changing your digital firewalls and start baiting the abandoned supply lines. "
A heavy silence blankets the room. The captains look at each other, the initial hostility in their eyes slowly giving way to grudging calculation.
Dmitri studies the screen for a moment, then looks up at Maksim. "She makes sense, Pakhan. If Massimo fed Viktor old data to stir the pot, Viktor is operating on a delayed blueprint. We can use that to feed him a false trail."
The tension in the room shifts as the men reluctantly accept my insight.
For the next hour, the meeting continues with a renewed focus.
The captains stop looking at me like a liability and start treating the information like the weapon it is, mapping out a counterstrategy to feed Viktor the exact bait that will trap his men.
Finally, as the clock nears four o’clock, Maksim stands up, drawing every eye back to the head of the table. His massive frame commands total authority, the air in the room turning ice-cold.
"We have our trap," Maksim growls, his gaze sweeping over his inner circle with a lethal promise.
"But until Viktor takes the bait, I want double guards on every perimeter.
No one sleeps, and everyone stays on high alert.
If a single blade of grass moves near my property without authorization, kill it first and ask questions later. "
He looks down at me, a dark, possessive spark flickering in his gaze. "Meeting adjourned. Get out."
As the captains and guards start to gather their things and leave the room, I push my chair back and stand up, ready to head back. Earlier, just before this meeting, Nastya said she wanted me to go somewhere with her.
"Sit the fuck down, Camilla," Maksim's voice cuts through the rustle of the departing men. It's low, rough, and laced with an edge that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I pause, feeling the heavy vibration of his annoyance rolling off him in waves. Recognizing the danger in his tone, I slowly lower myself back into the leather chair, keeping my expression neutral as the last of the captains exits. Maksim glances at his right-hand man. "Dmitri, leave us."
Dmitri gives a single, knowing nod and steps out, the heavy steel security door sliding shut behind him.
Maksim walks over to the control panel and hits the manual override, locking the door from the inside with a solid, echoing thud. The sterile security room instantly feels much smaller, the air thick with tension. He turns and walks back to my seat, looming over me like a dark shadow.
"Did I not tell you to not open your mouth without my permission?!" he growls.
I swallow hard against the sudden tightness in my throat, but I refuse to let my voice waver. "Maksim, I’m not a figurehead. I’ll open my mouth when I have something to say."
He tilts his head, a dangerous, mocking glint entering his eyes. "Really?"
"Yes," I say, lifting my chin.
"Open your mouth then," he commands flatly.
I blink, thrown off by the sudden shift. "What?"
"Open your fucking mouth, princess," he repeats, his voice dropping into a dark, demanding tone.
I can still feel the heat of his irritation, a raw dominance that tells me he is right on the edge of losing his temper completely. Realizing he isn't playing, I do as I’m told, parting my lips slightly and looking up at him.
"Good. Leave it open like that," he murmurs, his gaze dropping to my lips as his large hands move down to unbuckle his pants.
My heart hitches in my chest, a sudden wave of heat rushing through my veins. "What are you doing?" I ask, my voice muffled.
"I told you to keep it open," Maksim warns, his jaw clenching as he steps closer, his dark shadow completely engulfing me. "Don't make me bend you over this glass desk and spank you, Camilla, or you won't be able to walk to the dinner table tonight. Keep your mouth open."
I swallow my protest, my eyes wide as I lock my gaze onto his, slowly parting my lips again just as he takes a final step forward.
The heavy denim of his pants parts, and his cock spills out, thick, dark, and already fully aroused from the adrenaline of the confrontation. My eyes widen involuntarily, a sudden rush of heat flooding my throat as my mouth instantly waters at the sight.
But I force my expression to harden, pulling a mask of anger over my features. He can't know I like this. He is treating me like a total slut right now, demanding compliance in a sterile war room where men were just plotting a turf war, and yet my pulse is racing.
Why do I like this?
Why does his dominance make me feel so helplessly alive?
Maksim doesn't care about the fury in my eyes.
He wraps his large, thick fingers around his girth, giving it a rough, grounding tug that causes a bead of pre-cum to glisten at the tip.
He steps forward, his thighs pressing against the edge of my chair, and deliberately taps the warm, heavy head of his cock against my cheek.
"Open wider, baby," he orders, his voice twisting into a dark, gravelly vibration that commands absolute submission.
I swallow my pride, my jaw dropping lower as I part my lips fully for him, my breath coming in short, needy gasps.
He lets out a low, satisfied rumble in his chest. "Good girl."
Something about that raw, possessive praise goes straight to my head, obliterating the last of my defense.
The moment he pushes forward, sliding the heavy head of his cock past my lips and onto my tongue, I don't hesitate.
A desperate urge to please him takes over, and I gulp him down immediately, drawing him deep into my throat as my hands grip the leather armrests for balance.
A deep, guttural groan rips from Maksim’s chest, his head throwing back as his fingers bury themselves directly into my hair. The sudden, intense heat of my mouth wrapping around him catches him completely off guard.
"Fucking hell, Camilla," he growls, his voice dropping into a raspy, gravelly register that vibrates right through my skull. "Look at you. Look at my proud little Caruso princess taking me so deep. You like being treated like this, don't you?"
The dirty words should sting, but instead, they spark a wildfire in my belly.
I wrap my hand around the base of his length where my mouth can’t reach, pumping him rhythmically while my tongue swirls around the sensitive ridge of his head.
I suck him harder, my throat tightening around him as I pull him deeper into my mouth.
"Yeah, just like that," Maksim pants, his grip tightening in my hair, anchoring me down. "Good girl. You're a natural at this. Such a good, obedient little throat for your husband."
Hearing him call himself my husband while destroying my throat sends a desperate rush of adrenaline through me. I increase the pace, my bobbing head moving faster against him, completely unbothered by the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes from the sheer depth of it.
"You're begging for it with that mouth," he murmurs, his breathing turning incredibly heavy and uneven. He doesn't wait anymore. His hips shift forward, and he begins to fuck my mouth, a slow, dominant, steady rhythm that pushes past my lips and forces me to take him completely.
Squelch. The wet, friction-filled sound echoes off the sterile glass table and the cold security monitors.
"Take it, Camilla. Take every single inch," he commands, his thrusts turning faster, sharper, driving deep into my throat until I'm choking slightly around him, my fingers digging bruises into the leather armrests.
"Show me how dirty you can be for me before we go to that dinner. Let me hear you swallow me."
I choke back a whimper, meeting his dark, blown-out gray-blue eyes through my lashes. The raw dominance radiating from him is absolute, and I suck harder, my throat clamping down around him with every deep, heavy thrust he takes.
I swipe my tongue firmly around the sensitive head of his dick, and the sudden friction destroys the last of his restraint.
Maksim swears loudly, a string of harsh Russian curses ripping from his throat as his hips snap forward, coming hard down my throat.
I swallow convulsively, taking the thick, burning heat of his release as his hands tighten painfully in my hair, anchoring me to him until the very last twitch of his muscles fades.
He pants heavily, his chest heaving, before he suddenly jerks himself out of my mouth.
Before I can even wipe my lips, he grabs my arm and drags me up out of the leather chair. My knees are weak, but he doesn't give me a chance to find my footing. He lifts me effortlessly, hoisting me onto the cold glass conference desk, scattering a neat stack of security files beneath my back.