Chapter 16 Renato
I haven't slept in days.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her straddling my lap, feel her pulse racing under my hands, hear that breathless whisper when she called me 'sir.' Every time I try to focus on business, my mind drifts to what I have to teach her today.
How to teach her to make men like Kozlov believe she's eager for it.
How to prepare her to pleasure other men while I watch my own sanity disintegrate.
The scotch burns going down, but it's nothing compared to the fire eating me alive from the inside. I pour another and stare out at the lake, watching the morning mist rise off the water like ghosts.
That's what I'll be after this is over. A ghost of the man who used to make decisions based on profit and loss instead of the curve of a woman's throat and the sound of her breathing.
My phone buzzes. Matteo.
"Boss? We might have a problem."
"What kind?" I check my watch. Eight-thirty. Half an hour until I have to walk into that room and teach Camilla things that will haunt me for the rest of my life.
"Kozlov and Al-Rashid. They're pushing for a private viewing before they commit to serious bidding."
The scotch turns to acid in my mouth. "A viewing."
"They want to see her in person. Kozlov's flying in from Moscow next week, Al-Rashid is coming up from Rome. They want to evaluate her before the official auction."
"Evaluate how?"
"Standard inspection. Physical assessment, basic conversation, maybe some demonstration of her training. They're talking serious money, boss. Kozlov mentioned fifteen million as a starting point."
Fifteen million euros. More than twice the debt I’m collecting.
And all I have to do is let predators take Camilla.
"When?"
"They want to coordinate schedules. Probably within the next two weeks. Kozlov's people suggested a neutral location, but I told them the villa would be more secure."
They’re coming here. To my sanctuary, where I've been slowly losing my mind watching her, obsessing over her.
"Fine. Set it up."
"Any preferences on format? Dinner, cocktails, something more formal?"
"Whatever showcases her best. These men need to see exactly what they're bidding on. “And Matteo? Do full security checks on everyone. This property doesn't get compromised."
"Understood. Anything else?"
"No, keep me informed."
I unlock her door the next morning, carrying nothing but the weight of what I have to tell her.
She's standing by the window in that cream silk robe, morning light turning her dark hair to gold.
Beautiful. Perfect. And completely unaware that soon, men who view women as property will be arriving to inspect every inch of her.
"Good morning," she says, turning to face me. "You look like hell again. Another rough night?"
"I don't sleep much." I move into the room, closing the door behind me. "Are you ready for today's lesson?"
"That depends on what you're planning to teach me."
"More of the same. What men like Kozlov and Al-Rashid will expect from you."
“You mentioned that I would be expected to know how to please a man even though I’m a virgin. What exactly did you mean by that?”
Her direct question catches me off guard and I hesitate before answering. “Your hands and your mouth.”
Her composure doesn't crack, but I see something flicker in her dark eyes.
"I see. And how exactly do you plan to demonstrate these techniques?
Do you realize everything I know about these things I learned from the internet and not personal experience?
I played the virtuous virgin role as long as I could with Lorenzo. "
Fuck.
I know I’m dangerously close to crossing a line I can never get back over. This is going to end badly and I’ll be the only one to blame.
Of course she's inexperienced. She was supposed to marry Lorenzo Rossi in a business arrangement. Her sexual education probably consists of whatever sanitized information her Swiss finishing school provided.
“I know you’re inexperienced. Come here and kneel in front of me.”
She sinks down gracefully, the silk robe pooling around her legs. The sight of her on her knees between my thighs makes my cock immediately go hard.
"This is the position you'll spend a lot of time in with men like Kozlov. Hands on my thighs. Eyes up unless instructed otherwise."
Her palms settle on my legs, warm through the fabric of my pants.
"Like this?"
"Exactly like that." Christ, her touch is burning through my clothes. "The first thing you need to understand is that this isn't about your comfort or pleasure. It's about making them feel powerful."
"And how do I do that?"
"By showing enthusiasm. By making sounds that suggest you're enjoying yourself. By using your hands and mouth in ways that stroke their ego as much as their cock."
Her cheeks flush slightly, but she doesn't look away. "Okay."
"Okay, what?"
"Tell me how you want me to touch you. What techniques I need to learn."
The direct request nearly breaks my control. She's asking me to teach her to pleasure me while I prepare her for other men. The psychological torture is exquisite.
"First, you need to understand the basic mechanics. Unbutton my belt."
Her fingers move to my belt, and I have to fight not to react to the intimacy of the gesture. She works slowly, deliberately, maintaining eye contact as she loosens my belt and unzips my pants.
"You're too tentative. Men like Kozlov want to see eagerness, not hesitation." I cover her hands with mine, guiding them. "Like you can't wait to please them."
"Is that what you want, Renato? For me to act like I can't wait to please you?"
I do want that. I want her eager, I want her willing, I want her to look at me the way she'll never look at any buyer.
"I want you prepared for anything they might demand."
"Then teach me everything."
She reaches for my zipper, and I catch her wrist.
"Camilla, before we continue, there's something you need to know."
"What?"
"Kozlov and Al-Rashid are coming for a private viewing next week. They want to see you before committing to serious bids. The broker, Torretti might be here as well."
Her hand stills against my pants. "A viewing?"
"Standard procedure for high-value acquisitions. They'll evaluate your appearance, your demeanor."
I watch her process this information, see the moment when the reality hits her. In a week, she'll be displayed for these men like merchandise. Evaluated, assessed, judged on her potential value.
"Is this viewing necessary?"
"It's normal. They're talking fifteen million euros as a starting point."
"Fifteen million." She's quiet for a moment. "I must be very valuable merchandise."
"You are."
"And after this viewing? How long until the auction?"
"That depends on their level of interest. There could be a bidding war. Could be days, could be weeks."
She takes a deep breath, then her hands resume their movement, sliding my zipper down.
"Then we'd better make sure I'm properly trained for their evaluation."
The calm way she says it eats me up inside.
"Camilla—"
"No." She shakes her head. "Don’t. No hesitation, no second-guessing. You said I need to learn this to survive. So, teach me."
Her hand slides inside my pants, warm fingers wrapping around me, and everything inside me goes rigid. My breath punches out in a low hiss.
“Christ.” The word rips out of me, raw, not even a word anymore but a sound.
"Is that good? Is that how you want me to touch you?"
"Yes." The word comes out strangled. "But you need to understand what you're doing. What this means."
“I understand perfectly.” Her grip tightens, her thumb dragging along the sensitive underside, sending a tremor through me. “I’m learning skills that might keep me alive. And you’re the one teaching me.”
My pulse hammers so hard I can feel it in my teeth. “And how does that make you feel?”
“Powerful.” Her thumb brushes across the head of my cock, smearing pre-cum, and I bite back a groan. She’s kneeling at my feet but somehow, she’s the one with power. “For the first time since this nightmare started, I feel like I have some control.”
“Control how?” I manage, but my voice is already fraying, and she knows it.
“Because right now, in this moment, you need me as much as I need you.” She strokes me slowly, deliberately, watching my face like she’s memorizing the exact way I break. “Because I can see what this is doing to you.”
“What is it doing to me?” My grip on her shoulder tightens until I can feel the delicate bones under my palm, but I can’t make myself push her away.
“Destroying you. Little by little, lesson by lesson.” Her other hand joins the first, sliding lower, cupping, coaxing, and a low, noise escapes my throat.
“And despite everything — despite the viewing, despite the auction, despite all your business logic — you don’t want to let me go.
And when the time comes, you won’t let me go. ”
“You’re wrong.” The words have no strength behind them; my body’s already betraying me.
“Am I?” She leans forward, breath hot against the base of my cock, and a shudder rolls through me so hard my fingers curl into her hair. “Then this should be easy for you. Just another professional lesson.”
Her lips close around the tip, and rational thought disappears. Heat. Wetness. The pull of her mouth. My spine bows and my eyes shut against the wave of sensation.
“Fuck.” It’s a groan, a confession.
"Is that what Kozlov will say? Will he curse when I do this?" Her voice is muffled around me, the vibration shooting straight up my spine.
“Probably,” I grit out, but it’s barely a sound.
“And Al-Rashid? Will he make sounds like you’re making now?” Her tongue flicks and my hips jerk helplessly. I can’t answer. I can’t think past the wet heat and the terrible truth of what I’m teaching her.
I grab a fistful of her hair, not to hurt but to hold her still, to anchor myself. “Camilla, stop,” I manage, even though my body is already betraying the command. She lifts her head, mouth swollen, eyes dark, and I know she sees every thought I just fought to bury.
“Why?” She looks up at me, lips glistening. “Am I doing something wrong?”
“You’re doing everything right. That’s the problem.” My thumb brushes her cheek, and that single touch feels like a surrender I can’t afford.
She studies me with those dark eyes that see too much, then her warm mouth closes over me again, and I’m drowning — in sensation, in heat, in the terrible knowledge that every second of pleasure is another step toward losing her completely.
Because the viewing is coming.
The auction is coming.
And I'm running out of time to figure out how to keep what I can't afford to lose.
I can’t do this.
I tug harder on her hair. “Stop, Camilla.”
Her mouth stills and I can feel her breath against my skin, warm and unsteady.
Every nerve in my body tells me to reach for her again.
To finish what she started. The thought is a flash of heat and violence—my hand on her throat, the sound she’d make if I pulled her against me.
The vision hits hard and I tear it apart before it can settle.
The only sound in the room is our breathing, uneven and jagged, like we’ve both been running.
My heartbeat is a hammer in my chest. For a long moment neither of us moves.
The air between us is thick with everything that almost happened, everything I wanted to let happen.
I force my fingers to unclench from her hair, the loss of contact leaving a hollow ache that feels like withdrawal.
“You wanted me to stop,” she says quietly. “But you didn’t want it to end.”
I take a breath, steady but sharp. “You’re playing with fire you don’t understand.”
Her mouth curves, not quite a smile. “You’re teaching me how to survive fire.”