Chapter 18 Renato
I can't get the taste of her out of my mouth.
Three hours. Three fucking hours since I left her room, and I can still feel her lips, still hear that innocent question: "How was that for a first attempt?" Like she hadn't just blown my mind the second she took me in her mouth along with everything else.
The cold shower didn’t help, or the business reports I'm pretending to read, or the distance I've put between myself and the woman who's systematically destroying me.
She played me.
Completely.
Turned what was supposed to be clinical training into something that felt like...
Like what? Like she wanted me?
Christ. I'm losing my fucking mind.
My phone buzzes. Matteo again.
"What?"
"Boss, we need to finalize the viewing arrangements. Kozlov's assistant called three times today, and Al-Rashid's people are pushing for specific details."
"Handle it."
"I need your input on format. Do you want them here separately or together? What kind of interaction are we allowing? How much access—"
"I said handle it."
"Sir, these are decisions that require your approval. We're talking about fifteen million euros minimum. Maybe more if they get into a bidding war during the viewing itself."
“No, we’re not fucking talking about fifteen million because the auction will never happen. Tonight, I’ll allow her to call both families and plead her case. Now that she knows exactly what’s about to happen, she’ll be able to convince Alessandro and her father to pay up.”
"What do you want me to do in the meantime?”
"Set up separate viewings. One hour each. Neutral conversation, basic assessment. No physical contact."
"Kozlov specifically requested demonstration of her training. He wants to see evidence of her... conditioning."
My grip tightens on the phone. "What the fuck is he asking for now?"
"Obedience commands, positioning, maybe some submission techniques. Nothing extreme, just proof that she's been properly prepared."
"Fuck, no."
"Sir?"
"No demonstrations. They can look, they can make small talk with her, that's it."
"But boss, they're expecting—"
"I don’t give a shit what these assholes are expecting. They’re coming to evaluate a potential purchase. They can do that without putting their hands on her."
"Kozlov might not be satisfied with just conversation."
"Then Kozlov can take his money elsewhere and fuck off."
"I'll see what we can arrange," Matteo says carefully. "Maybe a compromise. Verbal commands only, no physical contact."
"Fine. Set it up."
I hang up before he can ask any more questions I can't answer rationally.
The truth is, there is no rational answer.
There's no business logic that explains why the thought of Kozlov's cold eyes assessing Camilla makes me want to commit murder. No strategic thinking behind my refusal to let them see the woman I've been pretending to train to please them.
I'm compromised.
Completely, utterly, professionally fucked.
I did this all to myself.
And she knows it.
That's the worst part. The way she looked at me when she asked for feedback of her sucking my cock. The casual way she brought up bondage training, knowing exactly what that would do to me.
Her words haunt me. Every skill you teach me, every technique you show me, every moment of intimacy we share—I'll remember all of it when I'm with them.
I need to end this soon before it destroys me if it hasn’t already.
My phone rings again. Matteo already with an update on buyer arrangements.
"Boss? Kozlov's people confirmed his arrival time. Al-Rashid's assistant wants details about security protocols."
"Standard arrangements. Full discretion, no complications."
"And the viewing timeline?"
"I'm still deciding. The families will come to their senses before it becomes necessary."
"You think they'll pay?"
"They'll pay after they talk to Camilla. She’ll be able to convince them of the hell she’s being sold into.
Men like that always pay when their reputations are on the line.
" I take another sip of scotch. "Alessandro Rossi won't let his family name be associated with this kind of scandal.
And Colombo won't let his daughter disappear without trying to save her. "
"What if they don't?"
"They will. This is about honor, not just money. Italian families don't abandon blood, no matter how inconvenient. If they continue to stall, we’ll proceed with the viewing as planned.”
I can’t think straight. All I can think about is Camilla asking me to tie her up. Her deliberate provocation about bondage training. The way she's turned every lesson into psychological warfare.
Tomorrow, I have to teach her submission techniques that will prepare her for men who view restraints as ownership tools. I have to bind her to bedposts and demonstrate control while fighting the urge to keep her tied up and never let anyone else touch her.
This whole time, I haven’t let myself think about what happens if and when Alessandro pays up and she goes back to her future groom, Lorenzo.
Sending her back into an arranged marriage isn’t much better than selling her. It’s just packaged better in a prettier box. Another man’s unwanted hands will still be touching her, kissing her.
Fuck.
There’s no way out of this nightmare now. A knock on my door interrupts my spiral. "Come in."
Matteo enters with a tablet and concerned expression. Guess he thought he’d better check in on me.
"Boss, we have the viewing schedules confirmed. Kozlov next Thursday afternoon, Al-Rashid Friday morning."
"Fine."
"There's something else. Kozlov's people sent over specific requirements for the demonstration he wants to see."
I take the tablet and scan the list, my blood turning to ice with each line:
Basic obedience positioning. Responses to dominant commands.
Evidence of submission training. Demonstration of restraint tolerance. Assessment of pain threshold.
"He wants to see her pain threshold? He is a sick fuck. Camilla is right."
"It’s standard evaluation for his type of acquisition. He needs to know she can handle his preferences."
I set down the tablet before I put my fist through it. "And if I refuse these requirements?"
"He withdraws his offer. Says he's not interested in untested merchandise."
Untested merchandise.
I’m going to kill this fucking bastard with my bare hands. And I’ll enjoy every second of it.
"What about Al-Rashid? Does he have similar requirements?"
"More traditional. Conversation, appearance assessment, basic personality evaluation. Much less hands-on."
I should be relieved. Al-Rashid is clearly the better option, less violent, more controlled. But the thought of any man evaluating her, comparing her to other women he's owned, deciding whether she's worth his money.
"Boss? What do you want me to tell Kozlov's people?"
"Tell him we'll discuss specifics at the viewing. Nothing gets agreed to in advance."
"He might not like that."
"He can like it or leave. His choice."
Matteo studies my face carefully. "Boss, can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"Are you sure you're still okay with this arrangement? Because you seem invested in the training process. I thought all this was supposed to be about putting pressure on her families? It seems to be turning into something else."
"This will all be over soon."
"Of course. It's just... well, you've been different since this started. More on edge. Less focused on other business."
"The other businesses are running fine."
"Yes, sir. But maybe it would help to get some distance from her. I could arrange for someone else to handle things from here."
"No. I’ll handle it. All of it."
The irony of this screwed up situation isn't lost on me. I've spent my entire career taking what I want, controlling every situation, bending others to my will. But Camilla Colombo has turned the tables completely.
She's the one in control now. Because she's made me want something I can't have.
Made me need something I have to give away.
Made me fall for someone I'm supposed to sell.
And tomorrow, when I tie her to my bed and teach her submission, we'll both find out exactly how much torture I can endure before something cracks completely.
I finish my scotch and head upstairs, knowing sleep won't come. Instead, I'll lie awake thinking about silk scarves and soft skin and the sound she made when I lost control.
Thinking about a woman who's teaching me that power isn't about what you can take.
It's about what you can't bear to lose.
And I'm about to lose everything.