Chapter 20 Renato
I've made a huge fucking mistake.
The realization hits me as I watch Viktor Kozlov's black Mercedes wind up the mountain road toward my villa, followed by the equally imposing vehicle carrying Ahmed Al-Rashid.
Two of the most dangerous men in Europe, coming to evaluate a woman I have no intention of selling to them.
The woman I can't stop thinking about.
This was supposed to be simple. Bring in credible buyers, let them make their offers, watch Alessandro panic and finally pay what he owes me. Clean, effective pressure.
Instead, I'm about to parade Camilla in front of genuine human traffickers and pray they don't see through my bluff.
"Kozlov's arriving now, boss," Matteo reports through my earpiece. "Al-Rashid is five minutes behind."
"Remember the ground rules. Physical viewing only. No conversation beyond necessary questions, no contact. They get fifteen minutes each, then they leave."
"Understood. What if they push for more access?"
"Then they can take their money elsewhere." My voice comes out harsher than intended, but I'm barely holding it together. The thought of these men speaking to her, studying her, mentally cataloging all the ways they'd use her if this were real.
Fuck, what have I done?
"Boss? You still there?"
"I'm here. Just keep them on schedule. Fifteen minutes, not a second more."
I check my watch. Three-thirty PM. I moved the viewing up, telling both buyers that scheduling conflicts required immediate evaluation. The truth is I can't wait any longer. Every additional day of this charade is another step toward complete insanity.
Either Alessandro pays up after seeing these offers, or I'll have to figure out how to extract myself from this situation without getting us both killed.
Because after yesterday, after making her call her family and hearing them abandon her, after seeing the devastation in her eyes when I told her the viewing was in two days—I know I'm past the point of rational thinking.
The plan was always to stop this before it went too far.
The problem is, I'm no longer sure where "too far" begins.
"Boss?" Matteo's voice pulls me back. "Kozlov's at the front door."
"Bring him to the main salon. I'll get Camilla."
I climb the stairs to her room, my hands steady despite the chaos in my head. She's been quieter since I told her about moving up the timeline, more withdrawn. Part of me is relieved—it makes this easier if she's too scared to see through what I'm doing.
The other part wants to tell her the truth, promise her this is all fake, swear she'll never actually belong to these monsters.
But I can't. Not yet. Not until Alessandro pays.
I unlock her door and step inside. She's sitting by the window in the burgundy dress I selected—the one that brings out her coloring while maintaining the elegant restraint that men like Kozlov claim to appreciate.
"It's time," I say without preamble.
She turns to face me, and I see something I haven't seen before in her dark eyes.
Real fear.
Not of me. Of what's about to happen.
It’s for the best. She needs to look terrified. It makes the bluff more convincing.
Even if seeing her terror kills me.
"Time for what?" she asks.
"The viewing. Kozlov is here. Al-Rashid arrives in five minutes."
The color drains from her face. She stands slowly, her hands shaking slightly as she smooths down her dress.
I move closer, noting the way she instinctively steps back. "You look perfect. Exactly what they're expecting."
"And what would that be?"
"A beautiful woman with excellent breeding and proper training." I reach out to adjust a strand of her hair, feeling her tense under my touch. "You'll stand where I position you. You won't speak unless directly asked a question. You'll maintain appropriate posture at all times."
"That's it? I just... stand there while they look at me?"
"That's it, for now. No conversation beyond basic pleasantries. No physical contact. They evaluate your appearance and demeanor, nothing more."
Relief flickers in her expression. "They can't touch me?"
"Not today. This is preliminary assessment only."
I don't tell her that's also because I'd kill either of them if they tried.
"But later..."
"Later depends on the outcome of today's viewing."
She nods slowly, processing the information. "How long?"
"Fifteen minutes each. Then it's over."
"And then what?"
"Then they make their offers and we see who values you most highly."
The cold way I say it makes her flinch, but she doesn't argue. Doesn't beg or plead or try to negotiate. Just nods.
She's so much stronger than she believes.
"Are you ready?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"No."
"Then I'm ready."
I lead her downstairs to the main salon, where Kozlov waits with barely contained impatience. He's exactly as I remember from the photos—silver hair, cold blue eyes, the kind of predatory stillness that comes from absolute confidence in his own power.
He's also a monster who's purchased at least three women in the last five years.
And I've just invited him into my home to evaluate a woman I'll never actually give him.
This had better work.
"Viktor," I say as we enter the salon. "Thank you for adjusting your schedule."
"Renato." His gaze immediately shifts to Camilla, and I watch his expression change from business interest to something much more focused. Hungry. "And this is the acquisition we discussed."
Every instinct screams at me to put myself between them, to end this charade right now. Instead, I force my voice to stay level.
"This is Camilla. As you can see, the photographs didn't do her justice."
Kozlov circles her slowly, his examination methodical and thorough. He doesn't touch, but his gaze travels over every inch of her body.
I watch Camilla's face, see her fighting to maintain composure while he stares at her.
This is necessary, I remind myself. Alessandro needs to believe this is real. The offers need to be credible.
But Christ, watching this is harder than I expected.
"Excellent bone structure. Good height, appropriate proportions." He stops in front of her, studying her face. "The breeding shows. Italian aristocracy?"
"Old Roman family. Educated in Switzerland and Paris."
"Languages?"
"Four fluent, two conversational."
"Impressive." He moves closer to Camilla, close enough that she has to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. "And her training?"
"Extensive. She understands expectations and responds appropriately to direction."
"Demonstrate."
The word hangs in the air like a challenge. I see Camilla's shoulders tense.
Fuck.
I should have anticipated this based on what Matteo told me.
"This is a viewing only, Viktor. Demonstrations will be reserved for serious buyers after terms are agreed."
"I am serious. Fifteen million euros serious." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Surely a simple demonstration of obedience isn't unreasonable."
My mind races. If I refuse too strongly, he'll suspect something's wrong. If I agree, I'll have to make Camilla perform for this monster.
"Today is about visual assessment. Nothing more."
For a moment, tension fills the salon. Kozlov isn't used to being refused anything, and his displeasure is evident. But he's also a businessman who understands negotiations.
More importantly, he's greedy. And greed makes men overlook inconsistencies.
"Very well. But I'll expect full access during final evaluation."
"Understood."
A lie.
There won't be a final evaluation. Alessandro will pay before then.
Kozlov completes his circuit around Camilla, making notes in a small leather journal. "She's everything you promised. Perhaps more." He looks at me directly. "When will the auction take place?"
"That depends on the level of interest from qualified buyers."
"Consider my interest confirmed. I'll expect first opportunity to make an offer once evaluation is complete."
"All serious offers will be considered equally."
"See that they are." He glances at Camilla one more time, practically salivating to get his hands on her. "I'll be in touch soon."
After Kozlov leaves, I have exactly three minutes to prepare for Al-Rashid. Camilla remains standing where I positioned her, but I can see the slight tremor in her hands.
"You did well," I tell her quietly.
"Did I? Because I felt like a race horse being evaluated for purchase."
"That's exactly what you were." The words taste like acid. "That's exactly what he needed to see."
Before she can respond, Matteo appears in the doorway.
"Al-Rashid has arrived, boss."
Ahmed Al-Rashid is a study in contrasts compared to Kozlov—younger, more traditionally handsome, with the kind of polished sophistication that comes from old money and excellent education. But his dark eyes hold the same calculating coldness as he examines Camilla.
Another monster in an expensive suit.
Another man I'm lying to.
"She's exquisite," he says after completing his own methodical assessment. "The photographs were adequate, but seeing her in person... quite remarkable."
"Thank you."
"She’s very poised." He stops in front of Camilla, studying her. "You mentioned comprehensive training?"
"All areas necessary for successful integration into a traditional household structure."
I recite the words mechanically, playing my role while watching Camilla maintain her composure. She's terrified but hiding it well.
Too well. It makes the performance more convincing, but it also means I can't tell how close she is to collapsing right in front of me.
"Domestic skills? Can she manage staff, handle social obligations?"
"Swiss finishing school education. She's fully prepared for high-society requirements."
"Excellent." He pulls out his own notebook. "And psychological conditioning? Attachment issues, rebellion tendencies?"
"Initially strong-willed, but conditioning has been effective. She understands hierarchy and responds appropriately to authority."