Chapter 20 Renato #2
Al-Rashid nods approvingly. "Strong-willed women often make the most satisfying acquisitions once properly trained." He makes detailed notes. "What about adaptability? Cultural adjustment?"
"High intelligence, quick learner. She'll adapt to new environments and expectations without difficulty."
"Family interference? Ex-lovers? Any complications that might arise?"
"None. Complete severing from previous life. No entanglements or ongoing obligations."
I see Camilla's face go even paler as her entire existence is reduced to transaction details. As I catalogue her qualities like she's a piece of property.
This is what you wanted, I remind myself. Credible offers. Real pressure on Alessandro.
But watching her stand there while I describe her qualities—knowing she believes every word—is agonizing.
"Perfect. Clean transitions are essential for household harmony." He closes his notebook. "Breeding potential? Has this been evaluated?"
Breeding potential?
The thought of Camilla being forced to carry another man’s baby is beyond comprehension and something I hadn’t considered.
"She’s in excellent health, optimal age range. No medical impediments."
"Outstanding." Al-Rashid looks directly at me. "I'm quite impressed. She exceeds my specifications in every category."
"All serious offers receive serious consideration."
"I'm prepared to be very generous for the right acquisition." He pauses. "I assume you'll provide the standard documentation? Medical records, background verification, transfer papers?"
I hadn't thought about documentation, either. Of course they'd expect paperwork.
"All documentation will be provided to the winning bidder."
"Excellent. I'll have my legal team prepare the purchase agreement. Expect my offer within twenty-four hours."
After Al-Rashid leaves, I find myself alone with Camilla in the suddenly quiet salon. She hasn't moved an inch from where I positioned her, but something in her posture has changed.
"Is it over?" she asks quietly.
"For today."
"And tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, we wait for their offers."
She nods slowly, then suddenly her legs give out. She sinks into the nearest chair, her face pale and her hands shaking.
"I can't do this," she whispers.
"You can. You did."
"They looked at me like I was... like I was..."
"Like you were exactly what you are. A valuable acquisition being evaluated by potential buyers." The words come out automatically, but they feel like knives in my chest.
"I'm not an acquisition. I'm not property. I'm a person."
"Not to them, you're not. To them, you're an investment. A luxury item to be purchased and enjoyed."
She looks up at me with eyes that are bright with unshed tears. "And to you? What am I to you?"
The question I've been avoiding. The one I can't answer honestly without destroying everything.
I look down at her—this incredible, strong, beautiful woman—and give her the only answer I can afford.
"You're a transaction."
She stands slowly, rebuilding her composure with visible effort. "Then I suppose I should be grateful that I’m so highly valued."
"You should be. Both men are prepared to make substantial offers."
"When will you decide?"
"When I receive their final offers."
"And then?"
"Then the highest bidder wins or Alessandro pays."
She nods, accepting the reality with the same dignity she's shown throughout this nightmare.
"I'd like to return to my room now."
"Of course."
I escort her upstairs, noting the way she moves, carefully, like she's afraid she might fall. At her door, she turns to face me.
"Renato?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for not letting them touch me today."
The simple gratitude in her voice nearly breaks me. "It was business. Nothing more."
"I know. But thank you anyway."
After I lock her door, I lean against the wall and close my eyes.
In less than two hours, I've received interest worth more than fifteen million euros. Both buyers believe this is real. Both will submit credible offers that should terrify Alessandro into paying.
The bluff is working.
So why does it feel like the world is about to implode?
My phone buzzes. Kozlov's offer: Fifteen million euros. Cash transfer within seventy-two hours of final verification. Standard acquisition contract with his terms attached.
I open the attachment. Six pages of legal documentation detailing ownership transfer, usage rights, liability clauses. The kind of contract you'd use for property, not a person.
He thinks this is real. He's preparing to own her.
And I'm the one who convinced him it was possible.
Ten minutes later, Al-Rashid's offer arrives: Sixteen million euros. Immediate cash transfer upon documentation review. His own standard contract, equally detailed and equally horrifying.
Both offers are substantial. Both are credible. Both will terrify Alessandro into action.
That was the plan.
So why am I sitting here staring at these contracts like they're death sentences?
I text Alessandro: Fifteen million from Kozlov. Sixteen million from Al-Rashid. You have forty-eight hours to pay the six million you owe me, or I finalize the deal with the highest bidder.
Simple. Direct. No room for negotiation.
His response takes longer than I expect. When it comes, it's only two words: You wouldn't.
He's right, of course. But he can't know that.
I don't respond. Let him sit with the silence. Let him wonder if I'm bluffing or if his future daughter-in-law really is about to disappear into a Saudi compound or a Russian oligarch's estate.
Five minutes pass. Then: Forty-eight hours. I'll have the money.
Victory should taste better than this.
I should feel triumphant. Alessandro is cracking. In forty-eight hours, I'll have my money and Camilla will be free.
Free to go back to Lorenzo and her old life.
I drain the scotch and pour another.