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AUTHOR’S POV
The penthouse gleamed like a blade—sharp edges of glass and steel slicing the Manhattan skyline. Serene clutched her worn backpack, her sneakers silent on the marble floor.
Her heart hammering louder than the city hum thirty floors below. She wasn’t supposed to be here.
Not in this world of wealth and whispers, where men like Nicholas Volkov ruled with fists wrapped in velvet.
But the paycheck—seven grand a month just to cook and clean—had silenced her doubts. Julian’s voice echoed in her head: “It’s simple, Serene. He’s my brother. He needs help. You need cash.”
The elevator doors hissed shut behind her, sealing her in.
She adjusted her ponytail, black strands sticking to her sweaty neck, and glanced at the note Julian had scrawled: Kitchen. 7 p.m. Dinner.
Simple.
She could do simple.
Except nothing felt simple when the air prickled with him before she even saw him.
“Late.”
The word hit like a whip, deep and rough, from the shadows of the living room.
Serene froze, her breath catching as Nicholas Volkov stepped into the light.
He was a storm in a suit—tall, broad, his late-thirties frame carved from years of power. Dark hair streaked with silver framed a face too handsome to be fair, all hard lines and a jaw that could cut glass.
His gray eyes locked on her, stripping her bare in one sweep, and her knees wobbled.
“I-I’m sorry, sir,” she stammered, clutching the backpack tighter.
“The subway—”
“Dinner. Now.” He cut her off, voice a low growl, already turning away.
His presence sucked the oxygen from the room, leaving her dizzy. She scurried to the kitchen—open, gleaming, a chef’s dream—and fumbled with the fridge.
Steak. Rare, Julian had said. She could do this. She had to.
The sizzle of meat on the pan filled the silence, but his shadow loomed closer.
She felt him before she saw him—heat radiating as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching. Her hands shook, the spatula slipping.
A drop of oil popped, and she flinched.
She was nervous. He was too close and she couldn’t seem to breathe the same air as him.
“Too slow,” he said, voice closer now, a dark velvet that brushed her spine.
He stepped behind her, his chest a wall of muscle inches away. She smelled cedar and bourbon, sharp and intoxicating.
“Turn it.”
“W-what?” Her voice was a squeak, barely audible over the hiss of the steak.
He didn’t repeat himself. His hand shot out—not to the pan, but to her wrist, gripping it with calloused fingers.
Firm, not cruel, but enough to make her gasp. He guided her hand, flipping the meat with a flick, his breath hot against her ear.
“Like that. Learn fast, little maid.”
Her cheeks burned, her pulse a wild drumbeat under his touch.
She nodded, too scared to speak, too aware of his thumb lingering on her skin before he let go.
He stepped back, but his eyes didn’t—gray and unyielding, pinning her like a butterfly on a board.
She plated the steak, hands trembling, and slid it across the counter.
“Here, sir.”
He didn’t move. Just stared—first at the plate, then at her. A smirk tugged his lips, sharp and dangerous.
“Sit.”
“Sir?” She blinked, her stomach twisting.
“Sit,” he repeated, nodding to the stool beside him.
“You eat with me tonight.”
Her mouth went dry.
This wasn’t in Julian’s note.
She hesitated, but his gaze darkened, a silent command she couldn’t defy. She perched on the edge of the stool, knees pressed tight, feeling small next to his towering frame.
He sliced into the steak, the knife glinting, and held a piece to her lips.
“Open.”
Her heart stopped.
Her fingers trembling.
She parted her lips, trembling, and the meat hit her tongue—warm, rich, overwhelming.
His eyes never left hers, a predator savoring his catch.
“Good girl,” he murmured, and the words sank into her, coiling low and tight.
She didn’t know what she’d stepped into.
Not yet.
But as Nicholas Volkov leaned closer, his knee brushing hers under the counter, she knew one thing: she wasn’t just a maid.
She was his.
And he wasn’t letting go.
...Serene’s POV My sneakers slapped against the uneven sidewalk, each step a frantic beat against the late afternoon hum of the city.My backpack bounced against my spine, stuffed with library books and a crumpled tuition bill that mocked me from the side pocket. Finals were a week away, and my last year’s university fees—$8,000 still unpaid—loomed like a storm cloud. I needed money, and fast. A frustrated sigh escaped my lips as I clenched my fists around the straps of my bag pack. Valencia, my best friend’s, text had buzzed through my panic an hour ago: “Come quick! Julian’s here with news.” Valencia’s voice always carried a promise of hope, and I clung to it now, my breath fogging in the cool October air.I hoped for a good news, something that could help me with my unpaid tuition fees. Valencia’s apartment building came into view—a modest brick structure a few blocks from campus, nothing fancy but something her boyfriend, Julian, got for her. I smoothed my faded jeans as
...Serene’s POVTWO DAYS LATER My fingers trembled as I swiped the keycard against the penthouse reader, the soft beep echoing like a gunshot in the quiet hallway. It’s been two days since I started working here. The memories of the first night came flashing in my mind when …… He asked me to eat dinner with him. I didn’t expect such thing and I couldn’t sleep for the rest of days after that. The doors slid open, revealing a world of glass and steel that stole my breath.The clock read 6:50 p.m. I had ten minutes to prepare dinner—steak, rare, per Julian’s note. My sneakers squeaked on the marble as I darted to the kitchen, heart a wild drumbeat. I quickly arranged the ingredients and started cooking. I fumbled with the knife, slicing potatoes with shaky hands, the sizzle of the pan my only comfort. I just had to cook dinner , clean a bit and just leave quickly. But the air shifted, heavy and warm, before I heard him.“You’re early.”The voice was a low growl, wrapping aroun
...Serene’s POV “Serene,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that sent shivers down my spine. My heart pounded like a beating drum as I looked up at him. He stood tall, his gray eyes looking down at me making my cheeks to warm up. This all was too much. Her fantasies coming to life but …… did it had to be …… Nicholas? She gulped the lump formed in her throat. “Come here.”His gaze raked over me, lingering on my trembling lips. “Bend over the table,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “ Read the contract.”My breath caught, confusion and fear warring. “S-sir, I—” My voice failed, a squeak swallowed by the vast room. I couldn’t protest, couldn’t move, until he took a step forward. His hand guided my torso bending over the cold glass table. A paper lay there—neat, typed, ominous.“Read,” he commanded, stepping behind me.I felt goosebumps all over my body as my chest pressed against the cold glass table making me clench my thighs together. I pushed all thought
...SERENE’S POVI stepped into the room assigned to me, the heavy oak door creaking shut behind me with a finality that made my heart skip. Shivers ran down my spine as I scanned the room. The space was vast—larger than my entire dorm, with high ceilings, a four-poster bed draped in silk, and windows that framed the glittering city skyline. Never in my twenty years had I owned something so grand, so overwhelming. My sneakers squeaked on the polished hardwood as I turned, locking the door with cautious clicks, my breath shallow. Living under the same roof as Nicholas Volkov—ruthless billionaire, my spanker, my captor—sent a shiver of fear down my spine. I gulped, the sound loud in the silence, and ventured further into the room.My eyes caught on a full-length mirror framed in dark wood, standing against the far wall like a silent judge. I hesitated, then stepped closer, my reflection wavering in the dim light. The contract’s weight pressed on my mind—live-in maid, his rules,
...Serene’s POVThe kitchen smelled of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee, a fragile shield against the storm brewing in my chest. I was standing at the counter, my hands trembling as I flipped eggs at 7 a.m., the penthouse silent except for the hiss of the pan. My heart pounded, a relentless drumbeat, my mind slipping back to last night—the room, the mirror, Nicholas’s voice commanding me not to touch myself. Thinking about the night made me feel tingles as I rubbed m legs together. I sighed, a shaky breath, and scolded myself under my breath. Focus, Serene. Just cook. But the memory of his hands, his dark chuckle, clung to me like a second skin.Footsteps echoed—slow, deliberate, sending shivers racing down my spine. I felt tiny, timid, as Nicholas Volkov strode into the dining area, his deep voice rumbling into a phone. “No, Christian, push the meeting. I’m busy.” He was a vision of power—black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, black hair perfectly styled, gray eyes sharp even
...Serene’s POVThe kitchen smelled of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee, a fragile shield against the storm brewing in my chest. I was standing at the counter, my hands trembling as I flipped eggs at 7 a.m., the penthouse silent except for the hiss of the pan. My heart pounded, a relentless drumbeat, my mind slipping back to last night—the room, the mirror, Nicholas’s voice commanding me not to touch myself. Thinking about the night made me feel tingles as I rubbed m legs together. I sighed, a shaky breath, and scolded myself under my breath. Focus, Serene. Just cook. But the memory of his hands, his dark chuckle, clung to me like a second skin.Footsteps echoed—slow, deliberate, sending shivers racing down my spine. I felt tiny, timid, as Nicholas Volkov strode into the dining area, his deep voice rumbling into a phone. “No, Christian, push the meeting. I’m busy.” He was a vision of power—black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, black hair perfectly styled, gray eyes sharp even
...SERENE’S POVI stepped into the room assigned to me, the heavy oak door creaking shut behind me with a finality that made my heart skip. Shivers ran down my spine as I scanned the room. The space was vast—larger than my entire dorm, with high ceilings, a four-poster bed draped in silk, and windows that framed the glittering city skyline. Never in my twenty years had I owned something so grand, so overwhelming. My sneakers squeaked on the polished hardwood as I turned, locking the door with cautious clicks, my breath shallow. Living under the same roof as Nicholas Volkov—ruthless billionaire, my spanker, my captor—sent a shiver of fear down my spine. I gulped, the sound loud in the silence, and ventured further into the room.My eyes caught on a full-length mirror framed in dark wood, standing against the far wall like a silent judge. I hesitated, then stepped closer, my reflection wavering in the dim light. The contract’s weight pressed on my mind—live-in maid, his rules,
...Serene’s POV “Serene,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that sent shivers down my spine. My heart pounded like a beating drum as I looked up at him. He stood tall, his gray eyes looking down at me making my cheeks to warm up. This all was too much. Her fantasies coming to life but …… did it had to be …… Nicholas? She gulped the lump formed in her throat. “Come here.”His gaze raked over me, lingering on my trembling lips. “Bend over the table,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “ Read the contract.”My breath caught, confusion and fear warring. “S-sir, I—” My voice failed, a squeak swallowed by the vast room. I couldn’t protest, couldn’t move, until he took a step forward. His hand guided my torso bending over the cold glass table. A paper lay there—neat, typed, ominous.“Read,” he commanded, stepping behind me.I felt goosebumps all over my body as my chest pressed against the cold glass table making me clench my thighs together. I pushed all thought
...Serene’s POVTWO DAYS LATER My fingers trembled as I swiped the keycard against the penthouse reader, the soft beep echoing like a gunshot in the quiet hallway. It’s been two days since I started working here. The memories of the first night came flashing in my mind when …… He asked me to eat dinner with him. I didn’t expect such thing and I couldn’t sleep for the rest of days after that. The doors slid open, revealing a world of glass and steel that stole my breath.The clock read 6:50 p.m. I had ten minutes to prepare dinner—steak, rare, per Julian’s note. My sneakers squeaked on the marble as I darted to the kitchen, heart a wild drumbeat. I quickly arranged the ingredients and started cooking. I fumbled with the knife, slicing potatoes with shaky hands, the sizzle of the pan my only comfort. I just had to cook dinner , clean a bit and just leave quickly. But the air shifted, heavy and warm, before I heard him.“You’re early.”The voice was a low growl, wrapping aroun
...Serene’s POV My sneakers slapped against the uneven sidewalk, each step a frantic beat against the late afternoon hum of the city.My backpack bounced against my spine, stuffed with library books and a crumpled tuition bill that mocked me from the side pocket. Finals were a week away, and my last year’s university fees—$8,000 still unpaid—loomed like a storm cloud. I needed money, and fast. A frustrated sigh escaped my lips as I clenched my fists around the straps of my bag pack. Valencia, my best friend’s, text had buzzed through my panic an hour ago: “Come quick! Julian’s here with news.” Valencia’s voice always carried a promise of hope, and I clung to it now, my breath fogging in the cool October air.I hoped for a good news, something that could help me with my unpaid tuition fees. Valencia’s apartment building came into view—a modest brick structure a few blocks from campus, nothing fancy but something her boyfriend, Julian, got for her. I smoothed my faded jeans as
...AUTHOR’S POV The penthouse gleamed like a blade—sharp edges of glass and steel slicing the Manhattan skyline. Serene clutched her worn backpack, her sneakers silent on the marble floor. Her heart hammering louder than the city hum thirty floors below. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in this world of wealth and whispers, where men like Nicholas Volkov ruled with fists wrapped in velvet. But the paycheck—seven grand a month just to cook and clean—had silenced her doubts. Julian’s voice echoed in her head: “It’s simple, Serene. He’s my brother. He needs help. You need cash.”The elevator doors hissed shut behind her, sealing her in. She adjusted her ponytail, black strands sticking to her sweaty neck, and glanced at the note Julian had scrawled: Kitchen. 7 p.m. Dinner. Simple. She could do simple. Except nothing felt simple when the air prickled with him before she even saw him.“Late.”The word hit like a whip, deep and rough, from the shadows of the living room. Sere