Bought by the underworld CEO

Chapter 16 ( The forbidden room)

Ares leaned back in his leather chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. _At least now that distraction is gone,_ he thought, a faint, cold smile tugging at his lips.

The little gardener, Leo had been sent away. No more interference. No more questions.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Before he could answer, a servant entered, head bowed.

“Mr. Ares, the thing you ordered has been completed.”

Ares gave a single nod. “Good. Ensure no one speaks of it.”

He rose without another word.

---

Zoya hadn’t moved in hours.

She sat on the floor of her room, knees pulled to her chest, staring at the polished marble as if it might give her answers. The world outside was silent, but her mind was loud.

_What was real? What was manipulation?_

The door clicked open.

She didn’t look up.

Ares didn’t knock. He never did. He simply used the spare key and stepped in, his presence filling the room like a storm cloud.

Without warning, he caught her wrist and pulled her to her feet. Zoya stumbled, but he didn’t slow.

“Let go,” she whispered.

“I arranged something for you,” he said, his voice low, unreadable.

He dragged her through the corridor and out to the penthouse garden.

The morning air was cool, scented with jasmine and damp earth. Under the wide oak tree, a wooden swing hung from a thick branch. It was long enough for two, its ropes entwined with blooming vines of bougainvillea and wisteria.

Zoya stopped walking.

Ares led her to it. “That day, you mentioned you liked swings. So I had one built for you. In this penthouse.”

She said nothing.

He placed her on the seat, then gave the swing a gentle push. It swayed forward, then back. The flowers brushed her arms like soft fingertips.

Zoya’s chest felt numb. Her brain wouldn’t process it. One moment he was a captor, the next he was building her swings.

_Which version of him was true?_

Ares watched her for a long time. The silence stretched, heavy.

Finally, he stopped the swing with his palm and sat beside her. The wood creaked under their combined weight.

Zoya shifted away, creating a small distance between them.

Ares noticed. His jaw tightened. He didn’t like it.

“I can give you anything you want,” he said quietly. “Anything. But you will not leave. Understood?”

Zoya stared at the garden lights. “I’m just amusement to you. You’ll get tired of me eventually.”

His hand shot out.

He gripped her throat, not enough to cut off air, but enough to make her heart slam against her ribs.

“Even if I grow bored,” he said, voice like steel, “you are not going anywhere.”

He released her.

Zoya coughed, clutching her neck, gasping for breath. Tears pricked her eyes, though she refused to let them fall.

Ares brushed his thumb over her forehead, then pressed a kiss there. It was tender, and utterly wrong.

“I have a meeting,” he said, as if nothing had happened. “I’ll return for dinner.”

He left her on the swing, alone with the scent of flowers and fear.

---

Dinner was served on the terrace.

Zoya ate without speaking. The bruises on her neck were still visible, purple fingerprints against pale skin.

Ares put his fork down and studied her.

“Does your neck still hurt?” he asked, voice laced with fake concern.

Zoya didn’t answer. She kept her eyes on her plate.

He smiled at her silence.

Night fell.

At exactly 1:00 a.m., Ares’s phone vibrated on the bedside table. He answered without checking the name.

“Report,” he said.

A rough voice came through. “We’ve reached the mountain house, sir. The little gardener is asleep now.”

David. The man with the scar across his cheek. One of Ares’s most trusted enforcers.

Ares’s expression didn’t change. “Put him to work. Cleaning, gardening, whatever keeps him occupied. And keep sending half his wages to his uncle. Tell them he’s working elsewhere. We don’t want questions.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And David,” Ares added, voice sharpening. “He never comes to the city. Not once. Not ever.”

“Understood.”

The call ended.

Ares set the phone down, his mind already moving to the next problem.

Downstairs, Zoya lay awake, staring at the ceiling. She could feel the swing’s memory, the bruise on her neck, the contradiction of his cruelty and care.

She was trapped in a gilded cage, and the man who built it was the only one who could open it.

---

Time passed slowly at the mountain house. After more than two weeks, Leo started to feel homesick. He couldn’t call Zoya or his uncle — there was no signal there.

He asked David several times to let him go back to the city to see his uncle. He’d never been away from home this long, and he missed him. But David always made excuses: “Not yet, little gardener. We’re short on supplies,” or “Just a few more days.”

Leo began to grow suspicious, but he didn’t show it. He noticed there were no mobile signals anywhere on the property. Yet David always spoke to someone on his mobile in the corner in a room.

Which was forbidden to enter.

That night, Leo stayed awake. He watched David enter that room. Fifteen minutes later, David came out.

Once David was gone, Leo slipped into the room, quiet as a shadow. To his surprise, his mobile phone suddenly had full signal.

He was stunned. The room was packed with devices, wires, and antennas.

Leo opened his contacts and dialed the penthouse landline. A maid answered. Leo urged her to wake Zoya — it was urgent.

The maid went upstairs and brought Zoya down. She picked up the phone.

Leo told her, “I haven’t left the city. I’m at a house in the mountains, doing work. But something doesn’t feel right. I needed to talk to you.”

And Leo told everything From A to Z.

As Leo spoke, a man with a scar on his cheek stood in the doorway, watching him from behind .

Zoya’s voice was low and steady. “Stay calm. Act normal. Don’t let anyone know you suspect anything. I’ll figure something out.”

Leo whispered, “Okay, Zoya. No one will find out. Everyone’s asleep.”

He ended the call and turned around — only to freeze.

David stood behind him, smiling. And it wasn’t a kind smile.

--

End chap 16