THE CONTRACT
1085 Words
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Serene’s POV
TWO 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 around me like a chain. I spun, nearly dropping the spatula, and there he was—Nicholas Volkov.
He filled the doorway, a mountain of a man in his late thirties, his dark suit clinging to broad shoulders, jet black hair framing a face carved from stone.
His gray eyes pierced me, sharp and unyielding, raking over me from head to toe. Handsome didn’t cover it—he was devastating, a predator in tailored perfection.
Twice her age, his presence dwarfed me, and fear coiled tight in my chest. I clenched my fists around the spatula and took a step back nervously.
“I-I wanted to be ready, sir,” I stammered, my voice a whisper. I stepped back again , bumping the counter, trapped.
He stepped closer, his boots silent, his scent—cedar and bourbon—flooding my senses.
“Good,” he said, his gaze lingering on my lips, then lower.
“But you’re too jumpy. Relax.”
His hand shot out, catching my wrist, his grip firm but not painful.
My breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping as he turned my hand, inspecting my trembling fingers.
“You’ve never done this before, have you?”
“N-no, sir,” I admitted, cheeks flaming.
“I’m just… trying.”
A smirk tugged his lips, dark and dangerous. He was close. Too close that his musky scent filled my nostrils and made its way to my mind.
“You’ll learn.”
He released me, but his touch lingered like a brand.
“Finish the steak. Then come to me.”
I nodded, turning back to the pan, my heart pounding. What was happening? Nicholas Volkov, the man I heard was ruthless and a very demanding man …… was having a normal conversation with a mere maid?
His shadow stayed, a weight on my spine, as I quickly plated the meal—steak rare, potatoes golden.
I carried it to the dining table, where he sat, legs spread, watching me like a hawk.
“Here, sir,” I murmured, setting it down.
“Sit,” he commanded, patting the chair beside him.
My stomach flipped.
“I… should clean—”
“Sit.” His tone brooked no argument. His deep voice sent shivers down my spine and something in his voice made me listen to him instantly.
I obeyed, perching on the edge, knees pressed together, feeling small under his stare.
He sliced the steak, the knife glinting, and held a piece to my lips.
“Open.”
My eyes widened, panic flaring as he ordered.
“Sir, I—”
“Now.”
My lips parted, trembling, and the meat touched my tongue—warm, rich, overwhelming.
I watched as His eyes darkened, a hunger there that made me shiver. What was going on?
“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a caress that sank deep.
He fed me another bite, his thumb brushing my lip, wiping a drop of juice. The touch sent a jolt through me, unfamiliar and electric.
My heart beat faster than ever and I clenched my skirt not knowing what to do. I chewed slowly and looked down at my lap.
“You’re untouched, aren’t you?” he said, leaning closer, his knee brushing mine under the table.
My face burned. I didn’t want to answer. Why was he even asking me such questions? But my mind screamed to obey him.
I was too scared to know what was going to happen to me if i disobeyed him.
“I… yes,” I whispered, mortified.
His smirk widened, a predator scenting prey.
“Perfect.”
He stood, towering over me, and pulled me up by the arm.
“Lesson one starts now.”
What lesson? What was going on?
Before I could protest, he guided me to the living room, pushing me gently against the leather sofa. His hands framed my face, tilting it up, his breath hot on my skin.
“Undo my tie,” he ordered, his voice a velvet command.
I looked at him nervously. My eyes quivering as I failed to maintain the eye contact.
My hands shook but only one thing screamed inside my mind.
Do not disobey.
I reached for the silk, fumbling with the knot. His chest rose steady under my fingers, a wall of muscle, while mine stuttered.
The tie slipped free, and he caught my wrist again, guiding it to his collar.
“Buttons next.”
Trembling, I obeyed, brushing hot skin, my breath catching at the scars I glimpsed. His smirk deepened, and he stepped back, shrugging off the shirt.
“Kneel,” he said, his tone leaving no room for refusal.
I did not want to do it but there was something in his voice that made my body to obey him. I lost the voice to deny him.
My knees hit the rug, panic surging, but his hand cupped my cheek, thumb tracing my lip. His rough thump grazed my skin and I closed my eyes.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his touch igniting a strange warmth.
He unbuckled his belt, the sound sharp in the silence, and my eyes widened.
“Not yet,” he chuckled, dark and knowing.
“Tomorrow, you’ll do more. Be ready.”
“ First, lets go through the contract “
What …… have I gotten myself into ? What contract?
- Writer
