Billionaire’s Contracted Maid Is His Bride

THE FORBIDDEN ROOM

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Serene’s POV

Four days had slipped by since I last saw Nicholas Volkov, his absence a strange reprieve from the storm of his presence. He’d been swallowed by meetings—some high-stakes deal, I guessed—leaving me alone in the penthouse to cook, clean, and breathe.

And I was thankful of that.

I’d fallen into a rhythm, my hands steady as I scrubbed counters and simmered stews, the contract’s weight a dull ache I could almost ignore.

Almost. At night, though, my mind wandered—to his touch, his voice, the promise of “lessons” that hadn’t yet come. I wanted to contact Julian, tell him to get me out of here but my phone was taken and I had no means to reach to Julian.

I was trapped and now, surviving was my only option to stay alive.

I’d survived, I told herself, wiping down the kitchen island under the soft glow of a pendant light. It was 9 p.m., the city twinkling beyond the glass, and I was fine.

Until my eyes drifted to the door.

It stood at the end of the hall, heavy and dark, the one Nicholas had warned me about on my first day.

“Don’t go near it,” he’d growled, his gray eyes sharp with something I couldn’t name. I’d obeyed—fear kept me in line—but tonight, something tugged at me.

Curiosity, maybe, or the whisper of Julian’s voice in my head: “Get me information.” Now that I was here, I Had to find a clue , any piece of information that could help Julian in destroying Nickolas.

Four days without Nicholas felt like a chance, a crack in his armor. What if the room held something—papers, secrets—that could free me from their grip? My heart thudded, a mix of dread and intrigue, and I set the rag down, my slippers silent as I crept closer.

The knob gleamed, cold under my fingers. I expected it to be locked—prayed it would be—but it twisted with a soft click, the door easing open.

My breath caught, shock rippling through me. Unlocked? Why would he keep something so important, so exposing and unlocked. I hesitated, then summoned courage, stepping inside.

The room wasn’t dark—dimly lit by recessed lights, casting long shadows. I squinted, searching for a switchboard, my pulse racing as I ventured deeper.

My foot brushed a plush rug, and suddenly, the lights flared on—bright, automatic, blinding.

My eyes widened, a gasp choking in my throat.

The room was massive, its walls lined with… s*x toys. Whips, cuffs, paddles, ropes—all arranged like art, gleaming under the glow.

A red bed dominated the center, satin sheets glinting, a throne of sin. My heart pounded, realization crashing in—this was his red room, a private den of desires I couldn’t fathom.

I stumbled back, shock rooting me to the spot, my naive mind reeling. I’d heard whispers of such places, but here? With Nicholas?

“Care to explain, little deer?”

His deep voice sliced through the silence, a thunderclap that made me jump. I spun, heart slamming against my ribs, and there he was—Nicholas, leaning against the doorway, his towering frame filling the space.

His suit was rumpled, sleeves pushed up, black-dark hair mussed from a long day. His gray eyes locked onto me, dark with a mix of amusement and danger, and my knees buckled.

“I—I didn’t—” I stammered, my voice a frantic whisper, too overwhelmed to form words. My chest heaved, panic surging as I met his gaze. He smirked, a slow, predatory curve of his lips, and stepped forward, rolling his sleeves higher with deliberate calm.

“Did not expect you to muster up the courage so soon but now that you have disobeyed me, You need to be punished, right, kitten?” he said, his tone a velvet threat that sent shivers down my spine.

I tried to speak, my mouth opening and closing, but nothing came out—just a soft whimper as he closed the distance.

His presence swallowed the room, his scent—cedar and bourbon—flooding my senses. He stopped inches away, watching my chest rise and fall, my breaths quick and shallow under my thin shirt. My hands twisted in my apron, fear and anticipation tangling in my gut.

He bent down, his lips brushing my ear, his breath hot and teasing. “Today starts your lesson number one,” he whispered, the words sinking into me like a brand.

My eyes widened, a tremble running through me as his hand grazed my arm, firm and possessive. I didn’t know what he meant—punishment, lesson, the toys glaring from the walls—but my body responded, a flush creeping up my neck.

His fingers slid to my wrist, pulling me closer, my shoes scuffing the rug. I felt small, fragile, caught in his orbit, and his smirk deepened, reading me like an open book.

“W-what are you—” I managed, my voice breaking, but he pressed a finger to my lips, silencing me.

“Shh,” he murmured, his hand slipping to my waist, tugging me against him. His chest was a wall of muscle, his arousal evident through his trousers, and my breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping.

“You broke my rule, Serene. Now you learn the consequences.” His other hand reached for the wall, plucking a leather paddle from its hook, the sight making me heart lurch.

I shook my head, tears prickling. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean—”

“Too late,” he cut in, voice low and firm. He turned me, guiding me to the bed, my knees brushing the red satin.

“Bend over.”

My mind screamed to run, but my feet stayed rooted, my body bending under his command. The cool fabric pressed against my stomach, my skirt riding up as I braced my hands on the mattress. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the sting, but his hand lingered on my hip, a tease before the punishment.

“You wanted to see,” he said, his tone dark with promise.

“Now you’ll feel.”

The paddle hovered, a shadow in my peripheral vision, and my breath caught, anticipation and fear twisting into something I couldn’t name.