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CHAPTER 6: THE 6:30 MASK
publish date:
2026-06-16 01:54:01
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BOUGHT BY THE RUTHLESS CEO CHAPTER 6: THE 6:30 MASK
CLARA'S POV The digital numbers on the penthouse’s built-in bedside display flickered to 5:45 AM. I had been staring at them for the last three hours. My body ached. The unfulfilled heat Ares had deliberately kindled inside me had long since cooled into a dull knot in my stomach. He wanted me broken. He expected me to be late, heavy-lidded, and weeping—a fragile, discarded item waiting to beg for his mercy. I pushed the silk duvet aside, my bare feet hitting the hardwood floor. Not happening, Ares. By 6:15 AM, I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling bathroom mirror, adjusting the high collar of a structured cream silk blouse. It was the only item from my transferred wardrobe that fully covered my throat. Beneath the delicate fabric, the skin still burned. I applied a layer of high-coverage concealer beneath my eyes, systematically erasing the faint shadows of my sleepless night until my face was perfect. I stepped into a pair of sharp, black tailored trousers and slippe
BOUGHT BY THE RUTHLESS CEO CHAPTER 5: THE MASTER ENCRYPTION
~CLARA'S POV~The bathroom of the guest suite was as cold and sterile as the rest of Ares Volkov’s kingdom.I turned the heavy metal dial until the shower water ran near-scalding, letting the steam thick with the scent of high-altitude ozone fill the marble space. Stepping under the spray, I didn't cry. I didn't let myself freeze. Instead, I took the expensive, unscented soap provided in the stall and thoroughly scrubbed my skin, desperate to wash away the lingering warmth of his touch, the scent of his cedarwood cologne, and the absolute humiliation of being left broken and discarded on his floor.The heat turned my skin into a dark, angry pink, but it couldn't penetrate the permanent frost settling deep within my core.By the time I stepped out and pulled on a simple, oversized silk robe from the closet, the clock on the nightstand read 2:14 AM. Less than five hours remained before my administrative shift at Volkov Global officially began.Sleep, however, was a luxury I could no lon
BOUGHT BY THE RUTHLESS CEO CHAPTER 4: WHAT HE FAILED TO SEE
~CLARA'S POV~ “Watch how low you are, little bird.” His voice came low and cold against my ear, the kind of tone that slipped beneath my skin and stayed there. My reflection stared back at me in the dim light—flushed cheeks, trembling lips, tangled hair spilling over my shoulders. I barely recognized the woman trapped in the glass. She looked small standing beside him. Fragile. Ares’s fingers curled tighter into the collar of my tailored blazer. For one suspended second, neither of us moved. Then, with a brutal, commanding tug, he ripped the heavy charcoal jacket off my shoulders, sending it flying across the floor. His hands immediately found the buttons of my blouse, tearing through the silk of my camisole underneath with an impatient fury. Cool air rushed over my exposed skin, making a violent shiver crawl through me. Heat and humiliation burned together in my chest as he pressed my bare back tighter against him, the cold surface of the mirror biting against my skin.
BOUGHT BY THE RUTHLESS CEO CHAPTER 3: THE PENALTY CLAUSE
CLARA'S POV When the clock on my desk finally struck eight, Ares didn't say a word. He merely stood up from his mahogany command center, shrugged into his overcoat, and walked toward the private executive elevator. I followed a step behind him like a well-trained shadow, my hands clutching the handles of my briefcase so tightly the leather groaned under the pressure. The ride down to his private garage was a countdown, the heavy silence in the enclosed space pressing against my ribs until I could barely breathe. By the time his sleek, midnight-black town car pulled into the subterranean garage of his residential fortress, the city had completely dissolved into the dark. We rode the private elevator straight to the top floor. When the doors slid open, the scale of Ares’s private kingdom hit me all at once. The penthouse was a masterclass in architectural arrogance—floor-to-ceiling glass walls offering a panoramic view of the glittering skyline, wrapped entirely in shades of obsi
BOUGHT BY THE RUTHLESS CEO CHAPTER 2: DAY ONE AT VOLKOV GLOBAL
~CLARA'S POV~ The flight didn't last long enough to quiet the panic in my chest. By the time the matte-black helicopter touched down on the private skyscraper helipad, my fingers were practically frozen to the edges of the leather-bound contract. I kept my shoulders squared as I walked through the hyper-modern, marble-clad lobby, ignoring the immediate, suffocating silence that fell over the reception desk the second my boots clicked across the polished floor. I was dressed in a sharp, structured charcoal suit—professional, armor-like, and a far cry from the silk evening gown I had been forced to sport on the auction stage hours prior. My neck burned beneath the high collar of my blouse, a weight reminding me of the heavy silver collar currently locked away in my bag. "Clara Sterling?" A sharp-eyed woman with a tight blonde bun and a tablet clipped to her hip stepped directly into my path, cutting off my stride. Her gaze flicked down my outfit, lingering for a second on my f
BOUGHT BY THE RUTHLESS CEO PROLOGUE
~CLARA'S POV~ "Going once... going twice... Sold for fifty million dollars to the gentleman in the shadows." The strike of the mahogany gavel sounded like a gunshot in the plush, suffocating silence of the underground room. I closed my eyes, my nails digging into my palms until I broke the skin. I was standing on a literal stage, dressed in a silk gown that felt more like a shroud. Around my neck was a delicate, heavy silver collar—the symbolic brand of the Midnight Gala. I had just sold my life. My freedom. My body. Everything. Fifty million dollars, I thought bitterly. Just enough to pay off the fraudulent debts and keep my father out of a federal penitentiary. "Step forward, Item 43," the masked auctioneer droned, his voice devoid of any human empathy. I forced my trembling legs to move, stepping down the stairs toward the private V.I.P. booth where my buyer sat. The lighting in the gala was intentionally dim, keeping the identities of the monstrously wealthy men hidd
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