CHAPTER 6 : The Gift’s Price

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Serene’s POV

The 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 from across the room.

My stomach flipped, and I gripped the spatula tighter, forcing my attention back to the eggs. Don’t look. Just work.

The front door buzzed, and a new voice cut through the air.

“Delivery, sir.”

I glanced up, startled, as a man stepped into the living room—tall, handsome, with brown hair and a crisp suit, carrying a box labeled with my name. My things—clothes, books, the last scraps of my old life.

What if those things included a proof, any clue that I was related to Julian and that I am here to spy.

I quickly plated the breakfast—eggs, bacon, toast—and hurried to the table, setting it before Nicholas. The stranger’s eyes flicked to me, polite but distant.

“Ms. Hart,” he said, voice smooth. “Your belongings are here.”

I nodded, timid, my voice a whisper. “Th-thank you.” My cheeks burned as I stepped back, clutching my apron.

“Serene.” Nicholas’s command stopped me cold, his phone now pocketed. My heart thundered like clouds on a rainy night. “Come here.”

My heart thudded, loud in my ears, as I turned to face him. His gaze pinned me, a predator’s stare, and I shuffled closer, each step heavy with dread. My fingers nervously fidgeted as I stood just steps away from him.

“Bend over the table,” he said, his tone low and firm.

My eyes widened, breath catching. “S-sir?” I glanced at the stranger—David, I assumed, by the name on the badge he wore—still standing by the box, unpacking my stuff with mechanical precision.

My stuff was being checked right in front of Nickolas even when she knew, his men had already examined her whole place. He didn’t look up, but his presence made me skin crawl with shame.

I gulped as my eyes landed on him who seemed to be frozen in place.

“I don’t repeat, little maid,” Nicholas growled, his patience a thin thread.

I hesitated, my hands trembling, then slowly bent over the table next to him, my ass facing him. It was humiliating. David was still there. I stared at the wood grain, eyes squeezed shut, willing David to disappear.

I braced for the sting of a spank, my body tensing, but instead, cool air brushed my thighs as Nicholas lifted my skirt. My breath hitched, a soft whimper escaping. His hand grazed my skin, massaging my still-bruised ass, the tenderness a stark contrast to last night’s punishment.

I shivered, caught between fear and a confusing warmth. My body twitched at the gentle touch on my red ass.

“David,” Nicholas said, voice steady, “get me the cream.”

My eyes snapped open, confusion swirling. Cream? David moved without a glance, retrieving a small tube from a drawer and handing it to Nicholas.

The cap clicked open, and I flinched as cold ointment touched my skin. Nicholas’s fingers spread it gently, soothing the red marks, his touch deliberate and slow. My legs trembled and I shivered harder, the sensation igniting a spark low in my belly—arousing, maddening, intensified by David’s silent presence feet away.

My cheeks burned, shame mixing with a heat I couldn’t name.

“Better?” Nicholas murmured, his voice a velvet tease, his fingers lingering, kneading my tender flesh.

“Y-yes, sir,” I whispered, voice trembling, barely audible over the thud of my pulse. The ointment cooled the sting, but his touch stoked something deeper, my body betraying me with a flush I couldn’t hide.

“David, adjust my schedule,” Nicholas said, his hand still working the cream in slow circles. “Push the board meeting to noon. I’ve got… priorities.” His tone dripped with intent, and my breath caught, the implication sinking in.

“Yes, boss,” David replied, voice flat, already turning to leave with my empty box. He didn’t look at me—not once—his indifference a shield, or maybe fear of Nicholas’s wrath.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving us alone, the silence thick with tension.

Nicholas’s hand paused, then slid up my thigh, a possessive claim. “Stand,” he ordered, and I obeyed, shaky legs lifting me upright. He turned me to face him, his gray eyes dark with hunger.

“You flinched less this time,” he said, smirking. “Learning already, little maid?”

My face burned, words failing me. “I… I don’t know,” I mumbled, eyes dropping to the floor.

Keeping my mouth shut was just gonna add fuel to his anger and obeying him was only the option to survive in this hell. The memory of last night’s mirror, my own moans, flashed hot in my mind. Did he know?

He already embarrassed me. I knew he was aware.

“You will,” he promised, stepping closer, his chest brushing mine. His fingers tilted my chin up, forcing my gaze to his. “You’re mine to mold. And you’ll like it—won’t you?”

Before I could answer, his phone buzzed on the table, shattering the moment. He cursed under his breath, snatching it up.

“What, Julian?” His tone sharpened, a blade unsheathed. My stomach dropped—Julian, the brother who’d trapped me here, his texts that were constant prod in my pocket.

Nicholas listened, his jaw tightening. Julian’s voice a distant threat through the speaker.

“How’d you like my gift, brother?” Julian’s tone was smooth, smug, dripping with mockery. “The little maid keeping you busy?”

Nicholas’s gaze slid to me, pinning me where I stood. I felt tiny under his stare, my black hair falling over my flushed cheeks and I just hoped he did not see. His smirk widened, dark and knowing.

“She’s naive,” he said, voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. “Needs to be taught. Her lessons start soon.”

I gulped, the lump in my throat choking me. Lessons? The word twisted in my gut, fear and a strange heat warring within me. I trembled, my hands fidgeting, imagining his hands, his commands, the sting of last night’s spanks. Tears prickled at the corner of my eyes.

Nicholas raised one finger, a silent signal, and crooked it toward me. “Come forward,” he ordered, his tone casual but unyielding.

My breath hitched, but my feet moved, a single shaky step closing the gap. He shifted, his hand darting under my skirt with brazen confidence, fingers finding my ass and grabbing hard.

His nails scratched the tender, bruised skin, a sharp jolt that made me gasp. My hand flew to my mouth, muffling the sound, my eyes squeezing shut as heat flooded my face—and lower.

The intimacy, his boldness, in the middle of a call—it overwhelmed me, my body betraying me with a shiver I couldn’t hide.

“She’s a gift from me to you,” Julian said, his voice tightening through the speaker, a hint of jealousy seeping through his bravado. “Treat her well, Nick. She’s… special.”

Nicholas’s grip tightened, kneading my flesh, his thumb brushing the edge of my panties. I bit my lip, a soft whimper escaping despite my efforts.

His eyes never left me, dark with possession, as he leaned closer to the phone. “Oh, I will,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr.

“But here’s the thing, Julian—she’s not just a gift. She’s my new toy… and I’m going to fuck her until she forgets your name.”

The words hit like a thunderclap. My eyes widened, a gasp choking in my throat, my knees buckling under his hold. Julian’s silence crackled through the line, shock palpable even from miles away.

We both didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect any of this. Nicholas’s smirk turned wicked, his hand still under my skirt, scratching my skin with deliberate intent. I trembled, caught between terror and a dark thrill, my mind reeling. Forget Julian’s name? The promise—or threat—hung heavy, a dirty line that shifted everything.

Julian finally sputtered, “You—what?” His voice cracked, rage and disbelief tangling. “She’s supposed to—”

“Supposed to what?” Nicholas cut in, his tone sharp now, a blade unsheathed.

“ take care of me. Quenching my sexual thirst is also part of the taking care of me “

His fingers dug deeper, pulling me closer, my leg brushing his thigh. My hand dropped from my mouth, a shaky breath escaping as I stared at him, wide-eyed and lost.

“ right, little maid? “