[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl-Chapter 22: Bathroom

I woke up slowly, wrapped in warmth.

Which was strange.

My apartment was always cold. The heating barely worked, and I’d gotten used to waking up shivering under my thin comforter.

But this?

This was soft.

Too soft.

I shifted slightly, sinking deeper into whatever I was lying on. Expensive sheets. The kind that felt like clouds. A mattress that probably cost more than my rent.

My brain was still foggy, half-asleep, trying to piece together,

Wait.

Wait.

My eyes snapped open.

This wasn’t my bed.

This wasn’t my apartment.

I bolted upright, heart hammering, and took in my surroundings.

A massive bedroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows with sunlight streaming through expensive curtains. Sleek modern furniture. A chandelier, an actual chandelier, hanging from the ceiling.

And me.

In the middle of a bed that could fit five people.

Oh God.

Oh no.

The memories slammed into me all at once.

The phone call. The car. The hotel. Cassian.

Cassian’s hands on me. His voice. The way he,

I screamed internally, hands flying to my face.

NO. NO NO NO.

I scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over the sheets, looking around frantically for my clothes.

There. On a chair by the window. Folded. Folded?

Who folded my clothes?

Did he fold my clothes?

I grabbed my jeans, my shirt, yanking them on with shaking hands.

Phone. I needed my phone.

I patted my pockets.

Empty.

I checked the nightstand. Nothing.

The dresser. The floor. Under the bed.

Where the hell is my phone?!

I was mid-panic when I heard voices.

Muffled. Coming from outside the bedroom.

I froze.

Oh God, there are people out there.

I crept toward the door, pressing my ear against it.

Multiple voices. Professional. Clipped.

And one I recognized immediately.

Cassian.

My stomach dropped.

I cracked the door open just a sliver, peeking through.

The living area of the suite was full of people.

A camera crew. Lighting equipment. A woman in a sleek blazer holding a microphone, smiling too brightly, leaning slightly toward,

Cassian.

He was sitting in one of the high-backed chairs near the window, legs crossed, looking every bit the powerful CEO. Hair perfectly styled. Suit immaculate. And,

Oh no.

He was wearing glasses.

Thin, black-framed glasses that made him look stupidly, unfairly, criminally hot.

He wasn’t even looking at the interviewer. Just flipping through a file in his lap, signing documents with a pen, completely unbothered by the woman practically throwing herself at him.

She was saying something, asking a question, probably, but he didn’t respond immediately. Just kept reading. Signing.

Finally, without looking up: "Mmhm. That’s correct."

The woman’s smile faltered slightly, but she recovered quickly, adjusting her blazer and leaning in closer.

I should’ve looked away.

I should’ve shut the door and figured out an escape plan.

But I couldn’t stop staring.

Because just then, the door to the suite opened.

And she walked in.

Lila.

My ex-girlfriend.

Holding two coffee cups.

I stopped breathing.

She walked straight to Cassian, setting one of the cups on the table beside him with a bright, practiced smile.

"Your coffee, Mr. Wolfe."

He didn’t even glance at her. Just nodded once, still focused on his paperwork.

Lila’s smile tightened, but she didn’t push. Just stepped back, hovering nearby like she was waiting for him to acknowledge her.

He didn’t.

I watched, frozen, as she stood there, clearly hoping for something, a look, a word, anything.

Nothing.

And then I saw movement in my peripheral vision.

A staff member. Heading toward the bedroom.

Shit.

I slammed the door shut as quietly as I could, heart pounding like a drum in my chest.

What is she doing here?!

I knew Lila worked in media. She wrote for some online gossip outlet, Pulse Daily or Trend Weekly or something equally vapid. And I knew they did video interviews sometimes.

But here?

With him?

My brain spiraled.

Does she know I’m here?

Does Cassian know she’s my ex?

Oh God, what if she finds out what happened last night?

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

I just stood there, back pressed against the door, trying not to hyperventilate.

Okay. Okay. Think.

You need to get out of here.

But how?

You can’t just walk out there. There are cameras. And Lila.

And Cassian, who will probably find this whole situation hilarious.

I glanced around the room, desperate for a solution.

And my eyes landed on the bathroom door.

Hide.

It wasn’t a plan. It was barely a thought.

But it was all I had.

I bolted into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, locking it for good measure.

And then I just... stood there.

Breathing hard. Heart racing. Brain scrambling to process the absolute insanity of my life.

I looked around.

The bathroom was obscene.

Marble everything. A shower big enough to fit six people. A bathtub that looked like it belonged in a spa. Gold fixtures. Heated floors. A mirror that was somehow backlit.

Of course.

Of course it’s this nice.

I caught my reflection in the mirror.

I looked like hell. Hair sticking up at odd angles. Eyes bloodshot. Face pale.

And my neck,

Oh God.

There was a faint bruise on my neck. Just below my jaw.

From last night.

From him.

I touched it gingerly, and a wave of shame crashed over me.

What am I doing?

What have I done?

I let the man my girlfriend left me for,

Ex-girlfriend, I corrected myself bitterly.

I let the man my ex-girlfriend left me for put his hands on me. Put his mouth on me. Make me fall apart like I was nothing.

And I’d liked it.

I’d been desperate for it.

Even now, standing here in his bathroom, I could still feel the ghost of his touch.

You’re pathetic, Noah.

The shower called to me.

I needed to wash this off. All of it. The shame. The humiliation. The lingering scent of his cologne on my skin.

I turned on the water, stripped off the clothes I’d just put on, and stepped under the spray.

The water was hot. Almost scalding.

I tilted my head back, letting it wash over me, and tried to think.

What would Lila say if she found out?

Would she care? Would she be disgusted? Angry?

Would she even believe it?

Probably not.

She’d left me for someone like him. Someone powerful. Wealthy. Dangerous.

And now here I was, tangled up in his games.

God, I’m such a mess.

I scrubbed at my skin, trying to erase the feeling of his hands.

But it didn’t work.

I could still feel him. Still hear his voice in my head.

"Such a good boy for me."

I shuddered, heat pooling low in my stomach despite everything.

Stop it. Stop thinking about it.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t hear the door open.

Didn’t hear footsteps.

Didn’t realize I wasn’t alone until,

"Well. This is a nice view."

I spun around, heart stopping.

Cassian.

Standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Leaning against the frame. Cigarette between his fingers. Smoke curling lazily upward.

And that look on his face.

Amused. Predatory.

Like he’d just found his favorite toy.

He took a slow drag, eyes dragging over me with deliberate, shameless interest.

Then he whistled. Low. Appreciative.

"You’ve got a better body than I gave you credit for, Noah."

My face exploded in heat.

"Get out!" I snapped, covering myself uselessly with my hands.

He didn’t move. Just smirked.

"You seem to have made yourself comfortable."

"You didn’t wake me up!" I shot back, voice rising. "I should’ve been gone hours ago!"

"I couldn’t help it." He stepped further into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. "You looked so peaceful. So pretty."

I glared at him. "It’s none of your business."

"Isn’t it?" He tilted his head, smoke drifting from his lips. "I have to say, I’m genuinely curious. Your ex-girlfriend left you for someone better. But looking at you now?" He let his gaze drag over me again, slow and deliberate. "You’ve got the face. The eyes. The body."

He paused, smirk widening.

"The ass."

My jaw dropped.

"And," he continued, utterly shameless, "you’re decently endowed. Not impressive, mind you. Average. But serviceable."

"Shut up, "

"So really," he mused, taking another drag, "what was her problem?"

I wanted to die.

Actually die.

Right there in his stupidly expensive shower.

"Where’s my phone?" I demanded, desperate to change the subject.

He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, waving it lazily.

"This?"

"Yes! Be careful with it!"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "You want it?"

"Obviously!"

"Then come get it."

I froze. "What?"

"Step out of the shower," he said simply. "And come get it."

"Why would I do that?!"

"Because you asked for your phone." He shrugged. "And I’m not coming in there to hand it to you."

"Just drop it and leave!"

His smile faded slightly. "You’re not ready for your phone yet."

He turned toward the door.

Panic surged.

"Wait, "

He stopped.

I stepped out of the shower, water dripping everywhere, and stretched out my hand.

Keeping as much distance as possible.

"Give it to me."

He looked at my outstretched hand.

Then back at my face.

And smiled.

He stepped forward, arm extending like he was going to hand it over,

And then he grabbed my wrist with his other hand and pulled.

I stumbled forward, crashing into him.

His arm instantly wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. He slid down. Lower. Cupping my ass. Squeezing.

"Cassian, " I gasped, trying to push him away.

He didn’t budge.

Just slipped my phone back into his pocket, exhaled smoke into my face and leaned in close.

His nose brushed my neck. Inhaling.

"You smell like me," he murmured, voice low and dark.

I shivered.

"It’s turning me on."

"Let go, "

He pulled me closer, hand still on my ass, fingers dangerously close to...

Oh God.

"Give me my phone," I choked out.

He ignored me.

"I can feel you getting hard, Noah."

My face burned. "I’m not, "

"You are." His hand squeezed again. "Still frustrated from last night?"

Yes.

I didn’t say it.

Couldn’t say it.

But my body betrayed me, pressing into him despite everything.

He chuckled, low and smug. "Should I help you finish? Right here?"

I couldn’t answer.

Couldn’t think.

And then his phone rang.

The spell shattered.

He pulled away, releasing me, and I stumbled back, cold and exposed.

He pulled his phone from his other pocket, pressed it to his ear, putting out his cig on the floor.

Then, without looking at me, he pulled my phone out and tossed it.

I caught it, fumbling, still trying to process what just happened.

He walked out.

Door closing behind him.

And I stood there.

Naked. Dripping. Hard.

And completely, utterly wrecked.