[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl-Chapter 32: Distraction

Ignoring Cassian’s calls would have consequences.

I knew that.

Cassian didn’t do disobedience. He didn’t even understand the concept of someone telling him no. And I knew exactly what kind of punishment he had waiting for me on the other end of those missed calls.

But right now, standing alone on that empty street with everything in my life unraveling like cheap thread...

I couldn’t bring myself to give a single damn.

All I wanted was silence. Oblivion. A way out of my own head.

A way to stop feeling like my entire chest was being hollowed out with a blunt spoon.

My hands shook as I pulled up my phone settings, breath unsteady. One swipe, and his incoming rage turned into a quiet little icon.

Silent.

The screen went black, and something inside me felt like it did too.

I shoved the phone into my pocket and kept moving, step after step, like momentum was the only thing keeping me upright.

I walked past the bus stop where I normally waited after work.

Past the corner store that was locking up, the owner pulling down the metal shutter without even glancing at me.

Past everything familiar.

Until the sidewalk spat me out onto the main road, and I lifted a hand to flag down a cab.

The driver didn’t question the mess in front of him, bloody knuckles, rumpled clothes, eyes that looked like they’d seen a funeral.

He just gave me a long look in the rearview mirror and asked, "Where to?"

I told him the address.

The same club where everything had started.

Where I’d met him.

Where my world had veered off its axis because I’d been drunk enough and stupid enough to throw a punch at a stranger.

Maybe I was trying to punish myself.

Maybe I was chasing the memory of who I’d been before I ruined everything.

Maybe I just wanted to disappear under enough noise and alcohol that I couldn’t hear my own thoughts.

The driver nodded and steered into traffic.

I stared out the window, watching the city smear into streaks of color and light.

People living their lives. Laughing. Existing.

And I felt like some kind of ghost drifting beside them, untethered and unseen.

When the cab pulled up to the club, it was exactly as I remembered it.

Loud. Harsh. Too alive.

The bass thumped through the walls in violent, pulsing waves, rattling my ribs like it was trying to force its way into my bloodstream.

I paid the driver and stepped out, the noise vibrating through the pavement.

A different bouncer stood at the door this time, bigger, older, not even glancing twice at my ID before waving me in.

Inside, the place was chaos.

Strobe lights slicing the darkness into fragments.

Bodies pressed together in a humid, moving mass that smelled like sweat, alcohol, and desperation trying to hide itself behind expensive perfume.

I shoved my way toward the bar, each step heavier than the last.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked.

He wasn’t the same one from before. This guy was younger, bleached hair catching the lights, name tag reading Luke. His gaze dragged over my hands, still raw and split, then up to the look in my eyes.

Something in his expression shifted.

"Rough night?" he asked, already reaching for a bottle.

The laugh that escaped me felt like it came from someone else, someone cracked down the middle.

"You have no idea."

He poured something amber into a glass and slid it across the counter to me.

I didn’t bother smelling it or asking what it was. I just tossed it back in one brutal swallow.

The burn hit instantly, sharp, punishing, scorching down my throat and blooming like wildfire in my gut.

For a second, it almost felt good. Almost.

I set the glass down harder than I meant to.

"Another."

Luke hesitated, eyes flicking over me like he was deciding if he should cut me off.

Then he poured.

I threw that one back too. And the next.

And the next.

The alcohol hit fast, a punch straight to the bloodstream.

I hadn’t eaten since lunch... barely touched dinner earlier so there was nothing in my stomach to slow it down.

Just empty space ready to soak it all in.

The edges of the world softened, smeared like wet paint.

Then the memories came.

My father’s hand slamming across my face, the sound ringing louder than the club’s bass.

Nick’s cruel smirk when he’d spat, "Good riddance."

Lila’s voice on the phone, sweet and warm, pretending she missed me while she was already halfway out the door.

I gestured vaguely for another drink.

Luke didn’t even ask this time, just poured and slid it over.

The bass from the dance floor hammered into my skull, matching the frantic rhythm of my heartbeat.

People moved past me, laughing, shouting, dancing just streaks of color and movement in my peripheral vision.

Someone bumped me, muttered a quick apology, vanished again.

I tossed back another drink.

Time blurred. Minutes, hours, who knew.

At some point, a hand wrapped around my arm.

I blinked up, trying to focus.

A girl stood in front of me. Gorgeous. Self-assured. Dark hair spilling over her shoulders, red lips curved in a smile that was equal parts flirtation and opportunity. Her eyes were bright with alcohol and hunger.

She leaned in, sliding her hand up my arm until it rested over my chest.

"You look like you need a distraction," she murmured, her voice warm and laced with suggestion.

A distraction.

God, yeah.

Anything to stop the avalanche happening inside my head.

"Yeah," I said, the word slurring slightly. "Yeah, I do."

Her smile widened looking pleased, triumphant and she laced her fingers through mine, tugging me away from the bar.

We pushed through the crowd until she found a dark corner drowned in shadows, the music a little less violent here.

She pressed me against the wall, her body molding to mine, and kissed me. I could taste the alcohol, lipstick and heat.

Her tongue slid into my mouth, and I kissed her back out of reflex, out of desperation, out of the hope that maybe it would drown something.

It didn’t.

Her hand drifted lower, palming me through my jeans with practiced confidence.

"Let me take care of you," she whispered against my lips.

Before I could even process it, she was sinking to her knees.

Unzipping and freeing me.

Taking me into her mouth with eager, sloppy enthusiasm.

And...

No response.

No matter how hard I tried... how much I wanted to feel something, anything my body refused to respond. It was like the alcohol had hollowed me out and left nothing but echoes.

My mind didn’t even stay in the present. It didn’t stay with the girl kneeling in front of me, lips smeared red, hands on my hips. It went straight back to him.

Cassian’s hand around my jaw, firm and unyielding, fingers digging in just enough to remind me who was in control.

His voice, low and commanding, curling around my spine like smoke.

"Open up. That’s it. Good boy."

The memory hit me so hard it was physical: the weight of him on my tongue, the thickness of him stretching my throat, the humiliating burn in my lungs as I gagged and he held me still, watching me with that dark, unreadable stare like I existed solely for his pleasure.

My stomach twisted.

The girl looked up at me, confusion furrowing her brows before irritation took over. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, smudging her lipstick into a red smear.

"Are you serious right now?" she snapped.

Heat shot through me... not arousal, just shame. Hot, choking, suffocating shame. My hands shook as I tried to tuck myself back into my jeans, fumbling like I’d never used zippers before.

"I—I’m sorry," I stammered, stepping back so fast I nearly tripped. "I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m—just..."

I didn’t stay long enough to hear what she said next. I just bolted, through the crowd, past bodies and lights and music that felt too loud, too bright, too alive.

I went straight back to the bar, the only place in this whole damn club that had offered any relief.

I collapsed onto the counter, my forehead resting against my folded arms, breath coming shallow and uneven.

"Another," I muttered.

Luke appeared in front of me, concern finally breaking through his bartender neutrality. His voice hovered somewhere between worried and stern. "Man, maybe you should slow down..."

"Just give me the fucking drink," I snarled without looking up.

There was a brief pause... hesitation, doubt, then the sound of liquid hitting glass. He slid it toward me. I lifted my head just enough to knock it back in one motion.

What’s wrong with me?

The question spiraled in my head, relentless, tightening around my skull like a vise.

I can’t even get off with a random girl without thinking about him. Cassian. His hands on me. His mouth on my neck. His breath against my ear.

His voice telling me what I was. What he’d made me. The way he looked at me like he owned every inch of my body and the sickening part was that my body believed him.

Maybe I’d end up dead in a ditch tonight.

The thought drifted through my mind, slow and detached, like it was someone else thinking it. It didn’t scare me. It barely registered at all.

Would anyone even care?

My father? No.

My mother? She’d probably sleep better.

Nick? He’d laugh. Maybe toast to it.

Lila? She wouldn’t notice unless it ruined her weekend plans.

And Cassian...

Cassian would shrug, find someone new, someone better. Someone stronger. Someone who didn’t completely fall apart the second the world pushed back.

The room tilted suddenly, a sharp lurch that sent my stomach rolling. My vision blurred around the edges, colors bleeding together in soft, nauseating smears. The bass rattled through my bones like thunder underwater.

Somewhere above me, Luke’s voice broke through, muffled and distant.

"Hey. Buddy. You okay?"

I tried to answer but my tongue felt heavy, useless. The counter rose up to meet me.. or maybe I fell forward. My forehead hit the bar with a dull, echoing thud.

Then everything went black.