[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl-Chapter 60: Cassie?

The day dragged on. Cassian was a ghost. He didn’t speak to me, didn’t look at me, and only gave me tasks through clipped, one-word commands. It was unnerving. I found myself hovering near the edge of his vision, almost hoping for a glare.

But then, the vibe of the site changed.

I noticed it first. I’ve spent my life being the guy no one notices, so I’m hyper-aware of when people start looking.

It started with the phones. Group of locals, maybe students or tourists, were lingering near the restricted fence. They weren’t looking at the architecture. They were looking at us. Specifically, at me and Alex.

"Is that him?" a girl whispered, not even trying to be quiet.

"Yeah," her friend replied, holding up a phone and zooming in. "That’s Alexander Hendrix. And look... is that the guy?"

My stomach dropped.

Alex was mid-sentence, talking to me about some charity gala, blissfully oblivious. Click. A camera shutter. Click. Another one.

"Wow," a sharp voice said from the fence. "So that’s the assistant? He looks... small."

My ears began to burn. I stared at my clipboard, trying to melt into the concrete.

"He’s kind of cute in a pathetic way," another voice snickered. "Is he like an intern? Or just a glorified bag-carrier?"

"Probably just a lowly secretary," a girl with bright red lipstick sneered. "Figures. Hendrix always picks the pretty, harmless ones."

"So you just hang around powerful men all day?" a guy shouted toward me, laughing. "Must be nice. Bet that’s how he got the job. On his knees."

The laughter that followed was sharp and cruel. I froze. My brain was screaming at me to say something, to tell them to fuck off, to defend my professional dignity, but my throat felt like it was full of sand. I felt small. I felt like the "toy" Cassian accused me of being.

Alex finally noticed. He turned, his ’hero’ mask slipping for a second. "Hey! This area is restricted. You need to move along."

"We just wanted a picture!" the girl yelled back. "Why is he with you? Is he your boyfriend? Or does he belong to the other guy?"

They started laughing again, pointing their phones at me like weapons. I felt exposed, humiliated, and utterly alone.

Then, the air changed.

It didn’t just get colder; it got heavier. I smelled him before I saw him, the scent of iron and expensive soap.

Cassian didn’t run. He didn’t yell. He simply walked into the space between me and the fence. He was a wall of black fabric and lethal intent. He stepped directly in front of me, his massive frame completely blocking the cameras and the cruel faces of the crowd.

He didn’t touch me, but his hand settled just behind my back, the heat of his palm radiating through my shirt like a brand.

"This is a restricted site," Cassian said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it had the vibration of a low-frequency hum that made the fence rattle. "You are trespassing."

The girl with the red lipstick scoffed nervously, her phone wavering. "We’re just fans! We weren’t, "

Cassian’s gaze landed on her. I couldn’t see his face, but I saw her entire body flinch. She went silent instantly.

Security guards, the big, scary ones who usually ignored everyone, suddenly appeared as if they’d teleported. They moved with a terrifying, synchronized speed, swarming the group before they could even protest.

Cassian didn’t look back at me. His voice dropped half an octave, intended only for my ears.

"Are you hurt."

It wasn’t a question. It was a command for a status report.

"N, no," I squeaked. "I’m fine."

Cassian’s jaw tightened. I could see the muscle leaping in his cheek. He finally turned, looking down at me. His eyes were like polished flint, hard, dark, and utterly unreadable. But he stayed angled toward me, his body a literal shield against the world.

"Go inside," he said quietly. "Now."

"But I have to, "

Cassian leaned closer, his shadow engulfing me. "That wasn’t a suggestion, Noah."

I didn’t argue. I turned and bolted toward the site trailer, my face burning and my heart thumping against my ribs. As I hurried away, I heard his voice one last time, cold and final.

"Escort them off the premises. Permanently."

The word permanently sounded like a trapdoor shutting.

I sat in the trailer, shaking. I felt relieved, embarrassed, and, worst of all, completely shaken by how quickly the world had bent the moment Cassian stepped in. He was a monster, a murderer, and a tyrant... but he was the only thing that had stood between me and that humiliation.

The inspection ended shortly after. When we got back to the car, Cassian didn’t tell the driver to go to the hotel. He barked an address in a language I didn’t recognize.

"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to sound brave.

"You look like a disaster," Cassian muttered, looking out the window. "I won’t have my staff looking like they bought their clothes at a charity auction."

We pulled up to a street that practically screamed ’wealth.’ We stopped in front of a boutique that didn’t even have a sign, just a gold-leafed ’K’ on the glass door.

Inside, it was like a fever dream of luxury. Velvet walls, gold trimmings, and racks of clothes that looked like they belonged in a museum. The staff flocked to Cassian like he was a returning king.

"Where is he?" Cassian demanded, looking bored. "Where is the peacock?"

"Mr. King is in the back, sir! I’ll get him immediately!"

"CASSIE!"

A voice like a glitter-cannon exploded from the back of the shop. I blinked, and suddenly there was a blur of motion.

A man came charging out of the dressing rooms. He was tall, lithe, and wearing a suit that was a dizzying shade of emerald green. But it was his hair that got me, it was long, silky, and a vibrant, shocking shade of bubblegum pink, tied back in a messy but somehow stylish knot.

"CASSIE! YOU CRUEL, GORGEOUS BASTARD!"

Before I could even process the name ’Cyan King,’ the pink-haired whirlwind launched himself at Cassian.

I expected Cassian to catch him and throw him across the room. I expected a lawsuit. I expected violence.

Instead, Cassian just stood there with an expression of profound suffering as Cyan jumped on him, wrapping his legs around Cassian’s waist and his arms around his neck.

And then, my jaw hit the floor, Cyan leaned in and kissed Cassian right on the mouth. A loud, smacking, completely casual kiss.

I stood there, blinking like an owl. Eh?

Cassie?