[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl Chapter 113: Unexpected

NOAH

The high-pitched, digital shriek of my alarm didn’t just wake ; it felt like a physical assault, a needle driving straight through my temple to pull out of the rciful numbness of sleep.

For a second, I didn’t know where I was. The ceiling was too low, the air slled like stale hotel climate control and sothing bitter. Then I shifted, and the cramped, stiff protest of my muscles reminded .

The couch. I had spent the night on the couch because the bedroom felt too empty, or perhaps because I didn’t want to wake up in the sa bed where I’d once felt the aftermath of Cassian’s touch on my body and ached for more.

I groaned, burying my face into the cushion. My head throbbed with the ghost of a hangover I hadn’t even earned... just the sheer weight of emotional exhaustion.

My chest felt like it had been hollowed out with an ice cream scoop, leaving nothing but a cold, aching void.

The alarm kept going. Relentless. I finally forced myself up, my joints cracking in the silence. I stumbled across the plush carpet to where my phone lay on the floor. I picked it up, the screen spider-webbing from the impact of last night’s breakdown. Through the cracks, the reminder light flickered: Site Inspection – 9:00 AM. Collect docunts from office first.

Right. The world hadn’t stopped spinning just because my life had imploded. I still had a job. I still had to function.

I stood there for a long minute, staring at the broken glass in my palm. My mind tried to drift toward the cliff’s edge... toward Cassian’s cold eyes, toward the celebratory news about Nicholas, toward the fact that I was officially a man without a contractual chain around my neck or a family.

No. Stop. Don’t go there.

I forced myself into the bathroom. I showered until the water turned cold, dressed in my best suit, and straightened my tie with trembling fingers. Autopilot. That was the only way I was going to survive the next twelve hours. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Just breathe in and out and pretend you are the professional everyone expects you to be.

My phone buzzed while I was buttoning my shirt. Alex’s na appeared through the cracks of the screen. I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the ’decline’ button. But then I rembered: I was free. There was no contract. No Cassian looming over my shoulder like a shadow. I answered.

"Hello?"

"Morning, Noah! You up?" Alex’s voice was like a bucket of warm sunlight, startlingly cheerful compared to the graveyard in my head.

"Yeah," I said, trying to steady my voice. "Just getting ready."

"Perfect timing. I was thinking... we need to grab those final docunts from the temporary office before the site inspection, right? Why don’t we go together? I can pick you up, and we can grab breakfast after. My treat."

I paused. Two weeks ago, I would have checked my schedule, checked with Cassian, checked my own heart. Now, there was nothing to check. "Sure," I said, a strange, hollow sensation of liberty washing over . "That sounds good."

"Great! I’ll et you in the lobby in twenty?"

"Yeah. See you then."

The morning with Alex felt like stepping out of a dark, cramped room into an open field. The temporary office was quiet, the air slling of fresh toner and expensive espresso. Alex walked beside , his presence easy and unburdened. He talked about the structural progress, about the local architecture, about how beautiful the diterranean looked at dawn.

I nodded and responded when I had to, playing the part of the competent assistant. Alex was professional, yes, but he was warm. He laughed at his own mistakes. He held doors open. He didn’t make feel like I was walking on eggshells. It was so vastly different from Cassian, who was all sharp edges and freezing silences. Alex was... easy.

We sat across from each other at an upscale breakfast café, sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. It was beautiful, but the light felt too honest for soone who felt as dirty as I did.

"So," Alex said, leaning back as our coffee arrived. "How are you settling in with everything? You look like you haven’t slept much, Noah."

"Fine," I lied, gripping the warm ceramic of my mug. "It’s just been a lot. The move, the project..."

Alex watched for a long mont, his smile fading into sothing softer, more intense.

I felt the nervousness creep in and slowly suffocate from his stare alone.

"W-what? Is sothing on my face?" I managed to blurt out.

And then....

"I like you, Noah."

I froze. My coffee mug stopped halfway to my mouth. "What?"

"I said I like you," he repeated, his gaze steady.

I was speechless. Dumbfounded. I had felt the sparks, the lingering looks, but to hear it out loud... to have it laid out so plainly... it made my heart do a nervous, frantic dance. I tried to fumble for an answer, my mind racing through a dozen "thank yous" or "I’m sorrys."

Alex held up a hand, stopping , leaning forward. So forward that I could sll the woodsy scent of his cologne... It didn’t compare to Cassian though.

"I didn’t say it to get a response, Noah. I know you’re still hesitant. I know there’s a lot on your mind. But I want you to know how much I care about you. Truly."

"Thank you, Alex," I whispered, relief flooding that I didn’t have to provide a verdict right then.

But as he continued talking about his expansion plans, I couldn’t help but think about it. I had never been with a man. My only experience with... that side of myself was the confused, electric tension I felt with Cassian.

No. Stop thinking about him.

Alex likes you. Alex thinks you’re worth sothing. He wants you for who you are, not for a contract, not as a tool. He doesn’t think you’re a failure or that you aren’t worth anything. Maybe this was the fresh start I needed. Maybe I could learn to like him back.

But then, Alex said sothing that made the hair on my arms stand up. "I believe in taking care of the people who work for . Really taking care of them. Not just... using them."

The way he said "using" felt pointed. Sharp. Like he knew exactly what Cassian was doing to . I didn’t push him on it. I was too tired for more revelations.

Throughout the morning, I was a slave to my phone. My hand would reach for it without my permission, scrolling through the cracked screen looking for a notification that wasn’t there.

What was I looking for? A text from Cassian? An apology? A new command? Not that I’d obey but...

There was nothing. Just the old ssages... his terse, one-word commands, his occasional, begrudging "Good work." I scrolled through them like a masochist, torturing myself with the mory of a man who had already thrown away.

No. A man who finally gave what I begged for. I’d lock the phone, shove it deep into my pocket, and then five minutes later, I’d be checking it again.

We arrived at the construction site mid-morning. It was a hive of activity, the skeletal fra of the hotel rising up against the blue sky like a promise. Cranes groaned, workers shouted in Spanish, and the air was thick with the scent of sawdust and hot tar.

Alex stepped out of the car, instantly shifting into "Boss" mode. He was confident, charismatic, shaking hands with everyone we passed. I followed with my clipboard, my eyes scanning the site involuntarily. I was looking for him. The tall, broad-shouldered silhouette. The sll of expensive cigars. The terrifying weight of his presence.

But the site felt empty.

"Morning, Rodriguez," Alex said, approaching the site manager. "How’s everything looking?"

"Mr. Hendrix. Everything is on schedule," the man replied, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Excellent," Alex said, his tone casual. "Is Mr. Wolfe around today?"

My heart stuttered. I held my breath.

"No, sir. Haven’t seen him today. Just you and Mr. Bennett for the inspection."

"Alright. Let’s get started then."

As we walked the site, I tried to focus. I really did. I looked at foundation depths and safety protocols, but my mind was a thousand miles away. I forced smiles. I made notes. I pretended that I wasn’t a walking wound.

It was impossible not to notice how much the workers loved Alex. He knew their nas. He asked about their wives. He was the antithesis of Cassian’s cold, imperial rule.

Maybe he’d make a decent boyfriend, I thought, then imdiately felt a wave of vertigo. Am I really considering this? What has Cassian done to ? Have I forgotten about Lila entirely? The mory of my ex-girlfriend felt like a black-and-white movie from a different century.

We were reviewing the upper-level frawork when the shouting started. A woman was pushing past security, a cara swinging around her neck and a recorder thrust forward like a weapon.

"Mr. Hendrix! Mr. Hendrix, can you comnt on the allegations?"

Allegations?

What is she talking about?

Alex’s smile didn’t falter, but I saw it... a flicker in his eyes. Sothing dark and cold that vanished as quickly as it appeared. "I’m sorry, this is a private inspection," he said smoothly.

"What about the incident in Barcelona?" the reporter shouted, ignoring the security guards grabbing her arms. "The woman who accused you of assault? The pattern, Mr. Hendrix! Three won in five years? All of them dropping their cases mysteriously?"

My stomach dropped. I looked at Alex.

"That was investigated and dismissed," Alex said, his voice tightening. "Completely unfounded."

"And the man who died? Ricardo Fuentes? The one who threatened to expose your payoffs?"

My blood ran cold. Died?

Alex stepped toward her. He wasn’t yelling, but there was a steel in his voice that made the air feel thin. "That was a tragic accident. Nothing more. You’re making serious accusations without evidence. I’d be careful if I were you."

Security finally dragged her away, her voice fading as she scread about NDAs and silenced victims.

I stood there, frozen.

Alex turned back to , the warm, easy smile sliding back onto his face like a mask. "I’m sorry you had to see that, Noah," he said, shaking his head. "Success breeds jealousy. People love to tear you down with tabloid lies. None of it’s true, of course."

"Who... who was she?" I stamred.

"A hack. Looking for a payday," he waved it off. "Co on. Let’s finish up. Don’t let her ruin our day."

I followed him, but my gut was screaming. The way he had dismissed her... the ice in his eyes when that man’s na was ntioned... it reminded of soone. It reminded of a Wolfe.

I was too overwheld to process it. I was too broken to care about a reporter’s claims. I just wanted to go ho.

Then, a site worker ca running toward us, his face pale and eyes wide. He bypassed and went straight to Alex.

"Mr. Hendrix... sir..." he panted.

"What is it?" Alex asked, his voice sharp.

"It’s Mr. Wolfe," the man whispered, his voice trembling. "He was in a car accident. A bad one. They say the car flipped and tumbled..."

The rest of the words blurred out in my mind.

The world tilted. The site, the sun, the clipboard in my hand... it all faded into nothing. My blood didn’t just go cold; it turned to ice in my veins.

What?