[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl Chapter 16: USEFUL

NOAH

I thought my day couldn’t get worse.

I was wrong.

I’d barely settled into my new workspace, a sleek glass-walled office on the executive floor that scread "you don’t belong here", when he walked in.

Cassian Wolfe.

My new boss. My torntor. The man who currently held my life, my career, and apparently my body in the palm of his perfectly manicured hand.

He looked Infuriatingly put-together. Charcoal suit tailored within an inch of its life. Hair swept back on one side just enough to look effortlessly stylish. That sa cold, sharp expression that made my stomach twist with equal parts dread and sothing I absolutely refused to acknowledge.

I looked up from my computer, already exhausted, and couldn’t stop myself.

"Are you here to bother ... Sir?"

The words ca out sharper than I intended, but I was too tired to care.

Cassian stopped in the doorway, one eyebrow arching slowly.

"Bother you?" he repeated, voice dangerously soft. "No, Noah. I’m actually going to make you useful."

My stomach sank.

He stepped fully into the office, closing the door behind him with a quiet click that felt far too final.

"There’s a eting tomorrow morning at nine," he said, moving to stand in front of my desk. "With the board and several potential investors for the Hendrix developnt project. I need a comprehensive presentation, market analysis, projected ROI, risk assessnt, competitive positioning, design mockups, tiline breakdown."

I stared at him.

"That’s... that’s a lot," I said slowly.

"Yes."

"For a eting tomorrow morning."

"Correct."

"It’s already past two in the afternoon."

"I’m aware." He tilted his head, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. "Problem?"

Yes, you psychopath, there’s a fucking problem!

"That’s less than twenty hours," I said instead, trying to keep my voice level. "Most of that is overnight. I’d need access to financial data, design files, market research, "

"Already sent to your email."

I blinked. "What?"

"Everything you need is in your inbox," he said, adjusting his cuffs with maddening calm. "Along with the template I want you to follow and notes on the key points to emphasize."

My jaw clenched. "This is impossible."

"No," he corrected. "It’s difficult. There’s a difference."

"I can’t, "

"You can." His voice dropped, just slightly. Just enough to remind exactly what was at stake here. "And you will. Unless you’d like to revisit our earlier conversation about consequences?"

My mouth snapped shut.

He leaned down, hands braced on my desk, bringing us almost eye-level.

"You agreed to this, Noah," he said softly. "You agreed to be useful. So be useful."

The air between us felt suffocating. Too close. Too warm. I could sll his cologne, sothing dark and expensive that made my head swim.

I hated him.

I hated how easily he dominated every conversation. How he made feel small without even trying. How my body betrayed every single ti he got close.

"Fine," I bit out.

"Good boy."

The words sent an unwanted jolt straight through , and I looked away quickly before he could see the flush creeping up my neck.

He straightened, that smirk still firmly in place.

"I’ll be in my office if you need anything," he said, already turning toward the door. "But I suggest you don’t need anything."

And then he was gone.

I sat there for a long mont, staring at the closed door, feeling the weight of the next twelve hours settle over like a death sentence.

I’m going to die here.

I threw myself into the work.

What choice did I have?

I pulled up the files Cassian had sent, and of course there were dozens of them, each one dense with data and jargon that made my head spin. Market trends. Financial projections. Architectural renderings. Competitor analysis.

It was all there.

And it was overwhelming.

I was about an hour in, drowning in spreadsheets, when I heard a knock.

"Co in," I called, not looking up.

The door opened, and Mason’s familiar voice cut through my focus.

"Holy shit. So it’s true."

I glanced up. Mason was standing in the doorway, eyes wide, taking in the new office with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

"You actually got promoted," he said, stepping inside. "I thought people were making it up."

"Yeah, well." I gestured vaguely at the chaos on my screen. "Here I am."

Mason whistled low, looking around. "This is insane, man. You went from our cramped little departnt to this?" He paused, grinning. "What did you do? Blackmail him?"

I snorted. "I wish."

"So what happened? How does soone go from almost getting fired to executive liaison assistant in one day?"

I hesitated.

What was I supposed to say? Oh, you know, I punched him at a club, he dragged into a private room, threatened to ruin my life, and now I’m his personal plaything in exchange for not going to prison. Normal Monday stuff.

"I don’t know," I said instead, shrugging. "Guess he saw potential or sothing."

Mason leaned against the doorfra, studying with a thoughtful expression.

"Or," he said slowly, "he took a liking to you."

I nearly choked on my own spit.

"What?"

"I an, think about it." Mason crossed his arms, warming to his theory. "The guy calls you out in front of everyone, drags you to his office, and then suddenly you’re working directly under him? Maybe he’s got a thing for you."

"That’s..." I shook my head violently. "That’s insane. That’s the most insane thing you’ve ever said."

"Is it though?"

"Yes." I turned back to my computer, face burning. "Trust , Mason. There’s no way that psychopath is capable of emotions. Except maybe sadism."

Mason laughed. "Okay, okay. I’m just saying, stranger things have happened."

"Not this strange."

He pushed off the doorfra, still grinning. "Well, whatever the reason, congrats, man. This is huge. Even if it ans working for a terrifying ex-convict CEO who looks like he could murder you with his pinky finger."

"Thanks," I muttered. "Really feeling the support here."

"Hey, I’m happy for you." His expression softened. "Seriously. You deserve sothing good after... you know. Everything."

Lila.

He didn’t say her na, but I heard it anyway.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "Thanks."

Mason clapped on the shoulder. "Hang in there. And if he gives you too much shit, let know. I’ll... I don’t know, send him a strongly worded email or sothing."

I couldn’t help but smile. "I’ll keep that in mind."

He left, and I was alone again.

With a presentation that was slowly eating alive.

By the ti I finished, or thought I finished, it was almost six.

My eyes burned. My back ached. My brain felt like it had been put through a blender.

But I’d done it.

A full presentation. Seventy slides. Charts. Graphs. Risk assessnts. Everything Cassian had asked for.

I felt a flicker of pride as I saved the file.

Maybe he’ll actually be impressed.

I grabbed my laptop and made my way down the hall to Cassian’s office.

The door was slightly ajar, and I could see him inside.

He was sitting behind his massive desk, one hand holding a pen, the other cradling a glass of amber liquid, whiskey, probably. A thin trail of smoke curled up from the ashtray beside him, where a half-finished cigar smoldered.

He looked... focused. Intent. Actually working.

It was almost unsettling.

The mory of what transpired between us in this sa office ca unwanted...

The sll of him, the taste I couldn’t forget, my own body betraying ....

No. No. No. Focus Noah!

I knocked lightly. "Mr. Wolfe?"

His eyes flicked up, sharp and assessing.

"Bennett."

"I, uh." I held up my laptop. "I finished the presentation. I can co back if you’re busy, "

"Co in."

It wasn’t a suggestion.

I stepped inside, closing the door behind , and approached his desk.

He leaned back in his chair, God, he sat in that thing like it was a throne, and gestured for to continue.

I set my laptop down and pulled up the file, turning the screen toward him.

"So I followed the template you sent," I started, feeling a little surge of confidence. "I included all the key data points, broke down the market analysis by region, highlighted the competitive advantages, and added so visual mockups to make it more engaging, "

"This is trash."