[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl Chapter 245: The little Secret

NOAH

(A WEEK LATER)

Monday morning in the executive boardroom always felt like stepping into a different version of the world.

I arrived early, as I always do when I need to build a wall around my own nerves. Today, that wall needed to be made of reinforced concrete.

The room was a masterpiece of corporate intimidation.

Two of the walls were tall glass, offering a view of the city that seed designed to remind you exactly how high up you were.

The other walls were dark, matte panels that soaked up the light. In the center of the long, obsidian-colored table sat the physical model of the new dical facility. It was a perfect, tiny world of white plastic and glass, rendered with a precision that made my head ache.

The lighting was dim, controlled, and expensive. It was the kind of atmosphere that didn’t just suggest seriousness... It demanded it.

This was Cassian’s territory. Even with the room empty, his presence was everywhere.

It was in the sharp lines of the chairs and the silent, dark screens waiting to be brought to life.

I stood by the window, watching the tiny cars crawl through the streets below. My heart was doing a nervous tap-dance against my ribs.

You are a professional, I told myself, my reflection in the glass looking paler than usual. You survived that nightmare dinner with the Governor. You survived your father. You can survive a ninety-minute eting. Nick is just a person. A deeply annoying, genetically related person, but still just a person. You’re fine. Everything is fine.

The room began to fill. First ca the senior architects, n and won who wore their genius in the form of expensive spectacles and quiet voices. They moved straight to the model, pointing at structural lines and discussing "cantilevered wings" and "discreet ingress."

Next were the financial strategists. They didn’t look at the beauty of the model; they looked at the footprint and saw dollar signs. They whispered about ROI and tax incentives, their eyes flicking toward the door as if they could sense the apex predator approaching.

Then the dical consultants arrived.

I felt the shift in the air before I even saw him. The door swung open and Nick walked in.

He was wearing a suit.... a perfect, shimring gray that caught the dim light. He occupied the doorway for a fraction of a second too long, just to ensure every eye in the room registered his arrival.

I put on my best professional smile. It felt like a mask made of dry clay. "Good morning," I said as he approached.

"Good morning," Nick replied. His voice was smooth, like expensive scotch.

The senior consultant standing next to him, a man nad Henderson, looked back and forth between us. His eyes widened as the realization hit. "Good lord," Henderson breathed. "You two are—"

"My brother," Nick said, his smile widening into sothing that looked warm but felt like a blade. He draped a hand briefly over my shoulder, a gesture of "affection" that made my skin crawl. "Noah prefers to keep a low profile. He’s the private one of the family."

He said it with the specific tone people use to cover for a sibling who is socially awkward or perhaps a bit slow. It made it sound like the reason nobody knew we were related was because I was too shy, rather than the fact that we hadn’t spoken in months.

"Sothing like that," I managed to say through my teeth. I kept the smile fixed in place. Inside, I was conducting a full-scale ergency evacuation of my sanity.

The room settled as everyone took their seats. Nick leaned in close to , his voice dropping to a confidential whisper that was ant for alone.

"It’s fascinating, isn’t it?" he murmured, his eyes fixed on the architectural model. "The things people keep close. The secrets they tuck away in the dark. But you know how it is, Noah. Eventually, everything surfaces. The truth has a way of floating, no matter how much weight you tie to it."

He gave a little wink. It wasn’t about the dical facility. It was about . It was about whatever he thought he had discovered.

Before I could find a way to respond without screaming, the door opened again.

Cassian walked in.

He didn’t apologize for being exactly on ti. He didn’t need to. The room simply rearranged itself around him.

He moved to the head of the table, his eyes scanning the crowd with a single, sweeping glance that took in every face, every posture, and every hidden tension. He didn’t look at specifically, but I felt the mont his gaze passed over .

"Let’s begin," he said. The eting started before he’d even sat down.

The lead architect took the floor. The dark screens roared to life, displaying high-resolution renders of the facility.

The language they used was cold and elite. They didn’t use words like "healing" or "care." They used words like "discreet," "exclusive," and "elite clientele."

This wasn’t just a research center; it was a fortress for the ultra-wealthy. The renders showed a building of glass and uncompromising steel, a structure that didn’t need to look intimidating because its sheer presence told you that you weren’t invited.

I was genuinely impressed. Seeing the scale of what Cassian was building was staggering. He had considered every detail, from the underground private access routes to the surveillance architecture that was woven into the very fabric of the walls.

But as the architect spoke, I could feel Nick’s eyes on . He wasn’t looking at the screens. He was watching my face, waiting for to slip. I kept my eyes glued to the renders of the VIP suites, pretending the weight of his stare didn’t make want to bolt for the exit.

Cassian’s voice cut through the room like a knife. He asked technical, sharp questions about security integration and access control.

He didn’t think like a developer; he thought like soone who knew exactly what people would try to steal from a place like this. The architects scrambled to answer, their respect for him visible in the way they leaned forward.

When the discussion turned to the financial and dical research protocols, Nick saw his opening. This was his territory.

"The research compliance requirents for a private facility of this tier are... specialized," Nick said, leaning back in his chair with an easy grace. He directed a polite, condescending smile toward Cassian.

"It’s a different world from real estate, Mr. Wolfe. The regulatory fraworks are dense. One wrong move and the governnt pulls the funding before the first floor is finished."

The room went quiet. It was a subtle challenge... a "doctor" telling a "builder" that he was out of his depth.

Cassian didn’t blink. He didn’t even look annoyed. He waited for a beat, letting Nick’s challenge hang in the air until it felt awkward.

"I’m aware," Cassian said coolly. "That’s why we’ve already cleared the Section 4-B research protocols. We’re currently aligning with the ISO 27001 standards for the biotric labs and have already secured the secondary compliance certificates for the underground surgical wings." He cited three different regulatory fraworks by their specific codes, his voice flat and perfectly inford.

The room went quiet in a completely different way. The "oh" was almost audible.

Nick’s smile didn’t falter, but I saw the way his fingers tightened around his pen. He was recalibrating. He’d underestimated the man at the head of the table.

As the eting progressed, I noticed sothing. Cassian never looked at directly, but he was managing the room with a second, invisible layer of control.

Every ti Nick’s attention started to drift back toward , Cassian would ask Nick a direct, technical question that forced him to engage with the table.

When the consultants suggested a break that would have left alone in the hallway with my brother, Cassian redirected the segnt and pushed through to the next agenda item.

It was a silent dance. He was protecting , but he was doing it so subtly that no one else in the room could see the strings being pulled. No one except .

The eting concluded ninety minutes later. The summary was given, the next steps were assigned, and the room dissolved into the usual post-eting choreography of handshakes and business cards.

Nick didn’t waste any ti. He moved through the crowd like a heat-seeking missile, his eyes locked on . He appeared at my side just as I was gathering my notes.

"Excellent work, Noah," he said loudly enough for his coworkers to hear. He extended his hand for a professional handshake.

I took it. I had to. Refusing a handshake in front of the board would have been a neon sign saying sothing was wrong. His hand was dry and firm.

Nick leaned in then. He dropped his voice so low it was just a vibration below the noise of the room.

"I’ve been very curious," he whispered. His eyes were bright with a malicious kind of triumph. "I spent the whole eting wondering how you did it. How a quiet, unremarkable boy like you managed to catch the attention of a man like Cassian Wolfe."

I kept my face as still as stone. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nick."

The smile that arrived on Nick’s face was the cruelest thing I’d ever seen.

"You don’t need to pretend, dear brother," he murmured. "It’s too late for that. I watched the way he looked at you. I watched the way he didn’t look at you. I watched the way you breathed when he spoke."

My breath stopped completely. My lungs felt like they had turned to lead.

"You’ve been fucking him," Nick said. It wasn’t a question. It was a cold, filed fact. "Haven’t you? Your boss. The great Cassian Wolfe."

He let the words sit there, poisonous and heavy.

"That’s how you got the job. That’s how you stay in the room. You’re the little secret in his bed."