Chapter 25: Bigger Problem

# Chapter 6

I went back to my apartment that night feeling like I’d been put through an emotional blender set to “destroy.”

My throat still ached. My jaw felt weird. And every time I swallowed, I was reminded of exactly what had happened in that office.

I stripped off my clothes, threw them in the hamper like they were cursed artifacts, and stood under the shower for what felt like an hour, scrubbing at my skin until it turned red.

But no amount of soap could wash away the memory.

The weight of him in my mouth. The way he’d looked down at me. The sound of his voice when he said *good boy.*

I turned the water to scalding and pressed my forehead against the tile.

This was fine.

Everything was fine.

I was fine.

Narrator voice: *He was not fine.*

***

The next morning, I dragged myself to work like a man walking to his own execution.

Every step toward the building felt heavier than the last. My stomach churned. My palms were sweating. I kept expecting Cassian to appear out of nowhere like some nightmare in a three-piece suit, ready to drag me into another private room and—

Stop. Stop thinking about it.

I made it to my new desk on the executive floor without incident, sank into my chair, and stared at my computer screen like it held the secrets of the universe.

Mason appeared at my desk approximately three minutes later, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“So,” he said, leaning against the edge of my desk. “How’s it feel being the CEO’s right-hand man?”

“Exhausting,” I muttered.

“Yeah, I bet.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Working directly under him must be *intense.*”

If only you knew.

“It’s fine,” I said flatly. “Just… a lot of work.”

“Well, you’re surviving.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “That’s more than most people could say.”

I forced a smile and turned back to my screen.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of emails, reports, and spreadsheets. I kept my head down, did my work, and tried very hard not to think about the fact that Cassian’s office was literally fifty feet away.

He didn’t call for me.

Didn’t text.

Didn’t even acknowledge my existence.

And somehow, that was worse.

By the end of the week, I was losing my mind.

Cassian had been… quiet.

Too quiet.

He walked past me in the hallway without a second glance. Met with other executives and didn’t so much as look in my direction. Responded to my work emails with clipped, professional replies that contained zero traces of the man who’d pinned me to a couch and threatened to ruin my life.

It was unsettling.

Like the calm before a storm.

I should’ve been relieved. Should’ve been grateful for the reprieve.

Instead, I felt on edge. Like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And then there was the other problem.

The bigger problem.

I was horny.

Like, embarrassingly, frustratingly, constantly horny.

It started Tuesday night. I’d come home, exhausted, and collapsed into bed. My body had other ideas. I woke up around midnight, hard as a rock, dick throbbing against my boxers.

Fine. Whatever. I’d just… take care of it.

I pulled up a porn site on my phone, scrolled through a few videos, clicked on one that looked promising.

Nothing.

My dick stayed stubbornly half-interested, like it was judging my taste in content.

I tried another video. Then another. Then a whole different category.

Still nothing.

What the hell?

I gave up, frustrated, and tried to just… use my imagination.

But the moment I closed my eyes, all I could see was him.

Cassian. Leaning over me. Hand wrapped around my jaw. Eyes dark and hungry.

The way his voice had sounded when he told me to open.

My hand moved almost on its own, stroking myself slowly, and suddenly I was right there on the edge, breath hitching, body arching—

I came so hard I saw stars.

And then immediately wanted to die.

No.

No, no, no.

This wasn’t happening.

I was not getting off to thoughts of my sadistic, blackmailing, psychopath of a boss.

I wasn’t.

Except I did it again the next night.

And the night after that.

By Thursday, I was having a full-blown crisis.

***

Friday afternoon, I found myself sitting across from Mason at a small café near the office, staring blankly at my phone while he enthusiastically created a dating profile for me.

“Okay, okay,” Mason said, typing rapidly. “Hobbies. What are your hobbies?”

“I don’t have hobbies.”

“Everyone has hobbies.”

“I work. I sleep. Sometimes I eat.”

Mason looked up, unimpressed. “You’re the most depressing person I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you.”

“Fine. I’ll just put… ’enjoys quiet nights in, good conversation, and—’” He paused, grinning. “’Long walks on the beach?’”

“I hate the beach.”

“Too late. It’s staying.” He turned his phone toward me. “Look. You’re already looking more dateable.”

I glanced at the screen.

The photo he’d chosen was from two years ago, back when I still looked like I had a will to live. The bio was generic and boring, which felt accurate.

“Great,” I said flatly. “Can’t wait to disappoint strangers.”

“That’s the spirit!” Mason pocketed his phone and leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Oh, by the way. My buddy DJ is throwing a party next weekend. You should come.”

“No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“Come on, man. You need to get out. Have fun. Meet people.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe even hook up with someone.”

The thought made my stomach twist uncomfortably.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” I said quietly.

“It’s been weeks since Lila,” Mason pointed out. “You’re allowed to move on.”

I opened my mouth to respond when something on the TV mounted in the corner of the café caught my attention.

The news anchor’s voice cut through the low hum of conversation.

“—XUM Corporation CEO Cassian Wolfe made headlines today with a generous ten-million-dollar donation to the National Children’s Hospital, marking his third major charitable contribution this quarter—”

My head snapped toward the screen.

There he was.

Cassian. Standing in front of a crowd of reporters, looking every bit the composed, untouchable businessman. He was wearing a charcoal suit that fit him like a glove, and those damn glasses that made him look like he could dismantle your entire existence with a single glance.

The camera cut to footage of him shaking hands with the vice governor. Then attending some gala. Then standing alongside his older brother, Preston, at a corporate event.

Even surrounded by other powerful men, Cassian stood out.

Sharp. Cold. Magnetic.

My stomach flipped.

Fight or flight response,I told myself. That’s all this is.

But I couldn’t look away.

The camera zoomed in on his face as he spoke to a journalist, and I caught the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

God, he really was beautiful.

In a terrifying, soul-crushing kind of way.

“Dude looks like he could murder you and make it look like an accident,” Mason said, following my gaze.

I almost laughed.

Close enough.

“But damn,” Mason continued, leaning back in his chair. “I bet he’s amazing in bed. Like, absolutely ruthless. His girlfriend’s probably walking funny every day.”

I choked on my coffee.

“You okay?” Mason asked, alarmed.

“Fine,” I wheezed, coughing into my napkin. “Just… went down the wrong pipe.”

Girlfriend. Right. If only he knew.

Actually, scratch that. He could never know.

Mason turned back to the TV, still watching with interest. “You know, I heard he’s got ties to some shady stuff. Like, mafia-level shady.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” I muttered.

“And he’s too strict. Scary too. How could he possibly fire three executives in his first week for ’incompetence’ ?” Mason shook his head. “I’d hate to work directly under him.”

Tell me about it.

On the screen, the news segment shifted to footage of Cassian walking through XUM headquarters, flanked by security. A small crowd of reporters trailed behind him, shouting questions.

And then I remembered Lila.

My chest tightened.

Did she know?

Did she know that Cassian… that he…

No. She couldn’t.

Could she?

The thought made my head spin.

What if Lila had been just another victim? What if Cassian had done to her what he was doing to me?

But then I remembered the way she’d talked about him. The way she’d smiled when she told me how amazing he was.

She’d wanted him.

And he didn’t care one bit.

I shook my head, forcing the thought away.

It didn’t matter.

None of it mattered.

“Earth to Noah,” Mason said, waving a hand in front of my face.

I blinked. “What?”

“Lunch break’s over, man. We gotta get back.”

Right.

Work.

I grabbed my things and followed Mason out of the café, casting one last glance at the TV screen.

Cassian’s face filled the frame, cold and unreadable.

And I felt that familiar twist in my stomach.

…

Saturday arrived like an unwelcome guest at a party I didn’t want to attend.

My phone buzzed on my desk.

Mom: Don’t forget. 6 PM. Your father’s birthday is today.

I stared at the message, chest tightening.

Just expectations. Demands. Reminders that I was barely tolerated.

I groaned and dragged myself out of the chair.

The last thing I wanted to do this evening was face my family.

But ignoring my mother’s texts was a surefire way to make my life even more miserable, so I rounded up my work for the day.

I didn’t bother going home to change after work. What was the point? I wasn’t planning to stay long anyway.

On the way to my parents’ house, I realized I’d forgotten to bring a gift.

Great.

I made a detour to a nearby mall, wandering aimlessly through the clothing section like a man lost in the wilderness.

Ties. Belts. Shirts. Why was shopping so hard?

I flagged down a store clerk, a young woman with a bright smile and way too much energy for a Saturday afternoon.

“Can I help you find something?” she asked.

“Yeah, uh… I need a gift. For my dad. His birthday.”

“Oh! How sweet. What does he like?”

I stared at her blankly.

What did my dad like?

Golf? Work? Ignoring my existence?

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Just… something generic?”

She smiled sympathetically and led me to a display of ties and belts.

I picked out a plain navy tie and a leather belt that looked expensive enough to pass as thoughtful.

“And for your mom?” the clerk asked.

Right. Mom.

I ended up buying her a pair of shoes. Simple. Classic. The kind of thing she could wear to church and still judge me in.

I paid, grabbed the bags, and left.

My phone buzzed again as I walked to my car.

Cassian.

My heart stuttered.

I stared at the notification for a long moment, thumb hovering over the screen.

Then I shoved my phone back into my pocket without opening it.

Nope.

Not today.

I had enough stress waiting for me at my parents’ house. I didn’t need whatever fresh hell Cassian was about to unleash on me.

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