Chapter 27
Pipe r
I wake up slowly, blinking against the soft light spilling through the curtains. There’s a strange, delicious ache low in my belly—like I had a really good dream. My limbs feel heavy, warm. Sated.
Stretching, I let my hand brush against the bedside table where I usually keep my phone. Instead of touching the sleek device, paper grazes my skin. I sit up and reach for the folded paper, suddenly wide awake.
The note is written in tight, confident handwriting.
You thought it was a dream, didn’t you? It wasn’t. Next time, you’ll wake up with my cock buried inside you—and you’ll thank me. —E
My skin prickles, a hot wave of… something crashes into me as I read the note. I read it again, as though the words will change if I stare long enough.
My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh, my God!” I scream, as the penny finally fucking drops.
He was here. While I was sleeping.
The ache in my body sharpens, memory flickering into sensation. Holy shit. It wasn’t just a very vivid sex dream. Enzo was here. As in, he let himself into what’s supposed to be my home— again. But this time it was while I was sleeping. And he… he… fuck.
I curl up the note and turn to throw it onto the floor.
Why would he come here while I was sleeping? That’s not okay. I’m not okay with it. I barely finish the thought before my core clenches, slick heat pooling between my thighs and my nipples harden into little peaks.
Oh fuck. I’m actually turned on. Disgust curls in my throat—but lower, deeper, everything inside me clenches like my body’s already decided it’s fine with what happened. My mind, though? It’s still putting up a fight.
I run my hands down my body, feeling something crusty on my stomach and thighs. The hell? Did he come on me?
Leaping out of bed, I run to the bathroom and turn on the shower. I’m trembling as I step under the scalding water, harshly washing myself. I can’t explain it, but I feel unclean.
It takes over half an hour before I’ve calmed down enough to realize two things. One, a shower isn’t going to change a damn thing. Two, Enzo breaking into the apartment and doing… doing this to me after I made the kinks list is one hell of a coincidence.
And if there’s one thing being his intern has taught me not to believe in, it’s coincidences.
My fingers tremble as I shrug on my robe and brush my teeth. I can’t let go of the thought of being watched, of being scrutinized. It’s fucking unnerving and I want nothing more than to curl up and have a pity party for one.
That’s not on the agenda for today, though. I refuse.
After brushing my teeth, I feel more myself as I stride back into the bedroom and find my phone so I can text Lena.
Me: SOS!!!
Me: Are you back yet?
I look at the clock in the top corner. Hmm, it’s later than I thought. Normally, I wake up at the ass-crack of dawn without an alarm, but today I’ve somehow managed to sleep until 8:30 a.m.
Lee: No, bitch, I’m not back yet. I’m half an hour away. But what kind of SOS are we talking? Brunch? Chocol ate? Alcohol? All the above???
I can’t help laughing.
Me: Definitely brunch.
After hitting send, I consider her other options, each one equally alluring.
Me: With mimosas and chocolate waffles.
Lee: Got it. Sunny Side Up as usual?
Me: Yeah. In an hour and a half okay?
Lee: It’s a date!!
I toss my phone onto the bed and head for the closet, yanking the doors open like I’m preparing for battle. No, scratch that—war. Because that’s what today feels like. A war between who I was yesterday and who I’m going to be now.
My eyes skim over rows of carefully curated outfits, but all of them feel too boring and safe for my current mood.
I crouch down and dig through the storage bins until my hand finds what I didn’t even know I was searching for. A pair of knee-high black leather boots with thin as fuck heels. I haven’t worn them since that Halloween party sophomore year, but when I zip them up, they still fit perfectly.
They’re bold, confident, and a little dangerous. Okay. Maybe this can work.
I feel ridiculous standing here in just the boots and my robe, so I quickly find some underwear and put it on.
Reaching for one of my black skirts that I never wear because it’s too short, I step into it.
Yep, the length is just right. I pair the outfit with a short-sleeved, fitted, charcoal gray shirt that hugs my waist. The hem hits just above the skirt’s waistband, a soft rebellion against all my usual business chic attire.
Spinning, I pause in front of the full body mirror, hands braced on my hips. I feel like Enzo would hate this look, and that’s enough reason to choose it. The devil on my shoulder whispers that he might love it, enough to press me against the mirror and fuck me until the glass cracked.
Well, fuck that. This isn’t about him.
“Am I really doing this?” I whisper to my reflection. My mirror self s tares back like it’s daring me to chicken out.
Instead of arguing with myself, I head back to the bathroom and brush my hair out. Leaving it down would be too easy. Too soft. I twist it up into a high ponytail, then wrap a strand around the elastic to hide it. It gives me more edge.
Makeup next. Not too much, not too little. I’m aiming for the Goldilocks combo, where it’s just enough to make me feel like I have control.
Black eyeliner, a little smoky shadow at the corners. Mascara, two coats. I slick on a matte plum lipstick—the kind that says I know exactly what I’m doing, even if I don’t. Just for the record, I totally don’t. I’m running on emotions rather than sense right now.
“Fuck!” I scream, letting out the frustration and anger festering beneath my skin.
I feel so… violated right now. And apart from gulping mimosas like it’s air, I have no idea how to deal with it.
Once my throat feels raw, and I’m on the verge of crying, I gather my phone, clutch, and grab a blazer I never normally wear. Feeling back in control, I leave the apartment and make my way to Sunny Side Up!
The place isn’t far away, so it doesn’t take me long to walk there. When I arrive, there’s already a throng of people waiting in line. I’m just about to call out for my bestie when she spins around.
“Pipes!” Lena squeals the second she sees me. Maybe it was the proverbial storm cloud above my head that alerted her to my presence. “Let’s get our mimosas on.”
She loops her arm through mine, dragging me past the line and straight inside. Sometimes there are perks to Lena being active on dating apps.
As soon as the door opens, I’m hit with the smell of buttery waffles, roasted coffee beans, and a hint of vodka. It’s warm and loud, crowded with Georgetown’s usual weekend brunch-goers.
The host barely finishes asking if we need a table for two before Lena shoots him a finger-gun and says, “Yes, please.”
We slide into our usual booth in the back corner, half-hidden behind a ficus plant that’s probably older than we are. Lena’s already waving over the server, not even bothering to glance at the menu.
“Two mimosa pitchers,” she chirps. “One classic, one mango.” Then she adds, “And chocolate waffles. Double portion.”
“Brunch of champions,” I mutter.
Lena narrows her eyes at me. “You’re being weird.”
I blink. “I’m not.”
“You are.” She leans in, elbows on the table. “You texted me SOS like your uterus was on fire, then showed up looking like a villainess from a spy movie. I mean, those boots?” She gestures under the table. “Iconic. But also, deeply alarming.”
I e xhale a shaky laugh, fiddling with the edge of my napkin. “Okay, fine. I’m… spiraling a little.”
“That’s what mimosas are for. Spill.”
The server returns with two tall pitchers and two champagne flutes. Lena waits until he’s gone, then digs around in her bag and pulls out a small silver flask. She glances around before pouring a generous glug of vodka into each mimosa glass.
“Subtle,” I comment as I top up our glasses.
“I’m a fucking ninja,” she deadpans, handing me my drink. “Now. Talk.”
I take a sip. The extra vodka hits hard, and I welcome it. “Remember Enzo?”
She arches an eyebrow. “How could I forget when you only told me about him a couple of days ago?”
I suck in a breath and try to gather my thoughts, but they’re a fucking avalanche—loud, fast, and crashing in every direction. Throwing caution to the wind, I dive straight into the heart of the story.
“I had a sex dream last night, and when I woke up this morning, there was a fucking note from him,” I hiss, outrage swirling in my gut. “I think he broke in and… and touched me while I was sleeping.”
Her eyes widen. “Wait. What? He was there?”
I nod, my throat dry.
“Like… in your apartment? While you were asleep?”
I nod again. “Not like it’s the first time he’s broken in,” I hiss, my anger flaring like a fucking bonfire.
“Umm… what?”
Well, fuck. I’d completely forgotten I haven’t told her who Enzo is. For all she knows, he’s just my boss. Then again, since I’ve barely admitted it to myself, I don’t know when I would have told her.
Taking a deep breath, I mentally ready myself for the shit storm I’m about to unleash on my unsuspecting bestie. “Do you remember the puzzle pieces I received?” I ask, nervously biting the inside of my cheek.
“Yeah, of course, Pipes. Have you received more?” She stops talking and looks off to the side, and when her brows furrow, I know she’s slowly piecing it together. “Why do you ask me that now?”
Before I can talk myself out of it, I tell Lena everything.
From how I got the internship, to the times I’ve spent kneeling at Enzo’s feet like he’s some enigmatic god that demands my worship.
I don’t hold any details back, and I don’t let her interrupt me when I tell her that he broke into my apartment and spanked me.
As I get to the part about the Halloween party, she holds her hand up. “Give me a damn second here. A girl needs time to digest,” she demands.
I dutifully stop talking, nervously picking at my nails as I wait for her to say more. I don’t know how much time passes until she speaks again, but it feels like forever.
“Are you okay? I mean, that’s… holy shit, Pipes, that’s…”
“I know.” I grab my mimosa and drink the rest of it in one go. “It sounds awful. Like, criminal-awful.”
The conversation comes to a crashing halt as the food arrives, and we both dig in like we haven’t eaten in days. The waffles are perfect—crispy edges, melty chocolate, whipped cream.
After a few bites, Lena reaches for her phone that lies next to her napkin on the table.
“Should we call the cops? I mean, the man is fucking forcing you by holding your internship over your head.” She lets out a sound of disgust that tells me exactly what she thinks about that.
“Not to mention he’s been stalking you, and breaking into your home. They have to take you seriously now.”
Before I know what I’m doing, I yank the phone from her hand and shake my head. “No,” I almost hiss. My eyes widen like saucers at what I just did.
She cants her head, confusion clear in her eyes. “Why wouldn’t you want to, Pipes? If some creep broke into your apartment and sexually assaulted you, and is taking advantage of you at work, that’s pretty much the thing to do.”
I’m embarrassed to meet her gaze as I softly admit. “Because… I might have wanted it.”
“Wanted it? You fucking wanted him to stalk you and deliver shit to your door?”
I quickly shake my head. “No, obviously not that part.”
No longer hungry, I push the rest of my food around on the plate and gulp down more mimosa. With more alcohol running through my veins, I have enough courage to admit the next part.
“I think I wanted the sex stuff,” I confess. “When I sucked him off at the interview, I… loved it. I’ve been really into all of it.”
Trying to explain while untangling how I feel is fucking hard. I know how it sounds, and I don’t agree with his methods. But his results… those I can’t argue with. Every time I’ve felt his touch, or done things he asked, it’s felt fucking awesome.
He’s made me feel strong and desired. So even though his methods are questionable at best, I’m not sure I’ll ever hate the outcome. I even dressed for him at the Halloween party. I wanted him to play with my body.
The more I sit here and think about it, the more I realize I wanted it. All of it. Enzo hasn’t forced me, he’s merely coaxed me and provided the incentives I needed to get over myself. Whether that was his intention or not, I don’t know.
But something tells me I would have landed the internship even if I didn’t drop to my knees. Even if I didn’t let him finger-fuck me until I forgot my name.
“And what about what he did last night?” Lena challenges, her tone stern as she interrupts my thoughts. “Don’t let him get away with shit you aren’t okay with.”
“I don’t know how I feel about it,” I admit, licking my dry lips. “I wanted to try it, that’s why I put it on my stupid list in my Notes app.”
“Right. Did you tell him that?”
I shake my head vehemently. “No. But he must have seen it somehow.”
Lena stares at me, eyes round as saucers. “Okay, let me get this straight.” Her tone is all business now. “Let’s focus on last night, okay?”
“Okay.”
“So, you made a list of kinks you want to try. Then the same night, Enzo breaks in and does one of the things from said list?”
“Yep,” I confirm.
“How in the hell would he know about your list, Pipes? Did he bug your phone or something?”
There it is, the million dollar question. Well, one of them.
“I don’t know,” I softly admit.
I no longer feel as pissed as I did when I woke up.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m still not happy about it, but I am intrigued.
It’s hard to explain. If I knew he might do something like that, I think I’d enjoy it.
The part that’s pissing me off is that it feels like I didn’t have a choice.
Like my participation and consent didn’t matter.
Sighing, I do my best to convey my thoughts, which isn’t easy when I’m not even sure I understand myself. Luckily, Lena is one hell of a bestie. She doesn’t judge, doesn’t tell me I’m insane for not going to the cops.
“Listen.” She reaches across the table, taking my hand. “I want you to be careful. If you want to test kinks with this guy, go for it. If you just want missionary with the light off, you do you. But if you want an active role, it sounds like you’re going to have to make a statement.”
I gesture at myself. “That’s why I’m wearing the boots,” I grin, feeling a whole lot better about everything thanks to her and the mimosas.