Chapter Eighteen: Throw a punch

Andrew’s POV

The moment I saw her crying, something inside me snapped.

Lily sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling, mascara smudged, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. I’d seen her angry, flustered, even teasing—but not like this. Not broken.

Ryan. The same man who cheated on her. The one who dared to show up here, at this resort, as if fate was mocking us both.

I didn’t say another word. I just turned and walked out.

---

The morning sun burned against my skin as I crossed the courtyard, my steps steady, focused. I spotted him near the poolside, laughing with his assistant—the red-haired woman who’d been glued to his side all morning.

“Ryan,” I said sharply.

He turned, his grin fading when he saw me. “Well, if it isn’t the boss himself. To what do I owe the—”

My fist acted before my brain, I punched him hard across the face

“Stay away from her.”

My voice cut through the air like glass. People turned to look, but I didn’t care.

He spat out blood

“Why the fuck would you do this man?“ He yelled

“I won't warn you again” was all I said

. “. I made a mistake, yeah—but she’ll come around. She always does.”

The arrogance in his tone made my jaw tighten.

I stepped closer. “You don’t get to talk about her like that. Not anymore.”

“Oh, I get it now,” he said, leaning back lazily. “You’re screwing your assistant. Figures. Guess that’s how she landed the job.”

That did it. I closed the distance between us in two strides, my hand gripping his collar.

He froze, realizing too late that I wasn’t bluffing.

“Careful,” I said, my voice low, lethal calm. “You’re walking on thin ice.”

He shoved me back slightly, trying to regain control. “You think you can intimidate me just because you’ve got money? She’ll see you for what you are soon enough.”

For a second, I saw red.

Then I took a deep breath and released him. My control returned, sharp and cold.

“Walk away from her,” I said, my tone even again. “If I ever see you near Lily Hart again, I won’t warn you twice.”

He scoffed, but his assistant grabbed his arm, whispering something that made him pale slightly. I didn’t stay to watch him squirm. I turned and walked back toward the hotel, the fury simmering beneath my skin.

---

When I entered our room, Lily stood near the window, wiping her face with a tissue. She turned when she heard me.

“Why will you do that Andrew, in front of other CEO's,” she said softly.

“And I will do it all over again ” I replied. “Not when someone hurts you.”

She blinked, speechless for a moment. The air between us was heavy, charged with something neither of us wanted to name.

Then she sighed and said, “Take me out for ice cream.”

I frowned. “What?”

“Ice cream,” she repeated, almost smiling. “I need something sweet after… all this.”

I exhaled, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”

“Please?” she added, eyes wide, pleading.

“No”

Her eyes dropped and she turned away but I grabbed her hand and pulled her back

“Thirty minutes”

She beamed and nodded

And that was it. I was done arguing.

---

We drove into the city. The streets were alive with laughter, lights, and the scent of sugar from street vendors. I pulled up outside a small creamery with gold signage and marble floors—expensive, quiet, private.

Lily’s eyes lit up the moment we stepped inside. “Oh, wow. This is beautiful.”

“I don’t do cheap,” I muttered, holding the door open for her.

She grinned and walked in. “You really don’t.”

We ordered. She chose vanilla and chocolate, both with extra sprinkles. I picked nothing. When she noticed, she frowned.

“You’re not getting any?”

“I don’t eat ice cream,” I said, leaning back in my chair.

She raised a brow. “You don’t eat ice cream? Are you even human?”

I hesitated for a second before answering. “My mother used to buy it for me. Every Friday. Mint flavor. It was… our thing.”

Her expression softened. “And what about now?—”

“Don’t,” I interrupted quietly. “I don't talk about her”

She nodded, understanding without pressing. That was something I admired about her. She knew when to stop talking, and when silence said enough.

---

After a while, she smiled again, spoon in her mouth. “You should really try this. It’s good.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You’re impossible,” she teased.

“I’ve been called worse.”

Her laughter echoed softly between us, and for a moment, it did something strange to my chest. Warmth. Familiarity. The kind of thing I didn’t allow myself to feel anymore.

Then she spoke again, quieter this time. “My dad used to drink. A lot. He’d disappear for days, sometimes weeks. I guess that’s why I stopped trusting people who promise to stay.”

I looked at her, really looked at her. Beneath her smiles and quick wit was someone who’d been let down too many times. Someone who was still learning to breathe through the cracks.

Without thinking, I said, “Then you’re stronger than most.”

Her eyes met mine, curious. “And you?”

“I stopped being strong a long time ago,” I said honestly.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was grounding. Like we’d both silently acknowledged something raw and real.

---

When we finally drove back to the resort, she was humming under her breath, tapping her fingers on the dashboard. I glanced at her once—just once—and caught her smiling faintly out the window.

For a man who claimed he didn’t do emotions, I was in deep trouble.

We reached the hotel, and she turned to me before getting out.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“For what?”

“For coming with me. You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” I replied.

She smiled again, small but genuine. “See you tomorrow, boss.”

She got out, her dress swaying lightly with each step, her laughter floating back to me.

I sat there for a moment, watching her disappear into the lobby, and for the first time in years, I didn’t feel the familiar emptiness that usually followed.

Just quiet.

And the unsettling warmth of knowing that Lily Hart—messy, stubborn, emotional Lily—was starting to mean more to me than I was ready to admit.

---