Chapter fourteen: Boundaries

Andrew’s POV

The air outside The Obsidian Club was colder than usual that night.

I stood by the car, mask in hand, every muscle in my jaw tight.

What the hell had I just done?

Watching her—Lily—stand there, trembling under the soft lights, had twisted something inside me. I’d walked away before I could destroy what little restraint I had left.

I’d broken every rule I’d set for myself. I didn’t mix business with pleasure, didn’t cross lines, didn’t let emotions drive me. But then, Lily Hart wasn’t just anyone. She’d become the one thing I couldn’t seem to ignore.

I climbed into the back seat, exhaling sharply.

“Rough night?”

The voice came from the passenger seat—Adrian Wolfe, his tone half amusement, half concern. He’d owned the club long before I became one of its silent investors. And one of the very few people who knew what the Sterling family name truly cost.

“Don’t start,” I muttered, loosening my tie.

Adrian glanced back at me, smirking faintly. “You left early. That’s not like you.”

“I had to.”

“Ah. The assistant?”

My glare was enough to make him laugh softly.

“You’re playing with fire, Andrew,” he said quietly. “You’re trying to be the man your father isn’t, yet you’re one step away from burning everything down the same way he did.”

My grip tightened on the edge of the seat. “I’m not him.”

“Then prove it,” Adrian said, his tone shifting from teasing to serious. “You told me you wanted to find out the truth about your mother’s death. Have you made any progress?”

I looked out the window. The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white. “Not yet. My father’s keeping everything sealed. No files, no hospital records, nothing. It’s like she never existed.”

Adrian leaned back. “Then stop playing nice. You have the money and the brains. Use both. And your siblings?”

“They’re still with him.” My voice came out sharper than I intended. “He won’t let me near them. He says I’ll corrupt them with my mother’s ‘sentimentality.’”

Adrian sighed. “Then get legal custody. Quietly. Before he ruins them too.”

I nodded once. That was the plan—take back what my father destroyed, piece by piece.

But my mind kept drifting back to Lily.

To her wide, uncertain eyes as she tried to figure where she she knew me from.

The way her voice shook when she defied me.

Adrian left my car then I saw her, she stopped a cab and they drove off

I couldn’t stop myself. I followed the cab.

It was reckless, but I needed to make sure she got home safely.

From my car, I watched as she stepped out in front of a small apartment building, fumbling with her keys, laughing softly to herself. She looked so breakable, so unaware of how easily this world could swallow her.

I stayed until the lights in her apartment flicked off.

Only then did I drive away.

The night air bit through my shirt as I parked outside my own penthouse. I stood there for a while, staring at the skyline, forcing myself to let her go—if only in my thoughts.

Because if I didn’t, she’d destroy me the way my father destroyed my mother.

---

Lily’s POV

By the next morning, I was running on two hours of sleep and a dangerously high caffeine level.

When I walked into the office, I froze.

Andrew Sterling was in his glass-walled gym next to his office—shirtless, sweat glistening over the hard lines of his body as he boxed into the air with perfect precision.

For a solid ten seconds, I forgot how to breathe.

Is he making a habit is this now, I noticed the tatoo I didn't see that night cause it was too dark.

“Good morning, Miss Hart,” he said without looking at me, voice smooth, controlled.

“Morning, sir,” I managed, clutching my folder like a lifeline.

He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re late.”

I checked my watch. “It’s eight fifty-five.”

“Which means you had five minutes to spare.” He wiped his face with a towel, then tossed it aside. “Next time, use it.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Yes, sir.”

He walked past me, the faint scent of his cologne clinging to the air. “You’ll accompany me to the charity gala tonight.”

My brain stalled. “I—what?”

“You’ll handle correspondence, note-taking, introductions.” His eyes flicked to mine. “Wear something appropriate.”

“I don’t have anything that fancy,” I admitted and flushed beet red

It's not that I was broke or anything, but I actually didn't have some expensive billion dollar dress to accompany

Andrew sterling to a Gala

“Then we’ll fix that.”

I blinked. “You mean—”

“We’re going shopping,” he said flatly, already heading for the elevator.

---

The car ride was pure torture.

Every time I tried to speak, he gave one-word answers.

By the time we reached Éclat Boutique, I was sure the silence would kill me before embarrassment did.

Inside, everything screamed expensive. Rows of satin gowns, crystal chandeliers, attendants that looked like models.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sterling!” The saleswoman nearly glowed when she saw him. “And Mrs. Sterling, welcome!”

“What? Oh—” I started, but Andrew’s low groan cut me off.

“She’s not—”

The woman clasped her hands together. “Newlyweds, then? How lovely! We’ll bring some options right away. Something elegant… and maybe a few for your honeymoon?”

Before I could protest, she whisked me toward a fitting room and handed me a pile of dresses—and, inexplicably, lingerie.

“Try these. The last one is our exclusive lace set—men go wild for it,” she whispered, winking.

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.

Still, curiosity (and maybe a bit of petty rebellion) won.

I admires the beautiful lingeries, they were soft and very lacy and most of them left nothing to the imagination.

I slipped into the first piece. Soft white lace, delicate straps. It wasn’t revealing—just enough to make me feel like I wasn’t the same woman who cried over Ryan’s betrayal.

I wanted to look at myself in the mirror

When I stepped out, Andrew looked up from his phone—and froze.

His expression flickered between shock, disbelief, and his eyes darkened.

“Lily,” he said, voice low. “What are you doing?”

“i wanted to look at myself in the mirror, I didn't know you would be sitting here,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

He exhaled sharply, looking away. “Stop throwing yourself at me.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

“I’m not!” I snapped. “I didn’t ask for any of this, Mr. Sterling!”

He took a step closer, tone colder now. “Then start acting like it.”

For a second, neither of us spoke. The air between us was electric, heavy with everything we weren’t saying.

Finally, he reached into his wallet, pulled out his black card, and placed it on the counter.

“Buy what you need,” he said curtly. “And next time, Miss Hart, don’t mistake my generosity for interest.”

Then he turned and walked out—leaving me standing there in a lace dress, heart pounding, too humiliated to breathe.

Andrew sterling is a bastard

---

I stared at his retreating back through the boutique window.

For a man who claimed not to care, he sure had a way of making me feel everything at once—furious, flustered, and foolish.

And as I changed back into my clothes, one thought refused to leave my head:

The man in the silver mask and Andrew Sterling shared more than just a voice.

They shared the same physique.

And Andrew also frequented the club.

But why would he take intrest in me.

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