chapter fifteen: The invitation

Lily’s POV

I swore I would never step into Éclat Boutique again.

But the memory of Andrew’s words—Stop throwing yourself at me—kept replaying in my head, louder than the rustle of satin and the click of hangers.

, I went back in —alone.No smug billionaire, no hovering attendants. Just me, my savings card, and a tiny sliver of pride.

I ignored the mannequins dripping in diamonds and went straight for a simple, floor-length gown in navy blue. It wasn’t flashy, but it hugged my figure just right, with thin straps and a modest neckline that still felt elegant. I paired it with silver heels and small crystal earrings.

When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself.

For the first time in a while, I didn’t look broken. I looked… enough.

By evening, the driver Andrew sent was waiting outside my apartment. A black Mercedes with tinted windows, and a man in a crisp suit holding the door open.

“Miss Hart,” he greeted politely. “Mr. Sterling asked me to pick you up.”

Of course, he did.

Inside, the car smelled faintly of cedar and leather—exactly like him. I smoothed my dress nervously as the city lights blurred past.

---

The gala was held at the Grand Montalvo Hotel, a place I’d only seen in magazines.

The marble floor gleamed like glass, chandeliers floated like galaxies above the crowd, and everyone sparkled in gowns worth more than my rent for the year.

And then I saw him.

Andrew Sterling, standing by the champagne bar in a tailored black tuxedo, talking to an investor. The moment his gaze found me, the air shifted.

He took a step forward, his expression unreadable. “You look nice_ Miss Hart.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said stiffly, keeping my eyes on the crowd.

He arched an eyebrow, clearly noticing my frost. “Still upset?”

“Still your assistant,” I replied, smiling politely.

That earned me the faintest smirk, one that could melt weaker hearts.

But not mine. Not tonight.

---

Dinner was painfully slow.

I sat beside him, pretending to be fascinated by a conversation about profit margins and logistics while my soul quietly died.

Every so often, Andrew would lean close to correct me on something or whisper a detail about one of the shareholders. Each time his breath brushed my ear, my body tensed in defiance of logic.

“Smile,” he murmured once, low enough that only I could hear. “They’re watching.”

I plastered on a fake smile that hurt my cheeks.

God, this night couldn’t end fast enough.

It would end with either me stabbing my fork into Andrew's eyes or choking him to death.

---

Halfway through dessert, the host stood up with a champagne glass.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced. “Before we wrap up tonight, a quick update from the Sterling Corporation Board.”

Every head turned.

I noticed Andrew stiffen slightly beside me, his fingers tightening around his glass.

Mr Clark grinned. “As part of our upcoming expansion, all shareholders are required to attend the annual strategy summit in Santorini, Greece next week.”

Excited murmurs rippled through the room.

“And,” Clark continued, “each shareholder must bring their personal assistant. The company will cover accommodations.”

The murmurs grew louder.

I froze.

Bring their assistants?

I glanced at Andrew, but he was unreadable, gaze fixed on the tablecloth.

No. No, no, no. I couldn’t survive a whole week trapped on some island with this man.

---

After the speeches, the music started—soft jazz echoing through the ballroom. Couples drifted toward the dance floor, champagne flutes clinking.

I stayed glued to my chair, pretending to scroll through my phone, while Andrew excused himself to talk to another executive.

When he finally returned, he placed his palm lightly on the back of my chair. “Ready to leave?”

“Desperately,” I muttered.

He didn’t comment, just nodded for the driver to bring the car around.

---

The night air outside was crisp, filled with the faint scent of roses from the hotel garden.

Andrew’s car—a sleek black Aston Martin—was waiting, headlights glowing against the cobblestone driveway.

“Nice car,” I said, unable to help myself.

He gave a faint smile. “It gets me where I need to go.”

Inside, the soft hum of the engine was the only sound between us. The tension was thick enough to choke on.

Finally, I broke the silence. “You knew about the trip, didn’t you?”

“I suspected it,” he admitted, eyes on the road.

“And you didn’t think to warn me?”

He exhaled slowly. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“It would’ve given me time to prepare.”

“You’ll have tonight,” he said simply. “Pack light. We leave at noon.”

I blinked at him. “You’re unbelievable.”

He glanced at me, amused. “That’s one word for it.”

---

When the car pulled up in front of my apartment, I reached for the door handle—but his voice stopped me.

“Lily.”

I hesitated, turning slightly.

His eyes were softer now, the usual cold steel replaced with something gentler. “You did well tonight.”

That simple praise hit harder than it should have. “Thank you, sir.”

He nodded once, then looked away. “Get some rest.”

I stepped out of the car, the night air wrapping around me like a secret I didn’t want to keep.

---

Sophia was waiting in my living room, arms crossed and eyes alight with curiosity.

She was my best friend, my chaos partner, and the only reason my apartment ever looked decent.

“You look like someone who just danced with sin,” she teased, eyeing my gown.

“I didn’t even dance,” I said, kicking off my heels. “There’s a business trip. Greece. I have to go.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. “With Mr. Brooding Billionaire?”

“Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’ve already started.” She grabbed my suitcase. “You’re packing silk pajamas, sunscreen, and emotional armor. And if you don’t send me daily updates, I’m staging a rescue.”

I laughed, exhausted. “It’s not a vacation, Soph. It’s work.”

“Sure,” she said, tossing in an extra pair of heels. “And I only eat salad because I love lettuce.”

---

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the blue gown hanging on the door. The night replayed in flashes—the weight of Andrew’s gaze, his quiet praise, the heat that still lingered from his proximity.

No man had ever confused me this much.

He made me furious, but also… alive.

“Stop it,” I muttered to myself. “He’s your boss.”

Still, as I closed my eyes, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to see him outside the city lights, under the Santorini sun.

Dangerous thoughts for a dangerous man.

---

Andrew’s POV

By the time I returned to my penthouse, the city had gone quiet.

I loosened my tie, poured a glass of whiskey, and sank into the leather armchair by the window.

The gala had gone as expected. Investors pleased, plans announced, the next storm already brewing.

But Lily—

She’d walked in wearing that midnight-blue dress, her hair pinned softly at the back, her lips trembling every time she smiled for the cameras. And it had taken every ounce of discipline I had not to reach for her.

I told myself she was just an assistant.

Just another employee.

But the truth was simpler—and far more dangerous.

She reminded me of my mother. Strong. Defiant. Too kind for this world.

And that made her a liability.

I downed the rest of the drink, setting the glass down with a quiet clink.

Tomorrow, we’d fly out to Santorini.

Business, strategy, power plays—things I understood.

But her?

She was the one equation I couldn’t solve.

---

Lily’s POV

By midnight, my suitcase was packed and my heart was still a mess.

Sophia had finally gone home, leaving behind chaos and an alarming amount of advice I wasn’t sure how to use.

I crawled into bed, staring at the ceiling.

Santorini. Andrew Sterling. One week.

No escape.

I pulled the blanket up and whispered into the dark, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

But even as I said it, I knew the answer.