chapter sixteen: The flight

Lily’s POV

Airplanes and I have never been friends.

The way the engines roar, the metal tube shakes, and the whole thing depends on invisible air currents? Yeah, no thank you.

But here I was—thirty thousand feet above ground—gripping the armrest of a private jet like it was a lifeline.

“Relax, Miss Hart,” came Andrew’s calm voice beside me. “We’re perfectly safe.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, my eyes glued to the tiny oval window. “You’re used to all this luxury.”

He smirked faintly, flipping open a hardcover book. “Luxury doesn’t defy gravity, Lily.”

Oh we're on first name basis now.

The jet was silent except for the low hum of the engines. Across from us sat two other shareholders, speaking quietly, and one of Andrew’s board aides typing on a laptop.

Meanwhile, I was silently making peace with God.

Andrew noticed. “You’re terrified.”

I shot him a glare. “Brilliant observation, Mr. Sterling.”

He chuckled softly, unbothered. Then, after a pause, he said, “When I was younger, I hated flying too.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “You? The ice statue of calm?”

He tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. “Even statues have cracks. My father used to make me travel with him, and I’d stay awake the whole flight. Eventually, I learned something that helped.”

“What?”

He raised a book. “I read.”

I frowned. “You read when you’re scared?”

“It gives your mind something to hold on to. A distraction.”

“Well,” I whispered, trying not to sound pathetic, “read to me, then.”

His brows lifted slightly, surprised.

“And why will I do that?“ He asked

“Because I asked you too” I said smiling sheepishly

“Alright.”

My eyes widened

“Really?“ I said happily

“Don't push it” was all he said

He turned to a marked page, voice low and steady. “‘Courage is not the absence of fear, but the decision that something else is more important.’”

I blinked. “That’s not a novel.”

“No,” he said, lips curving faintly. “It’s a collection of speeches by Winston Churchill. You said nothing corny.”

I smiled, only Andrew sterling will read a collection of speeches to someone in a plane scared of flying.

His voice was deep, warm, and hypnotic as he continued. Every word rolled out smooth, steady, confident. The tension in my shoulders slowly melted away.

Somewhere between his third paragraph and the next quote, my eyes grew heavy.

“Keep reading,” I murmured.

“Sleep, Lily,” he whispered.

And I did.

---

When I woke, sunlight was spilling through the windows, golden and sharp. The jet had landed.

Andrew’s jacket was draped over me, his book resting on the armrest beside my hand.

He wasn’t in his seat.

For a moment, I sat there, disoriented, the faint scent of cedar and something darker clinging to the fabric. Then I heard his voice outside the cabin, cool and professional again.

“Make sure all luggage is delivered to the correct rooms. Thank you.”

He looked up as I stepped out, the crisp white shirt he wore slightly rumpled at the collar.

“Sleep well?”

I handed him his jacket. “Better than I expected.”

“Good,” he said simply

---

The resort was breathtaking—white villas perched on cliffs, overlooking the deep blue sea of Santorini. Bougainvillea draped over stone walls, sunlight glinting off glass balconies.

All the shareholders and their assistants were gathered at the courtyard for introductions, champagne in hand.

Andrew moved effortlessly through the crowd, greeting people with his calm, authoritative charm.

I hung back near the fountain, pretending to check my phone—until I saw him.

Ryan.

My ex.

He was standing near the buffet, laughing with a few other executives. And beside him—of course—was a red-haired woman with wide hips and curves they even I was jealous about.

His assistant, perhaps.

They looked… cozy. Too cozy.

My stomach twisted.

Ryan noticed me at that exact moment, his grin fading. For a heartbeat, guilt flickered across his face. Then he started walking toward me.

Oh no. Not today.

I turned on my heel and walked straight toward the opposite side of the courtyard.

“Lily, wait—”

I didn’t.

The last thing I wanted was to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. Not here, not when my boss and a dozen shareholders were watching.

I caught a glimpse of Andrew speaking to Adrian Wolfe—the same man from the Obsidian Club, though now dressed sharply in gray. Adrian’s knowing eyes met mine briefly. He smiled like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

---

By afternoon, the resort management handed out room assignments.

That’s when things went sideways.

“Excuse me,” the receptionist said nervously, glancing between me and Andrew. “There’s been a booking issue. The system double-booked several suites. I’m afraid you all have to share one for tonight.”

I blinked. “Share?”

“With our assitants?” Andrew asked flatly.

The poor woman looked like she wanted to quit her job on the spot. “We’ll fix it by tomorrow morning, sir. I deeply apologize.”

“And the assistants can share together if it's more preferable”

Andrew exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Fine.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already striding away, key card in hand.

Fantastic.

---

The suite was enormous— a living area with a view of the sea, and one enormous bed that screamed luxury and bad decisions.

I dropped my bag on the couch. “I’ll sleep on the bed.”

Andrew didn’t argue. He just loosened his tie and unbuttoned his cuffs. “That’s your choice.”

I rolled my eyes, heading for the minibar.

“Wine?” I asked.

“No.”

“Of course not.”

I poured myself a glass and took a seat near the window. For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, out of nowhere, he asked, “Who is Ryan?”

I stiffened, glass halfway to my lips. “Excuse me?”

He turned slightly, eyes unreadable. “The man you avoided earlier. I saw the way you looked at him.”

I set the glass down carefully. “He’s no one.”

Andrew’s tone sharpened. “He didn’t look like no one.”

“Why do you care?” I shot back before I could stop myself.

His jaw tightened. “Because I don’t want my employees bringing personal drama into business events.”

I laughed bitterly. “Of course. Wouldn’t want emotions messing with your perfect control.”

He didn’t reply, just watched me with that cool, assessing stare that made my chest ache.

Finally, I sighed

“I'm.not telling you anything” was all I said

Andrew’s expression didn’t change—but something in his eyes darkened.

“I see.” He turned away, walking toward the balcony.

I watched him, frustration and curiosity tangling inside me. There was something he wasn’t saying—something raw flickering just beneath his calm surface.

The air between us was thick.

I stood, moving to the other side of the room, needing space.

But he didn’t move. Didn’t even look at me.

Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance—a rare, heavy storm rolling in from the sea.

The lights flickered. The storm outside cracked lightning across the water, plunging the room into half-darkness.

Andrew stepped closer, the shadows slicing across his face.

“Stay inside,” he said softly, almost too calm. “Finish up let's go for dinner.”

And then—before I could say anything—he left the room.

The door closed behind him with a quiet click, leaving me staring at the rain-soaked window, heart hammering.

Because deep down, I had the terrifying feeling he wasn’t warning me about the storm outside—

…but the one coming between us.

******