chapter twenty four: The kiss

Lily's pov…….

The mirror didn’t lie.

For the first time in weeks, I looked… alive.

The soft curls framed my face like falling ribbons, brushing against my collarbones with every move. The stylist had cut my hair in layers, giving it a bounce I never had the confidence to try before. It made me look lighter—like I’d let go of something I didn’t even realize I was holding.

The black satin dress hugged my body in all the right places, delicate straps tracing over my shoulders. The neckline was modest, but the sheen of the fabric made it look daring under the light. Paired with silver heels and a faint cherry lip tint, I felt like a stranger in my own skin. A prettier, braver stranger.

I was heading to the Obsidian club, I don't why I was doing that but I know I had to, to release some tension.

When I walked into the Obsidian Club, the night was already alive.

Low jazz floated through the dark room, glasses clinked, laughter blurred with the hum of soft conversations. The air smelled faintly of whiskey and expensive perfume.

I had no reason to be here, except maybe curiosity—or loneliness.

Then the hostess appeared beside me.

“Miss Lily?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the music.

“Yes?”

“You’ve been requested in the private lounge.”

My breath caught.

Only one man ever requested me here.

Silver Mask.

My pulse raced as she led me down a dim corridor lined with velvet drapes and golden sconces. The sound from the main floor faded until all I could hear were my own footsteps and the pounding of my heart.

When the door opened, the room was bathed in warm amber light. And there he was—

Leaning against the window, back to me, black suit perfectly cut, mask gleaming faintly under the light. He turned slowly, like he’d been expecting me all along.

His eyes—those piercing, unreadable eyes behind the silver mask—found me instantly.

The silence between us was almost tangible.

He walked toward me, slow and deliberate, his gaze never leaving mine.

“You changed your hair,” he said softly, voice rich, deep, and threaded with something dangerous.

I tried to smile, but my throat tightened.

“I needed something new,” I whispered.

He reached up, his gloved hand brushing a single curl from my face. The touch was gentle, but I felt it everywhere—skin, spine, breath.

“It suits you,” he murmured.

I swallowed hard, fighting the heat creeping up my neck. “You think so?”

He didn’t answer—just looked at me, like the act of seeing me was enough. The silence grew heavier, and when his fingers trailed lightly through the ends of my hair, I forgot how to breathe.

For a long moment, we stood like that. Just watching each other.

The world outside didn’t exist.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost rough.

“Take off your dress.”

My heart thudded painfully in my chest.

But I didn’t move away.

There was no fear. Not with him. Only this… unexplainable pull that made everything else blur. Slowly, I reached for the zipper, letting the satin slip down, pooling around my feet like spilled ink. His gaze followed every motion, sharp but reverent, his jaw tight beneath the mask.

He didn’t touch me. Didn’t move closer. He just… looked.

And somehow, that was more intimate than anything else.

He looked at me and his gaze on my chest made my nipples harden, he stepped closer to me and touched them lightly, I whimpered

“If you don't like what I'm doing, you can say red” he said

I nodded and he flicked my nipple

“Words” he said

“Yes”

He played with them and kneaded them till I turned to mush in his hand, his hand went o my neck and choked me, softly

I gasped and arched into him, he toyed with my nipple some more and touched my cheek tenderly

“Leave the club, I'll see you then next time I'm here” he said

my legs felt like air. He didn’t stop me, didn’t say a word—just watched me walk away like he was memorizing the moment.

That night, I slept with his voice echoing in my head.

It suits you.

And for the first time, I didn’t feel invisible.

---

The next morning, I woke early. The sunlight spilled gently across my room, touching everything golden.

My life was back to routine. Laundry, dishes, a quick shower, and a quiet breakfast before work. The mirror caught my reflection again—soft curls, flushed skin, eyes that still looked a little dazed. I shook my head and laughed at myself.

“Get it together, Lily,” I muttered.

When I got to the office, the compliments started immediately.

“Oh wow, your hair looks gorgeous!”

“Someone’s glowing today.”

I smiled and waved them off, pretending it was nothing, though my stomach twisted with the memory of gloved fingers brushing through my hair.

But nothing—nothing—prepared me for when I walked into Andrew’s office.

He was standing by the window, phone pressed to his ear, voice low and commanding. His suit was charcoal grey, tailored to perfection, every line of him sharp and precise.

When he ended the call and turned, his gaze dropped to me.

The air shifted.

His eyes swept over me once, slow, like he was seeing something new and couldn’t decide if he liked it—or if it scared him.

“You look…” he paused, voice dropping an octave, “…Beautiful.”

I tried to laugh it off. “It’s just a haircut.”

“It’s more than that.”

The words came out quiet, almost thoughtful. “It suits you.”

My breath hitched.

Those exact words again.

“Thank you, Mr. Sterling,” I managed to say, focusing on the folder in my hands. I stepped closer to hand it over, but my heel caught on the carpet. Before I could fall, his arm shot out, strong and steady, catching me against his chest.

The scent of him hit me instantly—clean cologne, faint whiskey, and something dark underneath it all. His grip was firm, unyielding, his heartbeat thunderous against my palms.

I tilted my head up, and our eyes met.

For a split second, everything stilled.

There was something in his gaze—something raw, fractured, almost hungry. My lips parted before I could stop myself. His eyes flickered down to them.

“Careful,” he said softly, but his voice didn’t sound like a warning. It sounded like a confession.

I swallowed, nodding. “I—I’m fine.”

He didn’t let go immediately. His thumb brushed the inside of my wrist, barely a touch—but it was enough to make every nerve in my body hum.

I looked at him and before I could blink he crashed his lips on mine, it tasted exactly as it did the first night we met, I clutched his shirt and deepened the kiss, the taste of whiskey still faint on his lips.

He groaned and bit my lip lightly.

When he finally released me, the air between us was still thick. I turned quickly, pretending to adjust the papers just to hide my face.

“Leave the reports on the desk,” he said after a moment, voice strained, like he was trying to sound composed.

“Yes, sir.”

As I left, I felt his gaze follow me—burning, restrained, wanting.

I closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment, heart pounding in my chest.

And though I tried to convince myself it was nothing, deep down I knew—

something had changed between us.

Something neither of us could undo.

***