All Chapters of A NIGHT WITH MY BILLIONAIRE BOSS : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Lily’s POV....The rain was merciless. It pelted down in cold, hard sheets, blurring the world into a storm of gray and regret. My clothes clung to my skin like guilt, heavy and cold. I didn’t care. Let it wash away everything — the lies, the heartbreak, the truth I’d rather not have known.Andrew.Silver Mask.The man who had been my escape was the same man who had broken my heart. I could still see his face in that dark room, the way his voice had dropped when he realized I’d recognized him — the shock, the guilt, the twisted satisfaction.I felt foolish. I felt exposed.Headlights slashed through the rain. Tires splashed through puddles behind me, slow and deliberate. I ignored them, hugging my arms around myself and walking faster.I ran.The rain drowned out my footsteps, but his were faster, heavier. I heard him curse under his breath, calling my name again. I didn’t want to hear him. I didn’t want to see him.“Lily!”A strong arm caught mine, spinning me around. I slipped, my h

Andrew’s POV The sound of my father’s laughter was enough to set my teeth on edge. That slow, condescending chuckle that filled the entire floor like smoke. He stood by the window of my office, hands in his pockets, admiring the skyline as if he owned every inch of it. Maybe he did. But not for long. “You’ve been distracted lately, Andrew.” His tone was smooth — the kind of voice that could sound charming until you realized it was sharpened with venom. “First, the board notices. Then your little assistant seems to be the only thing you focus on.” I stiffened. “Watch your words, Father.” He turned, smirking. “Oh, come now. Don’t get all noble with me. She’s beautiful, yes — but you’re letting her get under your skin. You’ve been off your game for weeks. Investors are noticing. Sabrina’s father is noticing.” The name was a spark on dry wood. “I couldn’t care less what Sabrina or her father think.” He stepped closer, his cologne heavy and suffocating. “You should. Because that woma

Andrew’s POV …The wheels of the plane hit the tarmac with a violent bounce, jerking me forward in my seat. I exhaled slowly, knuckles cracking as I flexed them. Eight hours awake, a corporate war brewing, Lily’s silence slicing at me, and now… this.Canada.Cold air slapped my face the moment I stepped out of the airport. A harsh, biting chill that cut cleaner than anything I’d felt in days—and it still felt gentler than her ignoring me. I shoved that thought down and focused on the one thing that mattered right now. Lucas.Adrian had given me an address scribbled on a folded sheet of paper. A small town outside Vancouver—quiet, remote, tucked into the side of a lake. The kind of place you go when you need to hide… or when the world has taken everything from you.The taxi ride took an hour. Snow powdered the ground. Pines stretched endlessly to either side of the narrow road. And with every curve the driver took, the pit in my stomach tightened.I didn’t know what I was expecting.A

Lily's pov…..“Go home Lily” Andrew says Instead of leaving, I pull to him and kiss him lightly on the mouth.He pulls me roughly through the door and pushes me up against the hard wall, closing the door behind us with his foot. The room’s almost completely dark, lit only by soft moonlight that spills in through a smallwindow high on the wall. The pounding of the dance music penetrates the door easily, but I hardly hear it. Every one of my senses zeroes in on Andrew.He stands close, his large bulk looming over me, tall and powerful.Taking my wrists, he pulls my hands up over my head, easily pining both to the wall with his left hand. I suppose I could struggle, but I only watch, letting him position me. I want what he wants.“Jesus, you look so fucking hot like this lily”l His confident smirk is barely visible in the darkness, but it melts me inside. Heruns his other hand along the line of my jaw, angling my face up towardshis. “Keep your ass touching the wall.”I press b

Lily’s POV Andrew didn’t speak for a long time.I looked at our entwined hands.He stood in front of his mother’s grave the way a boy stands before a locked door—wanting to go in, terrified of what waits behind it. The breeze tugged at his hair, his suit, but he didn’t move. I waited, silently, not breathing, not wanting to break whatever was unraveling inside him.Then finally—“I should’ve protected her.”His voice cracked.Not the polished, controlled, ruthless tone I was used to.No.His voice broke.I stepped closer, but not too close. I didn’t want to scare him back into silence.He swallowed, staring at the marble. “My father… he destroyed her. Piece by piece. Day by day. He turned our house into a battlefield and her into a casualty.”His hands curled into fists at his sides.“I was twelve when I realized the bruises weren’t accidents. He used to push her, corner her, belittle her. And she’d smile at me afterward and say, ‘I’m clumsy, sweetheart.’”I felt my throat tighten.H