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
