Page 22 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire
“We go to the after-party,” he said, eyes locked on the stage curtain.
Six
A celebratory hum filled the foyer, underscored by show tunes and the scent of champagne and fresh florals. The wrap party was bittersweet—part wake, part rebirth.
After nearly two years, the final curtain had fallen onBeauty and the Beast. The cast and upper echelon of the crew mingled in sequins and tuxedos beside the theatre’s directors and wealthy patrons.
Behind the scenes, the lesser cast and the crew toasted each other with bittersweet laughter and hopeful eyes as they eyed the wealthy patrons, hoping those in attendance could be wooed into funding more performances—and the theatre—as they struggled to keep their dreams alive for another year.
Rose balanced the tray of hors d’oeuvres in one hand, moving with practiced ease between the clusters of people, silently nodding greetings and offering smiles. She wore simple black slacks and a crisp button-down white shirt— standard server fare—but inside, her heart beat anything but standard.
A knot formed in her chest as she passed a massive golden candelabra—one of her grandfather’s creations—rising like a monument near the edge of the room. She was here to serve, not celebrate. Still, this stage had always been her home. And even in the background, she felt its heartbeat.
In three months, a new production would take the stage—if the patrons opened their wallets. Rose had already seen the rehearsal schedule and production notes for the upcoming production—Hamilton.
It was electric. Fast. Unapologetically fierce. A new beginning. She needed that right now.
Rose inhaled deeply through her nose, then exhaled slowly as she scanned the room.
He might be here.
No, he will be here,she thought with a sigh.
She’d overheard Mimi crowing about Theo’s arrival—and pretended not to hear, just as she’d pretended her hands hadn’t shaken for ten minutes after the stairwell encounter.
Pull it together, Rose. It was one kiss. His declaration on the stairwell meant nothing. He was just giving you a line. You are nothing but a game to him. You tweaked his nose. Men like him don’t like to lose.
Her heart twisted, because part of her wanted to believe him. But logic—that pesky survival instinct—warned her not to.
Rich men don’t chase backstage nobodies. Especially ones who run out on them. Twice.
She readjusted the tray, focusing on balance, angles, and crab cakes.
Halfway through the room, she felt the shift.
Like the air had suddenly been disturbed by a cosmic force.
She didn’t have to look. She felt him.
Theo Kallistratos had arrived.
Against her better judgment, her eyes lifted—and locked with his.
He stood at the entrance, breathtaking in black. Crisp open-collared shirt. Tailored blazer. The faintest curve to his lips, as if he already knew her pulse had doubled.
Damn him.
She dropped her gaze instantly, pivoting toward the opposite corner of the room. If she could just keep moving, maybe?—
“Oh, Theo!” Mimi gushed, throwing her arms open like a Broadway curtain.
Rose bit back a snort as she watched Mimi attach herself to Theo with all the grace of a star-struck octopus.
He smiled politely, nodding at whatever she was saying, but Rose saw it—the subtle tilt of his head, the restless flick of his gaze. He was scanning the crowd—for her.
A smug sense of exhilaration ran through her. She wasn’t going to make it easy.
Dodging him became her private mission. Each time their eyes met, she vanished.
