Page 31 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire
Theo exhaled. “Time. I want Rose, and I can’t be with her if she is busy elsewhere.”
Nikos cursed softly in Greek and shook his head.
“Why do I get the sinking feeling I’m not going to like what you mean by that?”
He shrugged. When he saw a problem, he solved it. In this case, he wanted Rose. The problem was she was busy—and so was he. His need to travel around the world would cause issues. The simplest solution was to free Rose from her schedule—and offer her the world in return.
“I’m due in London, then Paris, Athens, and Rome. I need her free to come with me.”
“And you don’t see a problem with the fact that she might not want to go? What if she finds out you were behind her suddenly free schedule?”
Theo shrugged. “She won’t find out. And if she does—she’ll see it was for us.”
“Jesus, Theo. Try thinking with the head above your shoulders,” Nikos scowled.
Theo’s jaw flexed. “I know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t think this is a little arrogant? Even for you? You think she’ll be flattered? That you’ve traded money for time with her? What if she sees it as control? Manipulation?”
He didn’t flinch—outwardly. “It’s not manipulation. It’s speeding up the inevitable.”
“You’re making a lot of assumptions. I believe the term I’ve heard before is ‘Putting the cart before the horse’. It might be better if you—I don’t know—maybe ask her what she wants,” Nikos muttered. He stopped, released a low chuckle, and blewout a breath. “Hell. What am I talking about? I wouldn’t know what to do if I had a woman playing hard to get. It seems like too much work. Give me a nice, amiable woman who only wants one thing—as long as it isn’t marriage—and I’m happy. Who knows, maybe everything will work out fine. It did for Alexandros. All I’ve got to say is good luck.”
“I need to ask a favor,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief as he changed the topic.
"Of course, provided it doesn't include abducting that beautiful young woman you're so enamored with.”
“I’d like you to review the leads I have so far on Lorenzo’s granddaughter. There isn’t much. I feel like I’m missing something,” he confessed.
“You could’ve handed this off to one of our teams,” Nikos pointed out.
“I would, but I promised Lorenzo I would keep this quiet. I don’t think he told Sophia, Lucinda, or Raff about the photo.”
Nikos nodded. “I can understand that. It would be terrible to say Livia had a child, only to discover there wasn’t one.”
“My thoughts exactly. I’ve added all my notes, including the interview with the old woman who lived next door to them into the file,” he said.
“Did she have any kids? If so, maybe one of them remembers more. I’ll do some more research and get back to you. Do you know what you’re going to do when you finally find her—if she exists that is?”
Theo shrugged and lifted an eyebrow. “What woman wouldn’t be thrilled to find out she’s the heir to a noble, obscenely wealthy Italian dynasty?”
Nikos threw back his head and laughed. “True. True.”
Eight
Morning cloaked the theatre in tranquility, curling around Rose like an old friend.
She paused by the controls in the auditorium, turning on the rows of lighting from above so she could see. Even the harsh lights couldn’t dull the nostalgia. Nothing could.
Dust motes danced like tiny stars caught in the stream of light over the stage.
The world outside was just beginning to wake, but within these aging walls of magic and memory, Rose enjoyed the peace and quiet.
She moved along the rows like a ghost, tending each section with a loving hand. She hummed as she swept the rows, slowly working her way to the stage. This time of day had always belonged to her and her grandfather.
Long before the city woke, before the lights rose and the music swelled, these quiet hours were part of their sacred ritual. They’d hum fragments of the previous night’s melodies, point out the scene that had gone sideways and the line that had unexpectedlysoared. They’d sweep the stage together, trading stories and inside jokes, measuring time not in minutes but in moments.
Now, her grandfather’s voice was only a memory.
