Page 15 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire
When she finally burst through the front doors, the cool night air hit her like a balm—and so did a broad chest.
“Whoa!” Rhys blinked down at her. “Miss? I thought you were—uh—upstairs?”
She straightened, gripping her damp sweater and willing her voice not to crack. “Change of plans,” she said, pasting on a brittle smile. “Tell your boss… to-to have a nice life.”
Rhys opened his mouth to respond, confusion flickering in his eyes, but she was already moving—quick steps carrying her away from the pounding bass, the velvet ropes, and the man who had kissed her like she meant something… then shown her that she didn’t.
She didn’t look back.
She couldn’t.
Because if she did, she might cry—and she didn’t cry for anyone.
Especially not for the Devil in a tailored suit with a mouth that could undo her world.
Tonight, the rose had drawn blood.
But this time, it was her own.
The Manhattan skyline stretched out before him like a map of broken promises and unreachable answers.
Theo stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse office, hands buried in his pockets, jaw locked so tight it ached. Below, the city moved—chaotic, tireless, oblivious. A sea of yellow cabs, steel canyons, and neon-streaked lives swirled beneath his feet like an ocean of distractions.
And somewhere in that sprawl—hidden behind one of those millions of lights—was her.
Rose.
A woman who’d vanished as completely as if she’d never existed.
He exhaled through his nose, fighting the tightening in his chest. It had been two weeks, and every hour since he’d tasted her, since he’d watched her walk into the restroom, clutching that damn sweater away from her body, only never to return, had been an eternity.
He suspected what had happened the moment he realized she was gone—that she had come back, seen Allegra clinging to him like a desperate barnacle, and drawn the worst conclusion.
And why wouldn’t she? The timing had been disastrous.
Allegra had arrived uninvited, sauced on French wine, and launched herself into his arms before he could shove her off. By the time he had disentangled himself, Rose had left.
Rhys had confirmed his suspicions after a search of the restroom to see if Rose was alright turned up nothing. The bouncer asked if everything was alright and told him that the young lady had asked him to tell his boss ‘to have a nice life’.
Those first few minutes had nearly brought him to his knees—and he hadn’t stopped bracing for impact since.
The realization that he didn’t even know her last name, that he could very well never see her again, hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest. Even now, the dull ache continued until he lifted his hand and rubbed at his chest—over his heart.
He turned from the glass with a frustrated growl, raking a hand through his hair. His office was a study in sleek power: black marble floors, minimalist furniture, brushed steel accents, and the soft, perpetual hum of technology always working in the background. Two enormous monitors glowed quietly on the wall behind his desk, running security algorithms and discreet surveillance scans.
Kallistratos Security Systems was one of the best in the world—but none of it had helped.
Finding Rose in New York—without a full name, address, or digital footprint—was like trying to find a diamond in the Sahara.
The office door opened without a knock. He didn’t need to look up.
“Nikos,” he said flatly.
“Still brooding over Cinderella?” Nikos asked, stepping inside with his usual irreverent energy.
Theo didn’t respond.
Nikos took one look at him and sighed. “You’re going to give yourself ulcers. Any luck?”
