Page 18 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire
Just the man. With shadowed eyes and a kiss that had undone her.
Her smile turned wry.
He was still the Beast, she thought, her fingers tightening around the locket. All brooding edges and guarded charm. But in her heart, she had wanted him to be more. She had wanted him to choose her.
Foolish girl. She knew better.
Magic was just an illusion.
Still… what would it have been like if he had meant what he said?
She descended the catwalk with ease, stepped to center stage, her sneakers silent on the wooden floor, and twirled once beneath the ghost of a spotlight. Her laugh was soft and sad.
“Some dreams,” she whispered, “are only meant for the stage.”
And with that, she turned back toward the wings, humming Belle’s melody as the velvet curtain of memory fell and she picked up her broom, returning to the quiet rhythm of work.
The theatre spread out before him like a temple of shadows and glittering light.
Theo stepped into the private balcony box, the hush of velvet curtains and polished brass swallowing the sound of the bustling world outside. The usher nodded respectfully and gestured to his and Nikos’ reserved seats—plush, high-backed chairs nestled in a secluded corner of the upper balcony. It offered an unobstructed view of the stage, the orchestra pit, and the layered crescents of seating fanning out like a half-moon below.
Theo had been in hundreds of theatres across the globe. Paris. London. Athens. Dubai. Lavish venues dripping with opulence. But this one—small, weathered, intimate—felt alive.
He sank into his seat, his fingers tightening around the curved polished oak armrest. It wasn’t the stage that held his interest, though the set design was a masterpiece of theatrical illusion. Golden candelabras twinkled like stars. The ballroom shimmered with the promise of magic. No, it was what surrounded it—the unseen clockwork of movement—that captured his attention.
Above him, quiet figures moved with the grace of shadow puppets across a network of catwalks, adjusting lights, fine-tuning sound. From the wings, silhouettes disappeared behind thick velvet curtains, guiding actors into place and wranglingprops with practiced precision. Every movement was a cog in an invisible machine, orchestrated to bring a story to life.
He was used to watching the performance. This was the first time he truly paid attention to the wonder of what existed behind the illusion.
A soft voice broke his focus. “May I offer you a beverage, gentlemen?”
A young server stood slightly behind them, clipboard in hand. Nikos smiled lazily and ordered a whiskey. Theo murmured, “Bourbon. Neat.”
The woman nodded and disappeared. Theo’s eyes drifted once more across the tiers of seats. People were filtering in now—laughing, finding their places, flipping through playbills. Anticipation buzzed faintly in the air.
He caught movement below as ushers in crisp black-and-whites guided guests to their seats. His mind, however, remained occupied by one thought. One face.
Rose.
The name was a drumbeat in his chest. A prayer. A promise. Would she be here? Would he see her? Could he get to her before she disappeared again?
When the server returned, she placed the drinks on a small side table with a quiet flourish, along with a crisp ivory envelope. Theo’s fingers closed around it. He opened it swiftly, scanned the note, and released a low breath of satisfaction.
He passed the card to Nikos, whose eyes danced as he read.
“VIP invitation to the post-show cast party,” Nikos said with a grin. “Nice move.”
Theo allowed a rare smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. “We’ll see if it pays off.”
Nikos clinked his glass against Theo’s. “To chasing fairy tales.”
But Theo wasn’t drinking. His eyes were scanning the upper levels, sweeping over balconies, stairwells, and elevated walkways.
The house lights dimmed. The music swelled.
The play began.
Theo’s attention roamed restlessly from the lower level to the upper tier. Searching, waiting, hoping to see a familiar form.
