Page 4 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire
The smile softened on Rose’s face. “Yeah. I think so. I mean… I’ve got my degree in accounting and economics, so I can work remotely. But this place—this apartment—it’s the only home I’ve known. It still feels like Pop’s here. And Mimi hasn’t said anything about making changes.”
Kerry snorted knowingly. “Mimi would be a fool if she did. You’re like the Swiss Army knife of this place. You fix the boilers, rewire the lighting, organize props, patch holes in the stage, and once, I swear I saw you re-upholster a bench during intermission.”
Rose grinned. “Longest intermission of my life.”
“And in return,” Kerry went on dramatically, “you get to live in a charming, itty-bitty basement suite with mysterious plumbing and world-class acoustics every time someone uses the orchestra bathroom.”
Rose mock-gasped. “Excuse you—this suite has character. And plumbing that gurgles like a horror soundtrack. Not every apartment in New York can claim such honors.”
“Thank goodness,” Kerry teased, flopping into the one cushioned chair. “Seriously, though—you’ve made this place shine.”
Rose looked around at the freshly scrubbed walls, the cleaned sconce lights, the polished tile edging that her grandfather insisted had come from Italy in the 1930s. “It’s home.”
Kerry’s tone turned playful again. “Speaking of shining… Wanna go out tonight? Clarissa’s new boyfriend knows the bouncer atThe Rocks. He can get us in—no cover.”
Rose raised an eyebrow. “The Rocks? As in, thatRocks? The one with the velvet rope, overpriced cocktails, and music that’ll make my ears bleed by Monday?”
“Exactly!” Kerry grinned. “So… will you come?”
Rose hesitated, arms crossing loosely. “I have an appointment early tomorrow.”
Kerry narrowed her eyes. “On a Sunday?”
Rose just smiled, not offering more. She didn’t feel like explaining that her ‘appointment’ involved a graveyard and a bouquet of lilies.
Kerry sighed dramatically. “Please? If you don’t come, I’ll be stuck as a third wheel, and Clarissa gets mean when she’s the only beautiful woman in the group. You know her ‘humble goddess’ act doesn’t last under pressure. I need your sarcasm to shield me.”
Rose gave her a look, and Kerry clasped her hands under her chin, eyes wide, lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Not the puppy face. You know I hate it when you do the puppy face,” Rose muttered, groaning. “Okay, I’ll go. But only for a couple of hours… and it will have to be after tonight’s performance. You know I hate missing them. I need to be here in case something goes wrong.”
“Yes! That’s alright, we aren’t meeting until eleven.” Kerry leaped up and hugged her. “Clarissa’s boyfriend doesn’t get off work until ten. Don’t be late, or Clarissa will try to tell the bouncer I’m a stray poodle with a bad haircut and not to let me in.”
Rose was still laughing as her friend dashed out the door, calling over her shoulder that she was late for lunch with her latest ‘almost-boyfriend’.
Silence settled once more.
Rose looked around her little home—its worn brick walls, exposed piping, the shelves where her grandfather’s tools once sat. The clutter was gone, but the warmth remained—and so did the memories.
She reached up and touched the locket around her neck, thumbing the worn edges. Inside was a photo of her parents—one of the few she had—and a tiny pressed clover her grandfather had given her for luck.
“Okay, Pop,” she whispered. “I’m doing this.”
Grabbing her to-do list from the counter, she slipped out the door into the dim backstage corridor. The old theatre creaked and hummed around her like a living thing.
There were curtain rods to fix, a leaking pipe behind the dressing room, and a flickering stage light that refused to behave.
It was a new chapter, but this was still her stage.
Two
The low thud of the bass pulsed through the floor like a second heartbeat. Beneath the glass-paneled balcony, the club swarmed with bodies—twisting, grinding, and glowing under violet and amber lights that swept the room like the hands of a restless lover.
The Rockswas at capacity again. Downstairs, the bar glittered with rows of glass bottles and flashing cameras. Heat rolled off the crowd like waves, thick with perfume, sweat, and anticipation.
Theo swirled the amber liquid in his crystal tumbler, the drink catching the soft blue lighting of the VIP lounge. From his private booth—tucked into the shadows above the chaos—he observed it all with a detachment that had grown over the past two months.
The music no longer pulsed in his blood. The dancers no longer intrigued him. Tonight, like so many others, he was simply… here. Waiting for someone to dull the tension in his veins.
