Page 14 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire (Heart & Soul #2)

Nine

Rose stood before the dressing room mirror beneath the stage, smoothing her palms over the pale blue cocktail gown.

The fabric shimmered under the old vanity lights, catching silver flecks hidden in the tulle.

Her heart was pounding—and it had nothing to do with the snug bodice or the unfamiliar feel of satin against her thighs.

The dress had been designed by her grandmother for a lavish production of West Side Story , and it still carried the flash of curtain calls and spotlight dreams. As Rose had slipped into it, she couldn’t help but think of Cinderella or Belle getting ready for their date with a prince.

She twirled, her eyes lighting with delight as the filmy material swirled elegantly around her calves.

She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to take it off.

Behind her, Kerry let out a low whistle, stepping back to take in the full effect.

“Well, if the billionaire doesn’t fall flat on his face when he sees you, I’ll personally push him down the stairs,” she declared, planting her hands on her hips.

Rose laughed, thin and breathless. “It’s not that serious.”

Kerry raised an eyebrow. “You’re in a dress, glowing like a spotlight, and you’ve been smiling like it’s opening night ever since you told me about the kiss you two shared on the stage this morning. I’d say it’s serious enough.”

Rose turned in a slow circle, the gown flaring around her like a blooming flower. For a moment, she let herself drift into the fantasy. Candlelight, music, Theo’s hand reaching for hers beneath a starlit sky. Her throat tightened. She pressed one hand to her stomach.

“Nerves?” Kerry asked knowingly.

“Terrified. This is my first proper date—the ones with you don’t count,” Rose admitted with a small smile. “Theo and I haven’t talked since… you know.”

“Since you kissed the man like the last act of a Broadway love story?” Kerry teased, nudging her shoulder.

Rose laughed again, but her gaze dropped. “I don’t know what this is. Maybe it’s nothing, but he makes me?—”

Her cheeks flared with color again.

“Maybe it’s everything you’ve dreamed of. You deserve to be happy, Rose. Don’t be afraid to reach for it.” Kerry adjusted the delicate neckline of the dress before stepping back again. “Also, just putting it out there… If Theo bails, my brother Robby is in town.”

Rose frowned. “Wait—Robby? The one who builds furniture and looks like he wrestles bears for fun?”

Kerry grinned. “The very one. He’s here making a delivery for a big-name designer.

Hates driving a box truck through the city but loves New Yorkers with money.

And,” she added with a wink, “he said if things don’t work out with your billionaire, he wouldn’t mind meeting the mystery girl who has kept his sister out of trouble. ”

Rose rolled her eyes, but her smile bloomed. “That’s flattering. And slightly terrifying.”

“Just options, girl,” Kerry said with a shrug. “A wise woman never keeps all her tiaras in one trunk.”

They both dissolved into helpless laughter. It felt good—effortless and light. For the first time since her grandfather’s death, Rose felt lighter, younger, freer, and daring, as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders.

When Kerry checked the time, she grimaced. “Crap. I’ve gotta go. Robby’s taking me out for pizza before he heads back tomorrow. He wants real New York pizza,” she said in an exaggerated New York accent.

She reached for her coat, then paused, catching Rose in a sudden, fierce hug.

“You look beautiful—like, fairytale beautiful. Don’t let that billionaire hurt you, or I swear, I’ll hunt him down with my brother’s lathe.”

Rose hugged her back tightly, her eyes stinging. “I’ll be okay. I promise. It’s just… a night. A one-off.”

Kerry hesitated, her eyebrows pulling together like she wanted to say more—but then she just pressed a kiss to Rose’s cheek and whispered, “I want every detail tomorrow. Even the scandalous ones.”

Rose smiled faintly. “Sure. Every detail.”

Even though they both knew… she probably wouldn’t.

Kerry left in a flurry of laughter and promises, her boots clicking up the hallway.

Twenty minutes later, Rose stepped out the side door into the service alley, her heart beating like a timpani beneath her ribs. She rounded the corner to the front, climbing the curved steps to stand beneath the covered entrance.

The theatre loomed behind her, a familiar cocoon. But tonight, she felt like a stranger to herself—like someone new had slipped into her skin and borrowed her name.

She was adjusting the silver shawl that went with her dress when a sleek black SUV pulled up to the curb. The back door opened, and Theo emerged in a tailored charcoal suit—cut to steal a woman’s breath.

Rose gulped, licked her lips, and hoped she wouldn’t embarrass herself by drooling.

Theo paused on the first step, his eyes devouring her with a silent hunger that caused an unfamiliar heat to pool between her legs and spread outward.

For a beat, neither of them moved.

A slow, devastating smile curved across his lips. His eyes darkened, roving over her with a hunger that made her pulse skitter.

“You…” he said, his voice rough. “You’re—stunning.”

Color rushed to her cheeks, but she managed a smile. “I, uh, raided the costume storage. I wasn’t sure jeans and a sweatshirt would be considered date-worthy attire.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he moved up the steps, each stride a promise.

He took her hand in his. “Whatever you wear is perfect. Wearing nothing would be even better,” he murmured—and then, without waiting, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t polite. It was a claim.

His lips captured hers with a hunger that stole her breath, one hand braced at her lower back, the other tangling in her dark, shoulder-length curls. Her lips parted when he deepened the kiss.

She clutched at his jacket, dizzy with sensation. There was nothing gentle about this kiss. Hell, there had been nothing gentle about any of their kisses. Even the one he had brushed across her lips had felt wild and untamed.

That was fine with her. She didn’t want gentle. She wanted this. Him.

When he finally pulled back, his warm breath caressed her lips. His eyes held hers, unreadable and intense.

“Now I’m ready,” he said, his voice low, nearly reverent.

He led her down the steps and into the car like she was royalty, his hand never leaving hers. She glanced at him as he gave the driver an address she didn’t recognize.

He turned to her, his expression unreadable but soft at the edges.

“Trust me?” he asked.

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

He hadn’t planned this—at least, not the way it was unfolding. He hadn’t planned the impulsive kiss on the steps or the rush of desire that nearly undid him in full view of the street.

Rose was breathtaking in the shimmering blue cocktail dress that clung to her like it had been made for her alone. His pulse was still racing, his mind at war with his body—one demanding restraint, the other wanting nothing more than to claim her now.

Her kiss that morning had set his world on fire and left it smoldering all day. He’d gone through meetings, calls with his father and brother, and couldn’t recall a word of them. All he could think about was the way she had looked at him… the way she had kissed him like he was everything to her.

Now, sitting beside her in the back of the SUV, his hand resting lightly over hers, he could feel that storm rising again. He hadn’t let go of her since she’d slid into the seat. It had taken every ounce of willpower not to pull her onto his lap and taste her again.

Instead, he’d given the driver an address where there would be no cameras and no interruptions.

His penthouse.

She turned to him, her brow knitting slightly. “Where are we going?”

Some of the earlier sparkle in her voice was gone, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable.

He noticed the faint tremor in her fingers. His chest tightened. A wave of protectiveness washed over him.

“Somewhere we can talk,” he said gently. “Without being overheard. Or distracted.”

Her eyes lifted to his. She didn’t pull away when he brought her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

He breathed a relieved sigh when the SUV pulled into the underground parking garage. He exited, holding his hand out to help Rose. They entered the garage-level elevator.

He released her hand and flashed his watch across the keypad interface.

The elevator ride to the penthouse was done in silence.

He flexed his fingers, anticipation thrumming inside him.

He didn’t touch her—he couldn’t—but he felt her presence like heat against his skin: the faint scent of her hair, the subtle rise and fall of her breath, the awareness coiled in the air between them like static before a storm.

When the doors slid open to reveal the skyline, she released a soft gasp. The Manhattan lights stretched endlessly in every direction, glittering like a thousand tiny stars.

The penthouse was sleek and masculine—steel, charcoal, glass—but softened by art and warm lighting. A castle built by a man who could have anything money could buy.

“My chef has prepared dinner,” he told her, gesturing toward the table set for two near the terrace doors. “We can eat inside, or outside if it’s not too cold.”

“You have a personal chef?” she asked with a faint smile, her gaze roaming the room.

“Yes,” he said, but her attention wasn’t on the table anymore—it was on him.

He was about to offer to take her wrap when she moved. Her hands slid over his chest, up to his shoulders, before looping behind his neck. Her lips were on his in the next breath—hot, urgent, unguarded.

“Rose…” he murmured into her mouth. “Oh, my sweet Rose.”

Desire roared through him, drowning every rational thought. He kissed her back, deepening the kiss until his head spun.

“What about—” he tried, breathless, “—dinner?”

“Later,” she whispered against his lips.