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

Her gaze fell on the worn picture frame propped on the end table. She picked it up gently, running her thumb over the image of herself and her grandfather—both grinning, covered in grime, elbow-deep in the guts of a rusted-out lighting panel.

A lump rose in her throat.

Her father had passed away after years in a vegetative state—injuries from before she was even old enough to understand. It had been the death of her grandmother when she was sixteen that had truly devastated her—until four months ago.

After her grandmother’s death, it had just been her and her grandfather. He had filled that hole with quiet strength, scratchy flannel hugs, and stories that made the walls echo with laughter.

Losing him had shattered her all over again. The cancer had come fast, brutal and unrelenting. From diagnosis to goodbye, it had been just weeks.

“I miss you, Pop,” she whispered, kissing the corner of the photo before gently placing it back on the end table.

She closed the small carry-on suitcase that she had filled with the stuff she wanted to keep. Old photo albums were nestled between a bundle of letters and a faded handkerchief.

A knock at the door startled her out of the moment.

“Come in!” she called, wiping a tear with the sleeve of her oversized hoodie.

The door creaked open, Kerry Evans’s pixie-cut curls bounced with her enthusiasm as she poked her head inside.

“Damn, girl! This place looks… spiffy!”

Rose chuckled as she stood and stretched. “It’s amazing what happens when you remove thirty years’ worth of ‘potentially useful junk’.”

Kerry stepped in, her eyes scanning the clean shelves, the newly scrubbed wood floors, the vintage light fixtures that now gleamed with polish. “Wow. It looks… huge. You sure you’re not just gonna start roller-skating through here?”

Rose laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Are you staying on at the theatre?”

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 at The Rocks . He can get us in—no cover.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “ The Rocks ? As in, that Rocks ? 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.