Page 8 of The Kiss that Captured a Billionaire (Heart & Soul #2)

EMPLOYEES ONLY. DO NOT ENTER.

He didn’t hesitate.

He unhooked the rope, slipped past, and refastened it behind him with a quiet click—one more illusion maintained.

The staircase was tight and steep, built for crew, built to be unseen. It wound upward between aged brick and thick beams. The air grew warmer, filled with the scent of dust, paint, and aging wood. The throb of the stage below grew distant, like a heartbeat muffled by time.

He climbed faster, his muscles coiling with the memory of her scent, her voice, her lips.

Their kiss.

She had run from him.

But this time—he would catch her.

The stairwell narrowed as he climbed, the worn wooden steps groaning faintly beneath his shoes. Dust motes floated in the sliver of light from a grated vent, catching on the dark wool of his coat as the air shifted around him.

He rounded a turn, his hand brushing the brick wall—and stopped.

She was there.

Halfway down the staircase, framed in light from an open door above, her silhouette paused. One foot hovered above the next step, frozen mid-motion, as if her entire body had locked.

Their eyes met.

The impact was instant.

Theo felt the breath slam from his chest.

Her eyes—God, those eyes—dark sapphire and brimming with everything she hadn’t said two weeks ago. Hurt. Surprise. And vulnerability so raw it twisted something deep in his gut.

For a second, neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

He could hear her breath, quick and shallow. Could see her knuckles go white where she gripped the stair rail. She lowered her eyelashes, concealing her emotions, shielding them behind a mask of calm.

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like to see any part of her hidden away from him.

She tried to retreat, but he’d already seen what he needed to know—that fraction of a second of awareness, desire… need. She had been as affected by him as he had been by her.

He took a step up, slow, cautious, as if he were approaching a wounded animal. He continued until they were level—nearly eye-to-eye. The narrow stairwell left no room for posturing, no place to hide.

She lifted her chin.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said in a low voice that was cool and composed. “This area is for employees only.”

He didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

All he could think about was the shape of her mouth. The taste of her kiss. The way the world had narrowed to a single breathless moment—and then fractured.

He swallowed and searched her face. “I had to see you again.”

Her eyes flickered with emotion again before she shrugged.

“Well, you’ve seen me. I guess you can check that off your to-do list. You need to return to your seat. Only authorized personnel—which you aren’t—are allowed in this area, for safety,” she said, shifting up a step.

He reached out—gently—and cupped her hand.

He didn’t tighten his grip.

But his touch was enough to make her pause.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and rough. “About that night. About what you saw.”

She said nothing. She didn’t deny that she had witnessed Allegra kissing him.

“Allegra’s an old friend of my family,” he continued. “She caught me off guard. I didn’t want or invite her kiss.”

Something flickered behind her eyelashes. Doubt. Hope. Confusion.

She tried to pull her hand free, but his thumb stroked softly across her knuckles, and she stilled.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said finally, looking away. “You kissed me. You kissed her. I’m sure you’ve kissed a lot of women. It was just a kiss. One kiss. Not a big deal.”

“It was—for me,” he said, lifting his free hand and letting it hover by her cheek before his fingers traced the curve of her jaw, the soft angle of her face. “It mattered.”

She shook her head, but he could see the tremble in her lips. “Be real. You don’t even know me.”

“I know what I felt. I know what I still feel. And I know you felt it too. I want you. You want me.”

Her eyes snapped to his, wide and luminous.

She pursed her lips. “Go find another Cinderella to charm. I’m not interested.”

She pulled her hand free and started to turn. He climbed a step.

“I can prove it,” he said.

She hesitated and turned to look at him with an incredulous expression. “How? I didn’t leave a glass slipper behind.”

“Let me kiss you again,” he murmured, his voice low, seductive. “You’ll know.”

She inhaled sharply and pressed herself back against the wall. Her hand rose to press against his chest. Her shoulders were rigid, but her fingers curled into his shirt.

“No,” she said, her chin lifting and tilting with defiance. “You’re not—this isn’t—” She bit her lip. “Go find someone else. I’m not interested. I’ve got better things to do with my life.”

He stepped closer, his body taut with restraint.

“Liar. Do you think I can’t see the way you react to me?

This isn’t something either of us can ignore, Rose.

Tell me that you haven’t thought about our kiss over the last two weeks.

Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t wondered what it would be like to kiss again. ”

“I gave you one kiss,” she said, barely audible. “That’s all. I’m not in your league, Theo. I don’t even want to try. Just… go away and forget about me. It was a mistake.”

The words hit like a fist, but he understood. She was scared. She might not want to admit it—might not even realize it—but she was afraid that he might hurt her.

He couldn’t help but wonder if some other man had. The thought made him want to break whomever it may have been—and protect her from it ever happening again.

Before he could respond, the soft thud of shoes echoed on the steps behind him.

“Hey—uh—sir?” a voice called nervously.

Theo turned, his jaw tight.

A lanky young man wearing a theatre staff lanyard stood frozen two steps down, his eyes wide. “This area is off-limits to patrons. I’m gonna have to ask?—”

The look Theo gave him wasn’t angry, but it had enough steel to turn the last half of the sentence into a garbled mumble.

“R-right. I mean. Sorry. Uh. It’s just…” the man trailed off.

Theo turned back—but the stairwell above him was empty.

She had fled again.

A soft curse fell from his lips as his hands curled into fists at his sides. She was a ghost—slipping through his fingers again. But this time, she hadn’t vanished into the unknown. This time, he knew where she was and he would be the one doing the haunting.

He pushed past the volunteer with a clipped, “She works here, doesn’t she?”

The guy blinked with a confused expression. “I—I think so. I don’t know her name. I’m just a volunteer. Sorry, man.”

Theo gave a tight nod and descended the stairs, emerging into the lobby with barely contained frustration burning in his chest.

The curtain had just fallen when he returned to his seat. The crowd stood in applause, the final scene of the play echoing faintly in his ears as he stepped through the private door.

Nikos rose from his seat, his eyebrows raised. “Well? Did you find her?”

Theo nodded once, his voice a rasp. “She works for the theatre.”

Nikos smiled, a slow grin spreading. “Then what’s next?”

Theo picked up his bourbon, downed the last sip in one smooth swallow, and let the burn settle.

“We go to the after-party,” he said, eyes locked on the stage curtain.