Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Theo
The next day, I’m knee-deep in research, sifting through case studies of theaters across the country that have been restored and reopened.
It’s probably a waste of time, seeing as no one’s on board. Still, I can’t stop. I need proof. Examples. Something to convince myself that saving The Cobalt isn’t a fantasy.
It wouldn’t be easy. It wouldn’t be cheap.
But it might be possible.
Marley bursts into my office wearing a simple wrap skirt and a fitted black top. Maybe I’m biased, but even out of ballet clothes, she still looks like a dancer. Graceful, poised—like she’s always seconds away from stepping into a spotlight, even when there’s no stage in sight.
I push my laptop closed, wanting to give her my full attention.
“Theo, they know,” she says, breathless. “Everyone … about the theater.”
I knew the announcement was going out today.
Hearing the public’s reaction never gets easier.
Most days, I can let the noise and backlash stay in the background of my head.
Because if I don’t, I start listening. And if I start listening, I start caring.
And what happens when I care is that I care to such a degree that I become invested.
My life has been one long case study in avoidance, and at this point, I don’t know if that makes me a failure or a genius.
“What’s the general consensus?” I ask.
“You know that time Khaleesi burned down an entire village because she was so angry?”
“I have no idea what a Khaleesi is, but it sounds violent.”
“Ugh, I forget you don’t watch TV. Khaleesi is a badass dragon queen that caused a lot of unnecessary destruction, but that’s beside the point.
” She exhales, frustrated. “People are really pissed. Everyone. My director has been blowing up my phone since the second she found out. She thinks I’m a traitor for working for the company that’s buying the theater and bulldozing it. ”
“We haven’t made any official announcements about tearing it down.”
From across my desk, she narrows her eyes at me like she’s on her last nerve. It’s adorable.
“This company has a bit of a reputation, Theo. At this point, it’s assumed.”
More than anything, I want to have a word with this director. To let her know we tried, and that none of this is Marley’s fault.
“Are there other venues your company can perform at?”
“Of course there is. The Cobalt let us perform there for next to nothing, though, which meant we could actually turn a profit. We’re a small company, we don’t make a huge amount. If we have to start booking venues at full price, we won’t struggle, we’ll dissolve.”
I lean back, exhaling. “I’m sorry, Mar. If I had a choice, I’d keep the theater alive. The board doesn’t see it like that though. What they see is a pile of money to be made.”
“I know.” Her voice is quiet. “And I swear I’m not asking you to do anything about it. It just sucks. In another world, I wish things could be different.”
She plops into the chair across from my desk. A seat few people ever take. Ever since Marley came along, though, it has slowly become hers.
“Tell me something to distract me from real life,” she mumbles, crossing her legs and settling in like she plans to stay a while.
I consider it for a second. “My entire family has threatened to disown me and adopt you instead.”
This makes her grin.
“So, you’re saying I made a good impression? They liked me?”
“‘Like’ would be a drastic understatement. They loved you. And sorry if they came off a little forward. I’ve never brought a girl home before. Not that this is … like that,” I add quickly. “But still, they were hoping.”
“You’ve never brought a girlfriend home?” she asks, disbelieving.
“Never.”
“But you’ve dated?”
“I’ve dated,” I confirm. “Not so much recently, but yeah.”
It was a long time ago. And somewhere along the way, I stopped trying and stopped carving out time for something I knew would eventually fail.
“I bet they were all neurosurgeons or supermodels,” she muses. She doesn’t sound jealous, but there’s something in her tone that could easily be mistaken for it.
“I can confirm that none of them were neurosurgeons or models.”
She arches an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.
“Okay, fine. There was one surgeon, but she wasn’t a neurosurgeon.”
Her lips twitch. “I knew it,” she whispers conspiratorially, like she’s uncovered a scandal. “How long ago was your last relationship?”
I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that I love being the center of her attention.
However, she feels like she’s too damn far away from me when she’s on the opposite side of my desk.
I push up from my chair, rounding the furniture until I’m next to her.
Then, in one swift motion, I grip the arms of the chair and drag her closer to where I’m seated.
The furniture legs make a loud screech in protest to being moved on the tile with such force.
“Why are you so interested in my dating life?” I lean in, hands still braced on either side, caging her in.
She shrugs, looking up at me. “I don’t know. I think I just want to know everything about you.”
That may be one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. To have someone want to know you, not out of obligation, but simply because they want more of you.
While I’d never willingly tell people any personal details, I think I’d do anything she asked of me, even talk about the parts of my life I’ve always kept locked away.
Not many people know I haven’t dated in half a decade. Even my own family doesn’t know the extent of my isolated living.
“My last relationship ended more than five years ago,” I say.
She chokes, eyebrows shooting halfway up her head as if I’ve told her that I have two dicks. “Five years ago?”
I nod.
“But you’ve, you know …”
“What?”
“Had sex?”
That one word out of her pretty little mouth is all it takes. There’s not been much talk of sex between us before, but apparently, when you haven’t had it in half a decade, hearing the word is almost enough to send your body into overdrive.
I crouch in front of her, resting my arms along the outside of her legs. My thumb grazes the bare skin peeking from beneath her skirt, and she shivers, goose bumps rising wherever I touch.
“You really want to know if I’ve fucked someone else?” I rasp, voice rougher than I intend.
My thumb, completely ignoring any sense of restraint, drags slow circles against her thigh. Just brushing the edge of fabric. Dangerously close. Close enough that the five-year drought nearly ends from the thought alone.
“I haven’t,” I admit, laying my embarrassing truth out there.
She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t hesitate. She simply reaches for my wrist, guiding my hand higher. “Touch me then, Theo,” she breathes, placing my hand between her thighs.
I try to keep my hand steady as my fingers brush against lace that’s thin, delicate, and doing nothing to help my self-control. She has no business wearing something like this around me all day. Not when I’ve spent every second pretending I don’t want exactly this.
And I should stop. I should put her chair back where it’s sat since my father worked here. I should transfer Marley to a new department, hire an assistant I haven’t caught feelings for, and let this be the line I refuse to cross.
None of that happens. Nothing can stop this train already barreling down the tracks.
Especially not when her fingers stay wrapped around my wrist, urging me forward as she spreads her legs wide.
“Please,” she whispers.
Who am I to say no? To deny her exactly what she’s asking for? I’m a man who’s been given permission to touch the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.
I nip her collarbone. “Tell me to stop.”
She shakes her head, a soft gasp slipping from her lips as my thumb brushes against her clit through her panties.
“Tell me this is a bad idea,” I murmur, mesmerized by watching her reaction to my touch.
“The worst,” she breathes. “But don’t stop. Keep going, please.”
A shiver rolls through her, and I feel it against my lips as I tease her skin with light kisses, soft bites, breathing her in until goose bumps rise along her arms.
It’s no fucking use. The press of her backside, the slow roll of her hips, unhinges me.
But it’s her hand curling into mine the second I run my fingers down her arms that undoes me completely.
I push past the fabric of her panties, savoring every second, every desperate movement of her hips. For all I know, this could be the first and last time I get to touch her like this.
I try to memorize everything.
The way she grinds against my hand, chasing more. The soft exhale she lets out when my fingers finally find her, brushing over her clit, spreading her open. And when I push the first finger inside, she cries out, her body clenching around me.
I’m in awe. Completely undone by the way she responds, the way she moans when I add a second finger. My eyes stay locked on her as I push in deeper, as she arches toward me like she can’t get close enough. Every sound she makes is wrecking me, pulling me under right along with her.
I pause, my thumb grazing over her clit, just to feel the way her whole body trembles beneath me.
Letting out a soft, whimpery sigh, she arches into my hand.
When I curl my fingers, hitting that spot that makes her gasp, she reaches for me.
Her fingers digging into my shirt, pulling me closer, wordlessly pleading for more.
Our faces hover inches apart, breaths tangled, eyes locked.
There’s nothing guarded between us now. Only heat and hunger and the way we see each other so clearly in this moment.
Then she grabs my wrist, guiding my movements, fucking herself with my hand.
Taking control with this quiet, desperate confidence that melts every last bit of restraint that I have.
She’s using me for her pleasure and trusting me enough to let go like this.
It’s also hands down the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.