CHAPTER EIGHT
Lennon
I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, the soft hum of the restaurant still vibrating through the walls. The faint scent of perfume lingers in the air, mixing with the sharp scent of air freshener. My palms are clammy against the cool marble of the sink, and I try to breathe deeply. But I can’t shake it—him. Ruben Posada. His gaze, the way it burned through me, the intensity of it, even across a crowded room. I let out a long, slow breath, my reflection staring back at me, disappointment in its eyes.
“Get it together, Lennon,” I mutter under my breath, watching as my lips move but not hearing anything I say. What the hell was that? Why did I freeze when he looked at me? I should’ve been stronger than that. I’ve faced so many challenges in my life—losing my mother, surviving childhood without any family. Freya being my only foundation. I should be immune to the pull of a man like him. I’ve dealt with grief, with loss, and the theater—it should be my only focus. That’s what’s important. Not him. Not Ruben.
But it’s not that simple, is it? No, because his eyes… damn it. He’s magnetic, and my body can’t resist the pull. And the worst part? I want to let him in. I want to feel that thrill, that heat radiating from him, even if it feels like it’s burning me alive. No. This isn’t about him. This is about the theater. The theater is mine, it’s my past, a treasure to save for the future. It’s what I can’t let go of.
I swallow hard, staring at my reflection as if I might find some strength there. “You’re stronger than this. He’s your enemy. Remember that.” I move my head trying to shake the idea of him. How hot he is or the way his presence seems to overpower everything else. I open the faucet and splash water over my face like it can erase the memory of the fire in Ruben’s eyes.
I hear the door swing open behind me. My heart jumps in my chest before I can even process the sound. I turn to find him standing there, leaning against the doorframe like he’s always been a part of the space. Like he’s always been in my head. His eyes meet mine, that slow, confident smile curving his lips, and I’m stuck.
“This is the women’s service,” I snap before I can stop myself, the edge in my voice sharper than I intended.
Ruben tilts his head, one brow arching. “Service? Ah, yes. I’m performing a service. I just couldn’t let you slip away without a proper goodbye.”
My breath catches in my throat. The way he says it, that deep, raspy tone—he’s playing a game I’m not prepared for. I want to tell him to leave, but I can’t bring myself to say it. Not with him this close. His presence is as suffocating as it is intoxicating.
“I wasn’t going anywhere,” I say, forcing myself to sound calm, to stand tall in front of him. But I know my voice cracks. I know I’m not fooling him.
He steps inside the room, his movements deliberate, each step like a slow march toward something inevitable. The door clicks shut behind him with a finality that sends a jolt through my chest. He’s here with me in this small space, all-consuming. His gaze doesn’t leave mine, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes. “Funny. You looked like you were about to run.”
I roll my eyes, refusing to let him see how much his presence affects me. “You think everything’s a game, don’t you?”
Ruben chuckles, a low sound that vibrates through the air between us. “Only when it’s worth playing,” he replies, stepping even closer. His broad frame fills the space, the heat of his body pressing against mine in a way that makes my pulse spike. He’s too close now, and my breath hitches. But I stand my ground, even though every nerve in my body screams at me to step back.
I swallow hard, pushing back the wave of heat that floods me. “You really believe you can intimidate me.”
“Intimidate you?” He leans in just slightly, his lips brushing my ear as he speaks. “No. I don’t need to intimidate you.”
I close my eyes briefly, trying to center myself. The proximity is too much. His scent, the warmth of him, the rich, dark timbre of his voice… It’s overwhelming. My body betrays me. “Then what do you need, Ruben?” I ask, the words coming out sharper than I intend.
“I just need to make you want me.” His voice drops to a murmur, thick with a promise that makes my knees feel weak.
There it is. The truth. And damn, it hurts. It’s not about winning. It’s not about the theater or his job. It’s about him. He’s not trying to beat me. He’s trying to take me. Own me. I’m not sure whether to slap him or to give in to whatever twisted thing is drawing me toward him.
“Why don’t you just admit it?” he presses, stepping even closer now. His chest brushes against mine as he lowers his voice to a husky whisper. “You want to run, but you’re too intrigued. You want to hate me, but you can’t. And that, Lennon…” His lips curve into a slow, confident smile. “That’s why you’re here talking to me. Tell me to go and I will. I dare you. Tell me to go.”
I open my mouth to argue, to tell him to go straight to hell, but the words die on my tongue. What am I supposed to say? I do hate him, don’t I? But my body is betraying me. Every fiber of my being wants to step closer, to feel his hands on me, to taste that dark promise he’s offering. But this is wrong. I can’t. Not with him. Not with everything I’ve fought for.
But my breath hitches as his thumb grazes the back of my hand, and I can’t stop the shiver that runs through me.
He leans in, his lips almost brushing my ear. “I think you’re a lot more than you’re letting on. Maybe I’ve figured you out, Lennon. Or maybe…” He pulls back, just enough to lock eyes with me. “Maybe you’re still trying to figure yourself out.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t focus on anything except the way he’s looking at me, like I’m a puzzle he wants to solve. I want to slap him. Push him away. But instead, I find myself leaning in, drawn to the pull that I’m powerless to resist.
His eyes flick to the door, then back to me. “Don’t make me chase you,” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ll enjoy it more than I should.”
Then, just as quickly as he appeared, he steps back, his smirk widening. “Catch you later, Lennon,” he says with that same cocky, infuriating grin. Before I can react, he’s gone. The door swings shut behind him with a soft click. Suave, Posada, suave.
I stand there, feeling his absence like a weight pressing down on me. What the hell just happened? My chest feels tight. My skin is burning where his presence lingered. The echo of his voice, that goddamn smirk… he’s left his mark on me, and I’m not sure if I should be angry or relieved.
With shaky hands I grab the sink again, commanding my emotions to gather themselves, but it’s useless. I can’t stop thinking about him.
I stand there for a long moment, my heart pounding in my chest, my breath shallow. What the hell just happened? I should have told him to leave. I should’ve stayed focused on the theater, on everything that matters. But instead, I let him get under my skin. I let him… make me feel something I’m not ready for.
I don’t know how long I stand in front of the sink, trying to collect myself. But eventually, I leave the bathroom, my legs shaky beneath me. I’m barely able to pull myself together when I find Jason waiting by the table. His smile is warm, expectant, like he’s happy to see me again, but I can’t bring myself to smile back the same way.
I sit down, the chair scraping across the floor, and we continue our meal, though the conversation feels far away now. I’m aware of his every word, but it doesn’t matter. This doesn’t feel real, not with the memory of Ruben’s gaze still burning in my mind.
Jason talks on, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside me. He’s a good guy, and in another life, maybe we could’ve had something. But not tonight. Not while Ruben’s voice, his touch, his damn gaze are still there, hovering just out of reach.
Eventually, the meal ends, and Jason insists on walking me to my car. He’s kind and attentive—everything a woman could want. And yet, when we reach my car, all I can think about is Ruben.
“Want to come home with me? We could watch a movie,” Jason asks, his voice hesitant, a little uncertain.
I force a smile, my mind still elsewhere. “I had a long day,” I say, stepping back from him, trying to feel the electricity. The temptation. The pull. Anything at all.
Jason leans in, his lips close to mine. “Goodnight, Lennon,” he murmurs, trying to kiss me.
But I pull back just enough to stop him, my hand on his chest. “Not tonight, Jason. I’m sorry.”
His brow furrows, but he doesn’t press. “Okay,” he says quietly, taking a step back. “I’ll see you soon.”
I nod, watching him walk away before I slide into my car. The drive home is a blur, my thoughts consumed by Ruben Posada. And I can’t shake it. He’s in my head, his voice, his touch, all swirling together in a dangerous potion.
By the time I reach my home, I feel like I’ve lost something I never had. I don’t know how to fix it.
But I know one thing for sure. Ruben is never far from my thoughts.
And that’s the part I’m most afraid of.