Chapter 33
MILA
She is kissing Theo Tilbury in the shadows behind the stage.
And it is not a casual, polite, post-speech peck.
No, this is hands-in-hair, heart-in-throat, full-body-contact making out.
She clings to him, her back pressed against the dusty velvet curtain. Theo’s hands are firm at her waist, his mouth hot and sure against hers.
Every inch of her is thrumming. Her skin sings beneath his touch, and her thoughts have all scattered like pages in a storm. She should be thinking about the event. About the schedule. About literally everything else.
But all she can think is: I’m kissing Theo. And he’s kissing me back. And I don’t want it to stop.
His lips trail to the corner of her mouth. She exhales against him, her hands sliding up his chest, exploring all the dips and sculpted muscle like a randy teenager. Only Theo is no teenager. His kisses are skilled, dirty, and deep, so intense Mila feels a rush of warmth between her thighs.
“God,” she whispers, lips brushing his jaw. “You’re really good at this.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, low and breathless. “I’ve always been more show, instead of tell.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Should I be jealous?”
“No,” he murmurs, mouth ghosting along her jaw, sending delicious tingles straight to her clit. “You should be warned.”
That earns him a soft moan she immediately regrets making—but not enough to stop.
Her body presses closer. Her heart’s practically vibrating. And underneath it all is a wild, beautiful terror.
This is real now. Not fantasy. Not anonymous flirtation. This is him and her.
No masks. No games.
And she’s more turned on, more emotionally exposed, more alive than she’s been in years.
Which is, of course, exactly when Naomi’s voice slices through the moment like stilettos on a church floor.
“Mila, babe. I love this for you. Truly.”
Her voice filters through the curtain, full of reluctant amusement.
“And I hate to interrupt, but we’ve got a situation with the silent auction.”
Mila groans, breaking the kiss and pressing her forehead into Theo’s neck. His body hums against hers, his tie askew, lips red and kiss-bruised, hair adorably tousled. He looks like someone who’s been halfway to heaven—and was rerouted through event management hell.
Naomi peeks around the curtain with one hand covering her eyes. “Is everyone decent, or do I need to come back with a fire extinguisher?”
“We’re decent,” Mila mumbles, dragging herself upright as every molecule in her body screams in protest.
Naomi lowers her hand and grins like a woman who’s discovered a juicy secret. “Enjoying yourselves?”
Theo bites back a smile. Mila glares at her so-called friend. “Naomi.”
Naomi flips her tablet around. “Someone’s messing with us. One bidder has placed absurd amounts on nearly every item. I’m talking a hundred grand on box seats, monopoly money numbers. It’s screwing with the whole system.”
Mila frowns. “That shouldn’t be possible. People have to log in with verified info. Their name, payment info, the whole thing.”
Naomi nods. “Exactly. But this one signed in under the name Porky Pig.”
Theo’s spine snaps rigid, like a marionette yanked taut by invisible strings.
Mila immediately steps in front of him, protective instinct flaring. “That’s not funny.”
“We need to find out who it is,” Naomi continues, vexed.
“No need,” Theo says quietly from the shadows.
“It’s my brother,” he says, eyes dark. “Conrad.”
Even in the dim light, Mila can see the change in him. The way all that warmth, the vulnerable glow from before, drains from his face. His mouth flattens. His eyes sharpen. Shoulders tense.
He looks like someone who’s just been kicked in the chest.
She reaches for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. “Why would he do that?”
“To fuck with me,” Theo says, bitter and sharp. “He always finds a way. That’s what he used to call me when we were kids. Because of the...”
He can’t finish. Doesn’t have to.
Mila’s heart splinters.
She’s seen him quiet. She’s seen him guarded. But this? This is different. The shame in his voice. The way his shoulders hunch, like he’s trying to disappear. Like he half-believes he deserves it.
It makes her want to scream.
He pulls his hand from hers and turns slightly, jaw tight.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten involved. I mess everything up.”
“No,” she says firmly, placing her hands gently on his chest, grounding him. “Theo, this is not your fault. This is him.”
He looks at her, and her heart twists painfully.
His eyes are dark and hollow, haunted by words he won’t speak aloud, festering quietly beneath the surface.
All she wants is to reach for him, to pull him into her arms and bury him against her chest, to stand like a wall between him and the world that never gave him a fair chance.
“Naomi, how much did he bid?”
Naomi sighs, holding out the tablet. “A hundred grand on box seats. Twenty for a signed jersey. And...fifty thousand on a round of golf with Jake and Theo.”
Mila swears under her breath. The round of golf had been Jake’s idea—something lighthearted, fun. She remembers Theo’s hesitation before agreeing. How he trusted them. How Jake assured him it would be fine; he would do all the heavy lifting.
And now this.
“This is cruel,” she says quietly. “He’s making a joke out of everything you shared with this room.”
Theo shrugs, but there’s no real apathy in it. Only pain. “It’s what he does. He’s not serious. He wanted to remind me that no matter what I do, I’m still the family embarrassment.”
Mila’s hand tightens around his. “He will not get away with this.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Theo mutters.
“No,” she says, voice like steel. “Let me.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t know what he’s like.”
“I don’t care.”
She cups his cheek, thumb brushing lightly over the stubble there. “I’ve been handling men like Conrad my entire career. Besides,” she adds, softer now, “this is my event. I will not let him ruin it.”
Theo looks at her for a long moment, something tender flickering in his hazel eyes.
“I’ll find you later,” she promises, leaning up to press a quiet kiss to his mouth. “Don’t disappear on me.”
“Not a chance,” he says, voice low.
Her chest tightens as she steps away. One last glance over her shoulder.
And then she walks off to make the acquaintance of Conrad Tilbury, already planning the sharpest smile she’s ever worn.