The velvet curtain falls with a soft swish, but the applause continues to thunder through the theater. Eliot remains seated in his private box, his intense gaze fixed on the empty stage where she stood moments before. The cigarette between his fingers burns unnoticed, ash growing dangerously long before finally falling onto the expensive fabric of his trousers.

He doesn't flinch.

His men pretend not to notice, their eyes carefully averted as they stand at attention by the door. They know better than to interrupt their boss when he's in one of these moods—when his mind has fixated on her again.

"She looked at me tonight," Eliot says finally, his voice low and dangerous, sending a chill through the air despite the warmth of the crowded theater. "Did you see it? That little glance toward this box?"

The men exchange nervous glances but don't respond. They've learned silence is often the safest option.

Eliot stands abruptly, his tall frame towering over the small space as he moves to the railing, gripping it so tightly his knuckles whiten. "She wants me to approach her. I see it in those eyes—yearning."

Before his subordinates can react, he's striding toward the door, already unbuttoning his suit jacket. "Clear the backstage area. Now."

"But boss, the theater manager—"

"I said clear it!"

The sharpness in his voice cuts off all further objections. Within minutes, Eliot is moving through the labyrinthine backstage corridors, his expensive leather shoes clicking against the concrete floor. His presence alone is enough to send crew members scurrying out of his path.

He finds her in her dressing room, the door ajar. Her delicate fingers fumble with the zipper at the back of her costume as she hums the final notes of her closing number. The sound of her voice, so clear and pure, stirs something primal deep within him.

Without knocking, Eliot pushes the door open, causing her to gasp and spin around, one hand flying to her chest.

"You shouldn't leave doors unlocked in places like this," he says, his voice smooth as silk but with a dangerous undertone. He takes a step closer, crowding her personal space as his eyes rake over her body.

"Who are you? How did you get back here?"

Eliot smirks, taking another step forward until their bodies are almost touching. He reaches out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "I'm the man who's been watching you," he murmurs, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. "And I've decided... you're mine."