To Capture Ruba's Heart: Ruba and Pele, #1

By Lenga Arch

"To Capture Ruba's Heart" follows Ruba, a young man who decides to turn his life around after being dumped on his birthday and a wild night that ends with him jerking off his future boss. Two years later, when Ruba is doing his internship, he discovers that the CEO of the company is none other than his drunken hookup.
Pele gives up his kingdom to move to another world in search of the love he lost two centuries ago. In order to stay in this world, he must steal a ring from dangerous people. Money and wealth do not matter, all he wants is a chance to win Ruba's heart and live happily ever after. 
Both Pele and Ruba must navigate the complexities of love as they fight for a chance to be together. Will they succeed, or will their pasts come back to haunt them? Find out in this captivating tale of love and adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lenga Arch
• Release date: Jun 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223142218

Lenga Arch

I write comfort novels that bring comfort and love. I have parents who are in a toxic relationship so I do not like writing books about unhealthy relationships. I dream of a relationship where both partners feel safe and supported. It might hurt some days because even if it is a healthy relationship does not mean it is an easy relationship. Grab a coffee and a piece of cake, cuddle under the duvet and enjoy...

Book preview

Chapter one

The bar was engulfed in darkness, its atmosphere somber.

Mali pushed his drink away, and the sound of the glass scratching the mahogany surface echoed throughout the establishment.

We need to break up, Mali uttered softly, but the words caused Ruba's heart to plummet. He had anticipated those words for a long time, but never did he expect them to be delivered on his birthday.

Playing with the cake on his plate, Ruba mumbled, Couldn't you have waited until tomorrow to tell me this?

Avoiding eye contact, Ruba clung to the hope that by not looking up, this wouldn't be happening to him.

It couldn't be happening.

You and I both know it's been over for a while, Mali's voice wavered, exacerbating the pain. The fact that they had once loved each other held no significance in that moment.

I can do better. We can try therapy, Ruba whispered, struggling to speak past the rock lodged in his throat. We just need to put in more effort.

Mali scoffed, Which therapist in this country would accept a gay couple?

As much as it hurt, Ruba knew Mali was right.

I think I have to go, Mali announced, pushing his chair back as he stood up. The noise didn't seem to bother the other patrons in the bar.

Mali retrieved his brown leather wallet and left a few bills on the table. His warm hands briefly rested on Ruba's shoulder, momentarily rekindling a sense of familiarity. You're a cool guy. I suggest you find a real job.

With those words, Mali's warmth dissipated, taking the last five years of Ruba's life along with it. Now, he was a broke twenty-four-year-old with no job, no university degree, and his pursuit of becoming an artist was deemed insufficient to qualify as a real job.

The vacated chair scraped against the floor, rekindling hope within Ruba's heart. He looked up, only to be met with the most radiant eyes he had ever seen—eyes filled with a dancing joy. He wanted nothing more than to quash that joy.

What are you looking at? Ruba snapped, feeling the stranger's gaze upon him.

Rough birthday? the man inquired, scrutinizing Ruba from head to toe. Ruba took that moment to examine the man, dressed sharply in a suit, which only fueled his resentment.

Bet he has a real job, Ruba thought, as he took another bite of the cake that now tasted like cardboard.

What gave it away? Ruba retorted, allowing bitterness to seep into his voice.

The man pointed at Ruba’s head. The party hat and the whole cake you're eating in a bar.

Ruba glanced down, realizing he had pulled the entire cake closer to himself and was now devouring it alone. In the last five years he had let all his friendships fall away. He always believed Mali was enough—why would he need friends when he had Mali? Mali was a friend and a lover, someone who supported his dreams and loved him.

It's my twenty-fourth birthday.

Don't worry, life becomes easier as you grow older.

Just because you're old doesn't mean you know everything, Ruba responded, not caring about calories or maintaining a pleasant demeanor, as he took another bite of the cake.

Wow, that's a first. I've never been called 'old' before, the man chuckled, raising his glass to his lips for a sip.

To hell with the cake, what he needed was alcohol. Pushing the cake away, he signaled to the bartender, Whisky, neat, please.

That'll be a thousand, the bartender replied, causing Ruba to pause. What had he done with his life to be unable to afford getting drunk after a heartbreak? Mali had always taken care of the bills, assuring him it was okay to pursue his dreams.

After a moment of contemplation, the man leaned toward Ruba and whispered, Short on cash?

Ruba's initial instinct was to push the man away and leave, but what was there to be ashamed of? He had already endured enough shame that night, he realized, glancing at the half-eaten cake.

I don't have any money.

Bring us a bottle of Jack Daniels. My friend here needs it, the man said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a few bills. For the first time in years, Ruba considered that perhaps getting a real job wasn't such a bad idea. A regular salary and a conventional life seemed more appealing.

The first glass was consumed as soon as it was served, the burning sensation down Ruba's throat made him feel alive.

My boyfriend broke up with me, Ruba confessed as he poured himself another glass. On my birthday.

Despite downing the second glass, the sadness persisted—he needed to feel nothing.

I'm supposed to feel sorry for you, the man remarked.

Any normal human being would, Ruba replied, pouring himself a full glass this time. He took a sip, intending to demonstrate to this stranger the depth of emotions. Have you never been in love?

The composed man, who seemed to have an air of detachment, smiled as he gently placed his glass on the bar counter. What you felt for him was not love, it was merely a chemical reaction that occurred from prolonged proximity to the same person.

To hell with sips, Ruba thought, listening to the stranger's perspective on love, and he downed the entire glass. Before he knew it, the entire bottle of Jack Daniels had been consumed while he attempted to explain the magic of love to this complete stranger.

The following morning, sunlight seeped into the room, awakening Ruba. He covered his hand with his arm and turned, burying his head in the warmth beside him. His hand brushed against a firm, yet soft, chest. Keeping his eyes closed, he relished the sensation.

Mali must have been working out. He feels firmer than I remember, Ruba contemplated, his hand sliding down to Mali's underwear. He traced the line of the fabric before slipping his hand inside. Morning sex was always delightful, he thought, gently rubbing Mali's hardness.

Mali seemed larger, more veiny than he recalled. Ruba grasped and stroked, taking his time to caress the head, just as Mali liked.

He knew it; last night must have been a dream. Mali would never leave him.

The groaning sound from the bed created a pleasant melody of encouragement, and Ruba quickened his pace. Mali's breathing grew more rapid until Ruba felt warm liquid coating his hand. Never had his heart felt such elation.

Planting a tender kiss on Mali's chest, Ruba whispered, Good morning, handsome.

That was a really good morning, came the response, and Ruba suddenly realized something was amiss. That voice wasn't Mali's—Mali didn't possess such a deep voice.

No, no, he hadn't given a stranger a hand job. It wasn't possible. Mali had been his first, his only.

Jumping out of bed, his eyes half-open, Ruba stumbled and ended up on the floor beside it.

What are you doing in my bed? he stammered, even before registering his surroundings.

This is my house, the man who had sat beside him at the bar after Mali left replied, sitting up.

Ruba glanced around and realized it wasn't his house. What had he done?

I have to go, he blurted out, pulling the sheets around him as he scrambled to find his clothes.

Don't be ridiculous. Give me a moment, I'll shower, and then I can give you a ride, the man offered as he headed for the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, Ruba hastily dressed and fled the house. Glancing back at the mansion, he wondered what he needed to do to achieve such financial freedom.

Shaking off those ridiculous thoughts, he ran out the gate and began walking. It took him a while to realize how scorching the sun was. He didn't know where he was, and he didn't even have a home to return to. He had moved from his mother's house into Mali's. Should he go back to Mali's or return to his mother's?

As he collapsed in tears, realizing those were his only options, he knew he needed to make a change.

Dreams were for losers.

It was time to give up on his dreams.

Retrieving his phone from his back pocket, he dialed the number he knew by heart.

Hello, his mother's sweet voice greeted him, causing him to cry even harder.

Mom, I'm ready to go back to college, he managed to say, attempting to hold back his sobs.

His dreams were over; it was time to grow up.

Chapter two

Two years later

If we're late for our first day of internship, I swear I'll push you down the stairs and let you drown in the pool. Jish declared as they hurried towards the front door,

Ruba pushed open the door to their new office, responding, How many times do I have to say I'm sorry? I didn't hear the alarm clock ring. It's not my fault.

Jish accused, You were up all night playing video games again, weren't you?

Ruba defended himself, saying, "No, I wasn't. How could I play video games on such an important