Page 103 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

“I know it’s real,” I said. “She’s not someone who plays games. And honestly? I don’t want to be the man who lets doubt ruin something good. I’ve been that guy before, and I won’t do it again.”

The room fell silent, my conviction hanging in the air.

“You know the risks,” Julia finally said. “If you’re sure, then we’ll back you. But don’t go into this blind.”

“I’m not,” I assured her. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

That wasn’t entirely true. I had no clue what I was doing but I was hoping my heart and instincts weren’t going to lead me astray.

My revelation of my true feelings for Kaira left the room in a state of disbelief. More questions were lobbed at me. But through it all, I stood firm in my belief our relationship was very real and genuine. The Roman of three months ago would have faltered at the mere whisper of scrutiny.

The meeting dragged on, each argument met with an unwavering resolve. I had made up my mind, and nothing they said could sway me.

“That’s all I have,” I said and got to my feet. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Back in my office, I leaned back in my chair and turned to the window. The conversation had left a lingering edge of uncertainty, but I wasn’t going to let it derail me. I was not going to let my own self-doubt sabotage this thing with Kaira.

This was real.

Kaira wasn’t using me. She wasn’t pretending. If anything, she’d been the one keeping me grounded through all of this. She’d seen sides of me no one else had and still stayed. And when I pushed, she didn’t just go along with it—she set boundaries, reminding me that this wasn’t supposed to be complicated.

I thought about the way she made my house feel like a home again. The way she made me believe in things I’d given up on long ago—family, connection, love. I wanted to be the guy in her corner, cheering her on and encouraging her to finish her book. I hoped I could help her write another one. I wanted to use my connections to get her book in front of agents and publishers. I wanted to build her up. Help her dreams come true.

She had redefined my vision for the future. I found myself actually thinking about things like fatherhood. Me. A dad. The thought would have scared the shit out of me before. But not now. I knew Kaira would be a damn good mom. I didn’t have any illusions I would be a good father, but I trusted her to guide me down the parenting road if things went that way.

Holy shit. What had this girl done to me?

Tonight, I was going to surprise her with a dozen of her favorite raspberry macarons. I knew she was probably deep into her writing. She was always doing stuff for me. Little things like leaving handwritten notes in my coat pockets or brewing fresh coffee just the way I liked it before I even mentioned I needed a caffeine boost. Small gestures that told me more about her feelings for me than grand declarations could ever manage.

This was a real relationship. It couldn’t be all me taking from her. I needed to give and not in a monetary sense. I had to give of myself.

39

KAIRA

Ihad the house to myself. Well, as much to myself as it could be with a full staff roaming about. I spent most days alone. I caught up with Carla a lot more these days but she was working. I wasn’t lonely, but I was a little bored. The estate was huge and there always felt like there was more to explore.

“Kaira?”

I turned to see Marilyn gesturing for me to come into the kitchen.

“What’s up?” I asked.

She held up a deck of cards. “We finished early for the day. You asked if we had time to play cards earlier. Now, we do.”

I grinned. “Yeah!”

We settled at the large table in the dining room. A few of the other staff members joined us, bringing in a coffee service to keep us nice and caffeinated. Marilyn shuffled with the expertise of a Vegas dealer, her fingers deftly mixing the cards in a rhythmic dance.

“So, gin rummy?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

I nodded, eager to dive into the game. It was one of those old comforts from my childhood, something my grandmother had taught me on rainy afternoons. My parents and I still played the game when I went home for the holidays.

As we played, the conversation flowed easily. It felt nice to connect with the staff on a more personal level. They shared stories about working for Roman over the years, giving me glimpses into sides of him I hadn’t seen yet.

“He’s changed since you came, you know,” Marilyn said casually as she discarded a card.

I had heard that several times. “Good. That makes me happy.”