Page 11 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

For the first time tonight, I was starting to think it might not have been the worst choice ever.

5

KAIRA

This guy was the definition of a Grade-A asshole. Roman Kelly radiated entitlement, as if the world should bow down at his feet simply because he graced it with his presence. He probably expected women to fawn over him, to throw themselves at his feet—and probably other parts of him, too—showering him with adoration.

But I was not one of those women. I had agreed to accompany him, yes, but only because I saw no other option. It wasn’t as if I could simply saunter away from the consequences of that insane auction.

Damn that woman and those stupid feathers.

“Sir?” The driver looked at Roman in the rearview mirror.

“Dinner.”

“Yes, sir.”

It felt like they were speaking in shorthand. Or Roman was just too damn good to have a conversation with the lowly driver.

That irritated me.

The champagne in my hand was untouched after that first obligatory sip. I did not want to get drunk. Not around him. I didn’t think I was in any danger of him trying to get in my pants, but I had read enough books and had seen the true crime shows. Men weren’t exactly picky about who they banged. It was more about getting a little piece of every pie and nothing about the person they were having sex with.

I was not going to be one of those women who slept with some rich guy because I had some wild Cinderella fantasy. He was not going to fall in love with me and pull me out of the poverty I wallowed in.

Roman watched me. I could feel his eyes on me even as I continued to ignore him. He had this way of observing that felt almost invasive. And then he pulled his phone out.

It was my turn. I wanted to watch him.

Who was Roman Kelly?

From where I was sitting, all I could see was a spoiled, overgrown man-child who had clearly never been told “no” in his entire life.

But why did he have to be so hot?

It was infuriating.

I caught myself staring. The sharp cut of his jawline, the tousled hair swept effortlessly back, the stubble on his face that was just the right amount of rugged. And those hazel eyes, intense enough to pin you in place.

And that body. He didn’t just look strong; he looked powerful. Like he could toss me around with ease if he wanted to.

Not that he would. Men like him didn’t go for women like me. And thank God, because I couldn’t stand his cocky attitude, like he could do whatever he wanted. He might be physically attractive, but he was so irritating. Obnoxious. A jerk. Although he hadn’t technically been a jerk to me, I was sure he was a jerk in general. He had that air of a true snob. An elitist.

Roman glanced up from his phone, maybe sensing my gaze. Our eyes met for a flash of a second, but in that moment I saw something flicker there. Maybe curiosity, maybe amusement, it was hard to tell with him.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To eat.”

“Can you be more specific?” I asked.

“Yes.” He smirked and turned his attention back to his phone. “But I’m guessing you probably won’t know it. You’ll see when we get there.”

I opened my mouth to retort that it was a total asshole statement but then snapped it shut. He didn’t care about my opinion of him, and sadly, he was probably right. The fanciest place I went to regularly had golden arches out front.

I sipped my champagne. Now that the reality of my situation was sinking in, I needed the bubbly or I was going to start panicking at any second. Behind me was an angry boss, who I had left dangling without explaining what was going on. Ahead of me was a night with a man who might as well be an alien for how different we were.