Page 110 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

“Because he does laugh and smile and he’s a good man,” I said, feeling defensive of him. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You start by being honest,” Mom said gently. “With him, with yourself, with everyone. No more hiding.”

“I don’t think he wants to hear from me,” I said.

“Maybe not, but if you don’t tell him how you feel, how is he ever going to know?” Mom asked.

I knew my mom was right. I had to be honest with Roman, even if it terrified me. I had to lay it all out there and let the chips fall where they may. Hiding behind the half-truths and falsehoods that started this whole arrangement wouldn’t fix anything.

“Maybe,” I said. “But I think I should give him some time to settle down.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Mom said. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep? You can talk to him in the morning.”

We talked for a little while longer, but when I hung up, I didn’t feel any better. If anything, I felt worse. I’d hurt Roman. I’d hurt Carla. I’d shut my parents out of my life. And for what? To pretend I was someone I wasn’t, living a life that wasn’t mine?

I curled up on my bed, clutching a pillow to my chest as the tears kept coming. I didn’t know how to make any of this right. All I knew was that I felt broken, and the one person who might be able to put me back together was the same person I’d hurt the most.

After crying until I didn’t have any tears left, I got out of bed and took off the dress that was now wrinkled.

I hung it up and put on my own clothes. I looked around the large closet filled with designer outfits. It was another reminder of my attempt to be someone I wasn’t. The whole charade spectacularly exploded in my face.

42

ROMAN

Istared up at the ceiling in my bedroom. Alone. I was pretty sure I had not slept all night. Nothing I did would give me relief. It was like a form of torture. There was no escape. I had to wallow in the pain of betrayal. All the walls I put up to protect myself were in ruins and I felt exposed and vulnerable.

But not for long. I would never let myself feel like that again. I would never let myself be exposed like that. Ever. My arm automatically reached out to feel the empty bed. It had been way too easy to get used to having her beside me.

The decision to close myself off again was almost reflexive, a protective shell hardening around my battered heart. I rolled out of bed, my body heavy with exhaustion yet restless with stormy thoughts.

In the dim light of dawn, I walked over to the window and stared into the backyard.

I knew what I had to do. There was no way this thing with Kaira was going to work. Real or fake. Whatever it had almost been was never going to happen. It was a foolish plan from the very start. I had let myself get caught up but now I could see just how stupid it had been. I wouldn’t repeat that mistake.

I showered and headed downstairs. I spotted one of my staff members. She was a newer one. I couldn’t remember her name.

“Marissa,” I said.

She jumped and spun around. “Sir! I didn’t see you.”

“Sorry to have scared you. I have a job for you.”

“Of course.” She nodded.

After telling her what I wanted, I walked to the kitchen to get some coffee. A lot of coffee. I leaned against the counter and stared at nothing. Recently, mornings were the two of us sharing coffee. Sometimes, she would make me breakfast, other times we would enjoy whatever the cook prepared.

But now, the kitchen felt void of warmth. The absence of laughter and light-hearted teasing was louder than any other noise.

My mind kept replaying the moments that led to this cold morning. How could I have been so naive? I allowed myself to believe in a fantasy, and now the reality felt harsher than ever. No more illusions.

I pulled out my phone to check my calendar. I hoped it was a light day. I didn’t have the strength to deal with anything big.

That was when I saw it. The dinner reservation for tonight. For fucking Valentine’s Day. It was a splash of cold water. I quickly cancelled the reservation, the action feeling final and painfully symbolic. It was supposed to be a celebration of us, whatever “us” might have been—real or imagined, it didn’t matter anymore. A feeling of regret tickled at the back of my mind. Maybe I should have handled things differently. But it was too late for maybes.

I tossed the phone onto the counter with a clatter, rubbing my temples as I tried to shake off the headache that was building behind my eyes. The house was silent around me. I knew the rest of the staff would arrive or wake up soon.

And so would Kaira.