Page 113 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

I’d done the right thing, hadn’t I? I had protected myself, my company, my future. This was what the board had warned me about—getting too close, letting my guard down. Kaira had crossed a line, and I couldn’t let that slide. I couldn’t let her slide.

So why did it feel like I’d made the biggest mistake of my life?

43

KAIRA

Anthony kept looking in the rearview mirror but, thankfully, said nothing. I had no idea what Roman told the staff. I felt like I had been cut off. They were Roman’s people. I had betrayed the boss and now I was on the outs.

“Are you okay?” Anthony asked quietly.

I offered a weak, watery smile. “No.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” My voice was barely above a whisper, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak loudly.

Anthony kept his eyes on the road. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

I nodded, staring blankly out of the passenger window. “Yes, I still have my condo. I think.”

I wasn’t necessarily surprised Roman was throwing me out. I was going to leave anyway. But there had been a small part of me that hoped he would calm down and be willing to talk about what happened. I had been hopeful I would join him in the kitchen for coffee and he would be open to having a conversation. He would express his disappointment. I would apologize and promise not to do it again and we would move forward, together.

I should have known that was a pipe dream. Roman was not the kind of man that allowed for second chances. He had a hair trigger. While I didn’t necessarily agree with his over-the-top reaction to me being in his mother’s studio, I understood it when I put myself in his shoes. I knew how jaded he was. I had learned about his past and the way he kept everyone at arm’s length.

And ultimately, I had made a mistake by breaking a promise. Now I had to suffer the consequences.

The ride to my condo felt longer than it should have. It was strange to go from the sprawling estates with iron gates and acres of perfect, lush green lawns to the crowded city streets. Buildings packed together like sardines. The only green was the palm trees.

It felt like shifting between two worlds in a single journey. This was probably what Cinderella felt like when she rushed out of the ball. As Anthony pulled to a stop in front of my building, I hesitated before opening the door, not quite ready to face reality. He offered to help me with my bags, but I declined.

“Thank you, Anthony,” I said, forcing myself to sound normal. “It was nice meeting you.”

“If you need anything…” he started, his concern visible despite his professional demeanor.

“I’m good. Take care of him.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said with a nod.

Anthony pulled away when an impatient cab driver honked the horn. I stayed where I was, staring up at the building. I should be happy to be home. But what if Carla didn’t want to see me? What if I wasn’t welcome here anymore either? After our conversation yesterday, I had a feeling she was going to be less than thrilled at my return.

I had been a little homesick. It was the same brick and glass structure I’d always come back to after long days, the place I’d called home for years. My safe place with my cozy blanket on the back of the couch and my very basic bed. It wasn’t a lot, but it was mine and it was comfortable and familiar.

But now, it felt foreign. Like someone else’s home.

I trudged up the stairs, dragging my luggage behind me. Each step felt heavier than the last. When I reached the door to our apartment, I paused, my heart pounding. I wasn’t sure if I should knock or just let myself in. It was my place. I was on the lease, but it didn’t feel like I belonged.

Finally, I took a deep breath and turned the key.

The familiar hum of vacuuming greeted me as I stepped inside. Carla was in the living room, her back to me, headphones in place as she worked the vacuum over the worn carpet. She swayed slightly to the music, completely unaware of my presence. For a moment, I just stood there, watching her, trying to gather the courage to say something.

Eventually, she noticed me. Her movements slowed, and she straightened, turning off the vacuum. She pulled out her earbuds and tilted her head at me. “I thought you might show up.”

I looked down at my feet, my voice barely above a whisper. “He kicked me out.”

“Oh.” Carla deflated slightly, her brows knitting together.

“What?” I asked, noticing the way her expression shifted.