Page 18 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

She let out a frustrated huff, yanked the door open, and disappeared inside without another word.

“I fully intend to cash in, Kaira!”

The door shut, and I found myself standing there with a stupid grin on my face.

I had dodged a bullet tonight. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that Kaira might not be out of my life for good. There was just something about her I couldn’t simply walk away from. In the back of my mind, I knew I should. The last thing I needed to do was chase after a woman who hated me.

I got back into the car and shut the door. “Home,” I said, slumping into the seat.

Kaira’s indifference was like a breath of fresh air in a life otherwise filled with sycophants and yes-men. It was unsettling but intriguing. As much as I tried to dismiss her from my thoughts, curiosity gnawed at me. What made her hate me so much? What had shaped her into the fiercely independent creature that sat across from me earlier, scoffing at my attempts at civility?

By the time the car pulled up in front of my building, a plan was already forming in my mind. I needed to see her again.

Just let it go, Roman.

But I knew me. I knew the way I worked. I never just let anything go.

7

KAIRA

Iwoke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Carla singing an off-key rendition of some pop song in the kitchen. Carla was probably in the category of one of the older Swifties. I had never personally cared for the music, but Carla loved Taylor. Which meant our Alexa playlist was filled with her music. It grew on you after a while.

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled into the small but cozy kitchen of our two-bedroom condo. Carla was flipping pancakes with one hand and scrolling her phone with the other, her oversized sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder.

“Morning, sunshine,” she said, flashing me a grin.

I groaned in response, heading straight for the coffee pot. “I need caffeine before I can deal with people.”

I grabbed a mug and filled it up.

“How was your night at the ball, Cinderella?” she asked.

“It was an auction—and you wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

She slid a pancake onto a plate. “Wait, is this a real story or an idea for a story you want to write?”

“All this happened, more or less.”

Carla leaned against the counter, her interest piqued. “Spill.”

I took a sip of my coffee, the bitterness waking me up before the caffeine did. “I went on a date with a billionaire.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “A billionaire, huh?”

“Yep.”

“How big was his dick?”

“I don’t know, but he was a pretty big dick.”

She frowned at me. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“He was one of the rich guys at the auction I worked last night. I was standing and very innocently watching a bunch of rich ladies frothing over the billionaires, bidding insane amounts of money.”

“Wait, we can buy one? How much do they cost?”

“Well, the one I bought cost about a hundred thousand dollars.”