Page 19 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

“Damn, I better start saving up my pennies.”

“No, listen. I was watching the auction and some woman walked by me wearing half a dead bird on her dress.”

She cocked an eyebrow and flipped another pancake. “Is this one of those faerie books you like?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, I’m being serious. Feather Lady, who was just a regular human lady with poor fashion sense, walked by me and the feathers tickled my nose. I sneezed and the auctioneer counted it as a bid, which I won. So I bought a billionaire.”

She stared at me. “Then I hope you’ve been saving up your pennies.”

“It happened, Carla. It was very real.”

“So is he in your bedroom?” she asked nonchalantly. “Can I borrow him when you’re done? Anoint him in oils and send him to my room.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny.” She sipped her coffee. “You’re broker than me and I’m really fucking broke. So I know you didn’t buy any billionaires.”

“No, I actually bought the guy for a hundred and ten thousand.”

“Come on.”

“Yep. I’m serious.”

“Where the hell did you get that kind of money? Did you rob a bank? Without asking me?” She looked hurt.

“No, obviously I don’t have a hundred thousand dollars to piss away.” I sighed. “Are you seeing the problem?”

Carla shook her head, trying to process what I’d just told her. “So, what happened next?” she asked.

“I was going to explain the mistake, even though I’d probably get fired, but the billionaire I bid on grabbed me and pulled me out the door to go on our date.”

“How are you going to get that money?” She smiled and wagged her brows at me.

“We’re not robbing a bank,” I said, appreciating that she still had a sense of humor. I was having trouble finding mine. “He said he’s going to cover the bid. I tried to get him to let me straighten everything out but he wasn’t having it. The guy is insufferable. Like, peak billionaire jerk. He made me sit through an entire dinner listening to him brag about himself. And don’t even get me started on the nightclub fiasco.”

Carla’s eyes lit up. “Oh, please, do get started. Someone had quite the adventure last night.”

I sighed, pulling out eggs and bacon from the fridge. “He rented out an entire restaurant. Like a really, really nice place. Just the two of us.”

“Sounds like a romantic date.”

“Well, it wasn’t actually a date,” I protested.

“It sounds like a date. And you called it a date. I mean, it still counts even if you have to pay for it.”

“Hey!”

“What did you eat?” she asked.

“All these fancy dishes. Like seven courses. I have no idea what any of it was but it was good. So then he takes me to this super exclusive club, right? Only, he dragged me out of work. I was in my uniform, which did not meet their dress code. He didn’t even think about that ahead of time! Anyway, we ended up at a diner eating pie. Pie, Carla!”

“Pie sounds nice,” she said, grinning.

“Not when it’s with Roman Kelly,” I muttered, cracking eggs into a bowl.

Carla froze, the spatula in danger of melting against the pan. “Wait a second. Roman Kelly? Hold on.” She flipped the pancake and furiously typed something into her phone, then spun it around to show me.

There he was, shirtless on some beach, his abs looking like they’d been carved from marble.