Page 28 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

I turned to look at my VP. “Are you involved in this image repair?”

“I’ve made some suggestions,” he said.

I leaned back, not bothering to hide my disdain for the whole process. I folded my hands behind my head. “Let’s have it.”

They proceeded to pitch their ideas one by one.

First up was a suggestion to “shmooze the public.” I shot that one down before they could even finish.

“I’m not kissing babies at grocery stores or showing up to weddings uninvited like some Hallmark movie character,” I said. “What else?”

The second idea involved some kind of charity tour. A detailed map of events I would attend, complete with photo ops and press releases about how much money I had personally donated.

“No,” I snapped. “I already donate to charity. I just don’t use it as a marketing stunt. I may be an asshole, but even I know better than to brag about my charity. Isn’t there a proverb or something about being humble?”

“But there are plenty of ways you can show your charitable side without getting into all the details.”

I shook my head. “Not happening. I’m not exploiting the charities or the work they do. Next.”

A younger board member looked like he had something to say but was too terrified to speak.

“Just spit it out,” I said. “I don’t think your idea could be any worse than what I’ve already heard.”

He cleared his throat. “I would suggest you try to be ‘warmer’ to the media.”

I laughed. “Let me get this straight: you want me to roll out a welcome mat for the same people who stand outside my building at six in the morning and shove cameras in my face? The same people who’ve gone out of their way to smear my name this week. What have they done for me? Nothing. They’ve done nothing but made my life hell. Pass.”

The silence that followed was heavy. The board members exchanged desperate glances, like a pack of deer realizing their last path to safety was blocked. They could all give me their opinions but each of them knew I was the one that made the final decisions. I was Roman Kelly. I was the company. I could take my toys and go home. I’d still be rich. No skin off my nose.

And then they all looked at Mary.

Mary had been on my board longer than almost anyone. A shrewd, silver-haired woman who didn’t mince words. She was the type who could politely tear you apart in a way that made you thank her for it. I respected her. She was one of the few people I did respect in this world.

She was their secret weapon.

She cleared her throat. “Roman, there’s one option we haven’t discussed yet. It’s unconventional, but it could be the answer to your image problem. It would solve many of your issues, not just the personality.”

I arched a brow. “Oh, this should be good.”

It was just a little insulting to have all these people pointing out my flaws like I was damaged goods. If I was an insecure man, I might have taken offense. But as it was, I could only be intrigued by what Mary thought could polish my tarnished reputation with a single stroke.

“You need to settle down,” she said simply.

The room went dead silent.

“Settle down?” I repeated, leaning back in my chair. “Mary, I’m not a child acting up. What exactly do you mean settle down? Because I know you aren’t suggesting I behave myself.”

“Actually, yes,” Mary said. “That is what I’m suggesting. You need to settle down and act like a grown man. Do what grown men do.”

“Like, buy a house in the suburbs and get a dog?” I scoffed.

“No, Roman.” I saw the stern look. It was like getting reprimanded by my grandmother. “You need to find a woman. Someone grounded, approachable, kind. Someone who can balance you out.”

I laughed, a deep, genuine laugh that echoed off the walls. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But when I looked around, I realized she wasn’t. None of them were. Their expressions were somber, like they were talking about the details of a funeral.

“You’re serious?” I asked, incredulous.