Page 38 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

I slid onto a stool and slumped over the bar. “I’ll tell you if you get me a soda.”

She smiled. “Going right for the hard stuff?”

“I need caffeine but no booze. My brain is fried enough as it is.”

She poured me a Coke with extra ice and set it in front of me, leaning on the bar with an expectant expression. “Spill. What fried your brain? Not meth, right?”

I barked out a laugh. “No, Carla, I didn’t do meth for the first time today. I’m not breaking bad.”

I told her everything—about the ridiculous proposal, the stunning mansion, the library, the room that was too perfect to believe. I even told her about the kiss, though I skimmed over how much it had affected me.

Carla’s jaw dropped. “You kissed him?”

“He kissed me,” I corrected, my cheeks burning. “And it was a mistake. A huge, stupid mistake. Talk about complicating our business arrangement.”

“But you’re doing it, right? The whole fake fiancée thing?”

I hesitated, taking a long sip of my soda. “I think I have to. It’s a lot of money.”

“Not just for the money, although that’s a huge perk,” Carla said. “You deserve six months of luxury, seeing how the one percent lives. And think of it as a writing retreat! You could finally finish that book you’ve been talking about.”

I laughed weakly. “I don’t know if I can write while dealing with Roman Kelly every day.”

“You can handle him,” she said confidently. “As long as you keep it in your pants. If you catch feelings for this guy, you’re setting yourself up for heartache.”

“I’m not going to fall for him,” I said.

“And yet, you two are already locking lips and you haven’t even moved in yet.”

I shook my head. “A momentary lapse in judgment. Don’t worry. His personality will keep me from falling for him. I can assure you of that.”

“Maybe he’s not as bad as he seems,” Carla said.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, he’s probably worse,” she admitted, smirking. “But you’ll survive. And who knows? You might even enjoy it.”

I doubted that. But as I sipped my soda and listened to Carla ramble about all the ways I could take advantage of the situation, I couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the opportunity I needed to get my life on track.

“Think about the material you’ll gather for your book. All those eccentric rich folks? It’s gold!” She wiped down the bar, then leaned closer as if sharing a secret. “Plus, you’ll be living there. You can snoop around—legally. I bet he’s got a fancy toilet. The kind with buttons and a seat warmer.”

I chuckled, but her words stuck with me. It was true. Living in that mansion offered a rare window into a world I had never known and would never know again. It was a chance to observe the quirks and secrets of the wealthy. How they spoke, what they valued, their everyday dramas—it was a rare chance to experience it, and experience was what writers turn into stories.

“You’re right,” I conceded. “It’s an opportunity. I just have to keep my head clear.” My cheeks burned just thinking about that kiss. “He chose me because I’m disposable. When he tosses me to the curb in six months, his world won’t be affected since I’m not a part of it and I never will be.”

She shrugged. “Maybe so, but it’s not like you’re not getting something out of this.”

I sighed, playing with the condensation on my glass. “This is so weird, right? Like who hires a woman to pretend to be his fiancée? Especially when he could have any woman.”

Carla grinned. “The women who want him will also want to stick around after six months. With a business arrangement, things should be less complicated. In theory.”

I took another sip of my soda, the bubbles tickling my nose. “Still weird.”

“Hey, it’s not every day you get to play Cinderella.”

“Cinderella didn’t have to deal with paparazzi and social media, though,” I countered, feeling the weight of the public eye on my shoulders already.

Carla laughed. “True, but she did have to deal with a wicked stepmother and stepsisters. You just have to handle one wealthy businessman. How hard can it be?”