Page 40 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

It wasn’t vanity; it was survival.

The treadmill hummed beneath my feet. I settled into a steady jog. The thoughts began to pour back in, but this time they were more controlled, less chaotic.

I thought about Kaira living under the same roof. She had fire, that much was undeniable. Maybe it was that fire that drew me to her, made me believe she could be the key to changing public perception of me.

Kaira didn’t mince words, didn’t smile just because it was expected of her, and certainly didn’t play nice for the sake of appearances. She was real. That would go a long way toward getting the public to see me differently.

A plan began to form in my mind as I jogged. By the time I was cooling down, stretching my limbs, the outline was clear. I needed to approach this delicately. Any misstep with Kaira could send this whole house of cards tumbling down.

I grabbed a towel and headed upstairs to get in the shower. The water was almost scalding, the steam filling the room in seconds. I leaned my head against the cool tile, letting the spray beat against my back.

Kaira’s face swam to the forefront of my mind. The way she’d looked at me when I’d shown her the library—a mix of wonder and disbelief. She’d been trying so hard not to let me see how overwhelmed she was, but I saw it.

I shouldn’t have kissed her. I knew that even as I leaned in. It had been reckless, impulsive—a moment of weakness I couldn’t afford to repeat. But even after my exhausting workout, the memory of her lips was burned into my mind. Soft, hesitant, and then hungry. Like she’d been as surprised by her reaction as I was.

I reached for the shower gel and started to wash. I ran my hand down my stomach, and before I knew it, my hand was wrapping around my cock.

I couldn’t focus on anything but her. Every touch, every caress I imagined was her touching me. And God, it felt good.

I tugged harder, the fantasy of her fingers doing the work instead of my own propelling me toward the edge. The suds from the shower gel provided just the right amount of slick as my grip tightened. I closed my eyes, letting her image consume me—the curve of her smile, the challenge in her eyes, her fiery spirit manifesting in every fantasy touch.

My breath came out in ragged gasps, the sound of the shower drowning out everything else. I let out a groan as the pleasure grew more intense. My cock throbbed in my hand as the climax built, until I could barely stand it.

With a final thrust against my own hand, I released, my knees nearly buckling under me from the intensity. I braced myself against the wall, water cascading down as I caught my breath.

I rinsed off, hoping to feel better, but I only wanted her more. Even though it wasn’t her hand on me, in my mind, it had been. I was able to very easily imagine what it would feel like to sink into her wet heat.

I shut the water off abruptly, the silence in the bathroom deafening. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I stepped out, catching my reflection in the mirror. My expression was unreadable, my eyes darker than usual.

“Get it together,” I muttered to myself.

I didn’t need complications. What I needed was a clear head and a plan to salvage the disaster this week had turned into. Kaira was a strategic move. Nothing more.

But even as I told myself that, I couldn’t shake the memory of the way she’d felt in my arms. Like she belonged there. Like maybe, for the first time in years, I wasn’t completely alone.

I turned away from the mirror and headed into the bedroom. Monday couldn’t come soon enough.

15

KAIRA

Iopened my eyes and stared at my ceiling. It was Monday. I didn’t want to move. It was confusing. I was excited and terrified, plus a little sad. Last night, Carla and I had spent our last night together enjoying pizza and splitting a bottle of wine.

I was going to miss hanging out with her. I knew I would still see her, but with me in the Pacific Palisades and her working two jobs, it was going to be hard to catch up as often. We weren’t going to have wine and pizza nights in our jammies.

When I agreed to accept Roman’s offer, I didn’t really think about what it would mean for me. I was leaving my life behind to step into his.

The thought left a knot in my stomach that even the morning sunshine couldn’t unravel. Yet, despite the anxiety, a part of me thrummed with anticipation. This was a unique opportunity—stepping into Roman’s world could open doors I’d never even dared dream of before.

Dragging myself out of bed, I walked to the kitchen to make myself some coffee. There was a note from Carla wishing me good luck and promising to text me all the time.

Blinking back tears, I took my cup of coffee and left it on the counter to cool while I showered. The board wanted to meet me today. I didn’t really know what that meant, but I wanted to look nice. And normal. Roman made it clear I was the grounding force in this fake engagement.

I packed a small suitcase with my things. Roman said he would provide a wardrobe, but some things I preferred to take with me, like underwear and comfy lounging clothes. Hopefully, he wouldn’t object to my peasant rags when we were just at his house, alone.

There was so much about this arrangement I didn’t know. I was jumping into dark waters with no idea what waited below the surface, but I had no choice but to keep myself afloat, come what may.

I pulled on a pair of jeans and a lightweight sweater, then did my hair and makeup and pulled on my favorite boots with the heel that gave me a little extra confidence. If I was going to be standing next to Roman’s giant ass, I didn’t want to look like a helpless child.