Page 41 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

My makeup and toiletries went into my suitcase and I looked around my room, wondering if I was forgetting anything. I grabbed the photo of me and my parents and added it to the suitcase as well.

I checked the time. Roman had texted me and told me he would be sending Anthony to pick me up at ten. I had thirty minutes. I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and paced. I grabbed a notebook and quickly wrote Carla a note.

I told her how much she meant to me, that it wouldn’t be the same without our impromptu dancing in the living room or our late-night confessions over margaritas and chips and queso. I folded the note and left it on the kitchen counter where she’d surely see it.

The door buzzer cut through my thoughts. It was ten o’clock. Showtime. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and grabbed my suitcase and purse. Anthony was waiting for me downstairs.

“Are you ready?” he asked with a smile.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” I said with a nervous laugh.

Anthony’s smile widened with understanding. “Well, I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. Let me get your bags. No arguments.”

I let him take my things and he led me to the sleek black car parked outside. It was different than the last car he’d picked me up in. I wondered how many vehicles Roman had. Probably a whole fleet.

The ride was silent except for the hum of the engine and the occasional blip of traffic noise. Anthony seemed to sense I wasn’t in the mood for small talk. My stomach was a ball of nerves, twisting tighter with every mile closer to downtown.

When the car pulled up to the high-rise, I couldn’t help but gape. The building gleamed under the morning sun, all glass and steel. A beacon of wealth and power. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course, this would be the place where Roman worked. Just like his big house, the office building was a statement.

Anthony opened the door for me, offering a reassuring smile as I stepped out.

“You’ll do fine,” he said quietly, as though sensing my hesitation.

“Thanks,” I murmured, though I didn’t believe him. “I just wish I knew what I was supposed to actually do up there.”

“Just go in with your head held high. The rest will fall into place.”

“Thank you, Anthony.”

I noticed some people milling about, chatting with each other and loitering in general. I didn’t pay them much attention and pulled open the door to go in.

Inside, the lobby was just as grand as the outside. Marble floors, towering ceilings, and a chandelier that looked like it belonged in a museum. I walked to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor.

Roman had given me instructions on what to do when I arrived. A gentleman would have met me in the lobby. But Roman Kelly was not a gentleman.

I knew that and I was still going through with this ridiculous agreement.

The elevator ride felt like an eternity. My reflection stared back at me from the polished walls, and I couldn’t help but second-guess every detail of my appearance. Was my sweater too plain? Not plain enough? My makeup too minimal? Too much? Would they laugh me right out of the office before I even said a word?

I had done a little research and saw some of the women Roman had been photographed with. I was not even a little like them. They were all tall with legs to their ears and beautiful. Like really, really beautiful.

When the doors slid open, I stepped into Roman’s world. His office was as extravagant as I had expected.

A pretty young woman sat behind a tall reception desk wearing a headset.

“Welcome to Kelly Industries. Do you have an appointment?”

“I’m here to see Roman. Roman Kelly.”

“Ms. Foster, of course. He told me to take you to his office. Follow me.”

I followed her through a maze of cubicles in the center of the room and doors along the perimeter. She opened a door and let me inside a massive office.

“He’ll be right with you,” she said and quickly walked away.

I was in a room with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Los Angeles, modern furniture that looked more like art than anything functional, and an atmosphere that screamed power.

“You’re right on time,” Roman said from behind me.