Page 51 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

“Well, you can’t have me,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m not yours.”

I stood there, frozen, as her words echoed through the foyer. What the fuck?

No one ever spoke to me that way. And even if they did, I wouldn’t care. So why the hell did it piss me off so much? She was just the woman I was paying to pretend to be my fiancée. I should not care what she thought about me. I shouldn’t care that she didn’t want me. There were a thousand other willing women that would crawl into my bed.

I stormed into the study, my chest heaving up and down. I rarely allowed myself to lose control, but I felt my hold on it slipping away. It was shredding and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I grabbed a vase off the table and threw it against the wall. Red-hot fury bubbled up inside me, demanding release. The vase shattered, pieces scattering across the floor. Not the smartest move for a barefoot man but I wasn’t thinking clearly.

I went for a book and threw it. A stack of papers went flying as I swiped them off the desk. The destruction felt good, liberating even, but it did nothing to really make me feel better. I kicked a chair and then punched it, splintering the wood. My rampage spun out of control. I didn’t stop until the room was in disarray, until every ounce of rage had been spent.

Then came the shame.

I stood there in the wreckage, breathing heavily, my hands shaking. I could hear the sound of footsteps in the hallway—the cleaning staff, no doubt, already on their way to tidy up the trail of damage I had caused.

They would reset everything. By morning, it would be as if nothing had happened.

But the mess wasn’t just in the room. It was in me.

I went back to the foyer and caught a glimpse of one of the housekeepers hurrying away. With the rage fading, I was suddenly very aware of my state of undress. I stormed up to my bedroom and slammed the door hard enough to make the wall shake.

Kaira’s words replayed in my mind on a loop.

I’m not yours.

The conviction in her voice stung, getting right through the gaps in my armor.

There’s nothing about me a man like you could possibly find attractive.

How could she believe that? How could she not see how magnetic she was, how her fire and passion drew me in like nothing else ever had?

But maybe she was right about one thing: I’d been using her. Maybe not intentionally, but I had. She’d been a solution to my problem, a way to fix my image and distract from the chaos in my life. I had convinced myself it was harmless—that she’d benefit from this arrangement as much as I would. I had seen her as just another commodity. And wasn’t she right? Hadn’t I thought I could just buy her compliance and affection because I could afford to?

Why did Kaira’s words matter so much to me? Was it just because I wasn’t used to being denied? No, there was something else, something deeper that her defiance stirred in me. It wasn’t about ownership or control. It wasn’t frustration born out of rejection or unmet desires. It was shame, mixed with a raw vulnerability.

My mother’s face flashed in my mind, unbidden.

“What would she think of me now?” I muttered under my breath.

She’d raised me to be better than this. To treat people with respect, to work hard, to earn everything I had. She’d been my compass, even in death. Everything I had done—every deal I closed, every business I had built—had been for her.

And now?

Now it felt like the carefully constructed life I’d built was in danger of unraveling, one loose thread at a time. I hadn’t felt true emotional pain in years. The world I operated in didn’t allow for such weaknesses. Emotions were liabilities, best managed or entirely avoided. But here I was, pacing the length of my bedroom, wrestling with thoughts I had long buried.

Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long while, someone hadn’t backed down from telling me the truth about myself.

19

KAIRA

The next morning, I woke to the sound of a vacuum. It took me a second to remember where I was. I stretched my arms wide and stared up at the ceiling of my new room. The massive bed was beyond comfortable. I felt like I was being cradled in a cloud.

Despite the opulence surrounding me, there was a heaviness in my heart that even the plush comfort couldn’t erase. Last night’s confrontation with him had left me shaken. I said things I wasn’t sure I should have. Was I too harsh? Did I cross a line? Was he going to tear up the contract and send me packing?

I wouldn’t blame him. In fact, that might be the best thing for both of us. My rent wouldn’t get paid but my heart wouldn’t get twisted into knots either.

I sat up and wrapped the silky sheets around me, catching sight of myself in the ornate mirror across the room. The woman staring back seemed stronger than I felt—the same woman who had stood her ground against him. But under it all lay an undercurrent of fear and uncertainty. What would happen next? Could there be any coming back from what was said?