Page 57 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

Her smile faded and she looked down at her plate, her fork playing idly with the food. “I understand this is what you’re used to. However, loosening up a bit wouldn’t hurt. They seem happier.”

“Happier doesn’t necessarily mean more productive,” I countered.

She shook her head and went back to her meal.

By the time dinner was over, I had enough.

“Can you get the staff in here?” I demanded of Jessica.

“Yes, sir.”

They filed into the dining room.

“Your work today was less than impressive,” I said curtly. “I will not tolerate mediocrity and inefficiency.”

The atmosphere shifted immediately. Kaira’s smile faded, replaced by a look of confusion and maybe a touch of disappointment. And anger.

“Don’t let it happen again.” I stood and tossed my napkin on my plate. I didn’t stay to explain myself. I headed back upstairs to change into my workout clothes. I needed to get rid of the frustration without trashing my house.

The gym was my refuge.

I went for the punching bag again. I wrapped my hands and started throwing jabs at the heavy bag. My mind replayed the scene over and over. The looks on their faces—the mixed expressions of surprise and hurt, the sudden drop of morale. I punched harder, each blow a futile attempt to shut out the guilt gnawing at me.

Kaira had been right; they were people, not just cogs in my meticulously maintained machine. But acknowledging that felt like loosening a grip I wasn’t sure I was ready to release. The sound of my fists against the bag was the best music I’d ever heard.

I finished with the bag and moved to the weights, letting the familiar rhythm of lifting and lowering distract me from the storm brewing in my mind. The clink of the dumbbells and the rush of blood in my ears were grounding, a stark contrast to the chaos I had been feeling.

“Did you have a bad day?” Kaira’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. I lowered the weights and turned to see her leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her ample chest.

“No,” I said, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from my face. “It was fine until I came home to find you getting chummy with my staff.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Chummy? Seriously?”

“They’re employees, Kaira. Not friends or family. They have work to do, and you can’t be distracting them.”

She rolled her eyes. “They’re people, not furniture.”

“What?” I snapped.

“You’d rather your staff spend their time shining your already shiny marble floors again instead of letting them enjoy themselves for half an hour?” she asked, her voice dripping with disbelief. “This place is cleaner than a hospital. It’s not like they were sitting around watching soap operas. Do you want them to clean what’s already clean?”

“Yes,” I said automatically. “That’s what I pay them to do.”

Her jaw dropped, and for a moment, I thought I had finally managed to silence her. But then her eyes narrowed, and I saw the anger flash in them. She took a step closer, fists clenched at her sides.

“I don’t understand you,” she said, her tone low and biting.

“That makes two of us,” I shot back.

Her defiance only seemed to grow with each word I threw at her. Most people would have backed down by now, but not Kaira. Her determination was infuriating—and, annoyingly, a little admirable.

“You live in this beautiful house,” she said, gesturing around us, “but it feels like a tomb. Cold, lifeless. Your staff are good people. They deserve to enjoy their work, Roman. And if you can’t see that, then I don’t know how to help you. Spend five seconds getting to know them and you’ll have their loyalty forever.”

Her words hit harder than I cared to admit.

“This is my house,” I said, my voice hard. “I don’t need their loyalty. I pay them. They signed NDAs. Period.”

She met my gaze head on, her eyes blazing. “And you’re the one making it miserable.”