Page 73 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

I chuckled. “It’s better than okay.”

“I can’t believe you remembered it.”

“I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind.”

She seemed surprised by my confession.

“Shall we go?” I asked.

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

We headed out to the car where Anthony was waiting. The drive into the city was quiet but not unpleasant. Kaira seemed more at ease than usual, though I couldn’t quite tell if it was genuine or a performance. After the way I’d walked out on her, she had every right to be upset with me.

Then again, why would it have bothered her? She wasn’t falling for me the way I was for her. I couldn’t hurt her feelings if she didn’t have any.

When we arrived at the restaurant, the maître d’ greeted us with an overly enthusiastic smile, clearly recognizing me. I made the necessary introductions to a few friends already seated at our table, and Kaira stayed close to my side without me having to say a word.

Almost like she wanted to be there.

She charmed them easily, answering their questions with poise and laughing at their jokes as though she’d known them for years. For a moment, I let myself relax. I could almost believe this whole thing was real.

As the evening went on, I found myself watching her more than I should have, captivated by the way she carried herself. She was blending in better than I could have imagined.

With every passing second, I was falling harder for my fake fiancée.

27

KAIRA

The restaurant exuded luxury, from its shimmering chandeliers to the gold cutlery. It was a lot like the first one he’d taken me to. It was fancy and meant to impress. The staff were all well-trained and knew how to be invisible while keeping their customers fed with a steady supply of drinks. Roman’s friends, dressed in designer suits and dresses that could pay for a new car, sat around the table with an effortless charm. It was the kind of wealth I had only seen in movies or on magazine covers.

And now I was part of it—temporarily, at least. I was getting an up-close and personal view of how the one percent lived. I had been incredibly nervous but it wasn’t so bad.

The group was already deep in conversation when we arrived, but Roman’s hand on the small of my back kept me grounded. He introduced me as his fiancée, and I was met with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. They seemed more surprised by me than disgusted. In the back of my mind, I had worked myself up to think they were going to point and laugh the moment they laid eyes on me.

“So, you’re the mystery girl,” one of them said, a dark-haired man with a British accent and a smile that seemed too perfect to be real.

“Am I a mystery girl?” I replied with a smile.

“No one saw you coming.”

I smiled nervously, unsure how to respond. They weren’t what I expected. Not cold or dismissive like I feared. Instead, they welcomed me into their conversations. They didn’t leave me out or ignore my comments.

“I’ve got to know,” another chimed in, a stunning woman with sharp cheekbones and a laugh that turned heads from nearby tables. “How does someone keep Roman interested? The man is like a cat. Aloof, temperamental, and impossible to pin down. I know many women that have tried and failed.”

Just get him to sign a contract. I laughed awkwardly, hoping Roman didn’t hear. He was deep in conversation with another guest. He glanced over every now and then like he was checking on me, which I found to be very sweet. Or he was just making sure I didn’t sneeze my way into another crisis.

I found the woman’s question unnerving because I heard the question she wasn’t asking. Or my own insecurities were making me read more into it. She was wondering how a man like Roman managed to get captivated by a woman like me.

“Stop, Chloe,” another woman said. “Look at her. Do you really have to ask how she keeps him interested?”

I smiled, but again, I was reading between the lines.

The same woman turned her attention to me with a warm smile. “You are a scrumptious slice of pumpkin pie.”

She seemed genuine. I was going to give her the benefit of the doubt.