Page 8 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

I tried to slink away. All my life I felt like people didn’t see me. The one time I wanted to be invisible and it wasn’t working.

The other two billionaires were already being whisked away by their winning bidders, women who looked like they’d stepped out of a fashion magazine. The lights dimmed slightly as music began to play, signaling the start of the evening’s first dance. The crowd began to disperse, couples moving toward the dance floor.

And then I saw him.

Roman Kelly was stomping toward me like a dark shadow, his towering frame moving with purpose. He was coming straight for me.

My throat dried up as he stopped in front of me, his hazel eyes locking onto mine. The sheer size of him made me feel impossibly small, like a mouse caught under the gaze of a hawk.

He extended his hand, his expression unreadable.

“We’re leaving,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine.

“What?” I stammered, shaking my head vigorously. “No. No, I—I didn’t bid! It was a mistake! I sneezed! I have to tell them what happened. I can’t pay for you!”

“Now,” he said, ignoring my protests entirely.

Before I could say another word, his large hand closed over mine, his grip firm but not painful. He turned, guiding me through the crowd with an authority that left no room for argument.

I stumbled along behind him, my heart hammering in my chest. What had I just gotten myself into?

4

ROMAN

Well, that could not have gone worse.

She wasn’t even supposed to bid. She wasn’t supposed to sneeze, either, but here we were. The naïve event staffer had just cost herself money she clearly didn’t have. Now I was going to be on the hook to cover her ass. I had already given three hundred thousand.

Fuck it. What’s another hundred grand for charity? For someone like me, it was pocket change.

I led her out the back before anyone caught on to the absurd mistake. She hustled to keep up with my long strides, her smaller frame practically jogging as I navigated the maze of hallways that only I knew about because, well, I owned the damn place. Her shirt and pants clung awkwardly to her curves. I wondered if the bland, ill-fitting uniform was the company’s idea or hers. We passed through a hallway with a poster covered in red and pink hearts taped to the wall. I caught a glimpse of the words announcing a staff Valentine’s party.

“I need to go back,” she said, her voice tight with panic. “I need to explain to them that this was a mistake. They need to auction you off again.”

I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. “That’s not happening. I’m not going through that bullshit again. Fuck that.”

“Why not? It’s the only way to fix this!” she argued, sounding frantic. “We’ll default to the last bidder. I have a feeling she would be willing to pay double to have you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Kaira protested. “Some lady was wearing all these feathers. When she brushed by me, I was swarmed by the damn things. It’s her fault I sneezed. We have to go back. Why won’t you let me fix this?”

“Because you’re the lesser of all evils in that room. Trust me, I’d rather cover your bid than end up spending the night with one of those desperate, single socialite women who’ve been circling me like hyenas.”

She yanked her hand out of mine, forcing me to stop and turn to face her. Her face was flushed with determination, her brown eyes sparking with defiance. She had looked all sweet and meek, but I was seeing another layer of her. In a crisis, our true selves came out, the inner core we keep hidden from the world. It was like I was seeing her for the first time.

Her warm eyes had real fire behind them now, from a glow to a blaze. Her pouty lips and full face gave her a cherubic appearance but I saw the steel beneath all her softness. She wasn’t angry, just passionate.

Nice to meet you, Kaira.

“You’re not paying for my mistake,” she said with a little shake of her head. “Just let me go fix it. I can clean up my own messes.”

I leaned against the wall and eyed her more closely. Most people came to me with their hands out, trying to get something from me. Here I was, offering her a lifeline and she wanted nothing to do with it.

“There’s no mess to clean up.”

“Oh yeah there is,” she replied.