Page 83 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

Kaira was at the center of it all, her cheeks flushed, her hair slightly messy, and a smear of something suspiciously cheesy on her wrist. She was laughing at something Carla said, her voice rising above the low hum of conversation and the faint beat of a pop song playing in the background.

The rest of the staff froze the moment they saw me, the laughter dying as if someone had hit pause. Carla turned, her expression shifting from carefree to cautious. Even the music seemed to dull.

Only Kaira remained unaffected. She turned, her bright eyes landing on me, and smiled like she hadn’t just disrupted the entire dynamic of the household.

“Roman!” she called, weaving through the now-stiffened group toward me. Before I could say a word, she grabbed my hand and tugged me further into the chaos. “You have to try this.”

She led me to a baking dish that had just come out of the oven. The golden, bubbling surface looked almost too indulgent, the edges crisped to perfection. A fine crust on the top was perfectly golden.

I raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Mac and cheese,” she said proudly, scooping a steaming spoonful. She blew on it lightly before holding it up to my lips. “It’s good. I promise. Go on, try it.”

I stared at her for a moment, surprised by her audacity. Everyone else in the room stayed still as statues, watching us like it was a scene from a soap opera. This was not something I did. Well, many somethings. A woman didn’t feed me. I didn’t eat straight from a dish.

But Kaira had a way of disarming people. She marched to the beat of her own drum. I was just the guy she was dragging along in her little parade. And honestly, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. With a sigh, I leaned forward and took the bite.

It was divine. The sharpness of the cheese, the buttery breadcrumbs, the perfect amount of salt—it was comfort food elevated to an art form. A couple pieces of crunchy bacon completed the dish, making it perfect. It was indulgent and basic and nothing like I had ever eaten before. I had literally grown up with a silver spoon in my mouth. I didn’t eat macaroni and cheese often.

I swallowed, meeting her expectant gaze. “It’s… acceptable.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, Roman. You love it.”

I allowed the corner of my mouth to twitch upward in the barest hint of a smile. “It’s not bad.”

That seemed to please her enough. She grinned, handing me a spoon. “Great. Then you can help.”

I stared at her, genuinely surprised. “You want me to cook?”

“You’re not exempt just because you wear fancy suits,” she teased, shoving a bowl of lettuce toward me. “Now, mix.”

I shrugged off my suit jacket, rolled up my sleeves, and did as I was told. It felt strange at first, stepping into the chaos instead of controlling it. But the longer I stayed, the more natural it felt.

The staff began to relax as Kaira coaxed them back into their previous moods before I stepped into the room.

By the time we sat down to eat, the dining-room table was transformed into a feast. Plates of mac and cheese, a fresh green salad, which I helped prepare, and fresh bread were passed around. The table was filled with the house staff. That had never happened before.

I couldn’t stop watching Kaira as she interacted with everyone. She listened intently, laughed easily, and made every person at the table feel like they belonged. Some of the newer staff I had never exchanged more than a few words with. Others had been around me since I was a child. But I had honestly never sat and had a meal with any of them. It was strange, but in a good way. Kaira seemed very comfortable with the staff.

She reminded me of my mother in that way.

I remembered sitting at a table like this as a child, my mother holding court with her soft, commanding presence. Usually, it was her friends and not the staff. Although I could remember a few times I saw her sitting down to tea or dessert with Marilyn. My father used to watch her the way I was watching Kaira now, his eyes full of quiet admiration. I had always groaned, bored out of my mind, whenever my father waxed poetic about the beauty of the little moments. “One day, Roman, you’ll understand. The greatest treasures in life are in the quiet moments.”

Maybe today was that day.

I took a bite of the cheesy dish. It was good, but damn, was it rich. I was going to be spending some serious time in the gym to work this off.

“Do you like it?” Kaira asked. “Be honest this time.”

I glanced up, catching her watching me intently. The staff around us had fallen silent, waiting for my response as well.

“It’s excellent,” I said simply.

Her face lit up. The smile that spread across her face was so genuine, so unguarded, that it caught me off guard. For a moment, she wasn’t the carefully constructed fake fiancée, but just Kaira. A woman that made me feel things I had not felt in a long time. Some feelings I had never felt.

“We used to make this all the time back in our apartment,” she told the table, gesturing to Carla. “It was our comfort food. When we were broke, stressed, or just needed a pick-me-up, we’d make mac and cheese. It was our go-to meal.”

The staff listened as Carla told a few stories about their substitutions when they didn’t have money to buy cheese, including a version with canned cheese. Even I found myself leaning in, curious about her life before our paths crossed.