Page 84 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

“How did you two meet?” Marilyn asked.

Carla jumped in before Kaira could respond. “She needed a roommate and I was the lucky one to answer the ad.”

Carla launched into a story about how they met and their first week living together. “I was trying to make it as a photographer, and Kaira was writing whenever she could get a moment.”

There was something endearing about seeing their friendship—a mixture of fondness, respect, and genuine love. I had never had a friend like that. I was glad Kaira had her. I needed to do a better job welcoming Carla into the house over the next six months. I didn’t want to ruin that relationship because, when this was all over, Kaira would be moving back in with Carla. Life would go back to how it used to be.

I wasn’t sure I wanted it to, though.

31

KAIRA

Inoticed Roman’s gaze lingering on me during dinner, but I couldn’t quite read his expression. Was he impressed? Annoyed? Amused? I couldn’t tell. But he was participating, which was more than I expected.

After dinner, Carla gave me a look that said she was ready to head home. I walked her to the door, not wanting her to leave but knowing she had an early morning yoga class.

“Thanks for today,” she whispered, hugging me tightly. “I needed this.”

I hugged her back just as fiercely. “Call me anytime. Day or night. Just because we’re not under the same roof doesn’t mean I’m abandoning you. And I’ll be back in five and a half months.”

“I don’t know,” she said with a grin.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, he was looking at you like you were dessert.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think so. He was probably thinking about what he’s going to say to me once we’re alone—if we’re alone. He’s going to yell at me for monopolizing his kitchen and serving him a meal that is way too indulgent.”

“I think he can afford a few calories.”

I laughed. “He’s probably on his way to the gym downstairs as we speak.”

“Oh, a hot and sweaty Roman is very, very intriguing.”

I had to bite my lip. She had no idea how hot it was to see him go to town on a punching bag. Or between my legs. The thought made me blush.

I walked her to the car and waved as Anthony pulled out of the driveway to take her home. When she was out of sight, I went back inside and felt the shift in the air. The house was finally quiet. The staff had retreated to their quarters after I insisted they let me clean up my own mess. A few of them really tried to argue, but I insisted. I had to remind them I was currently the lady of the house.

I walked through the foyer and into the kitchen, which was still a mess. The night had been too perfect to end on a sour note of messy counters and piled dishes. I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.

The sound of footsteps startled me. I turned to see Roman leaning against the doorframe, his tie undone and his sleeves already halfway rolled up. He looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, and somehow even more intimidating for it.

“Can I help?” he asked.

“You don’t have to help,” I said, waving him off as he stepped into the kitchen. “I’ve got this.”

He ignored me, walking over to the sink and grabbing a dishtowel. “I want to.”

I blinked. Roman washing dishes? I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or take a picture for posterity. But the way he set his jaw told me this wasn’t up for debate.

“Okay,” I said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Why don’t you just use the dishwasher?”

I sighed at him. “Her name is Gloria and I gave her the night off.”

Roman’s eyes widened and he laughed. “No, I know who Gloria is. I meant the actual machine that washes dishes.”