Page 102 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

PORTIA

I woke up early. I didn’t think I actually slept. Last night had been strange. Usually, I would hang out at Dean’s place or he would be here. But last night, he practically fell off the face of the earth. I texted him and asked if he wanted to come over for dinner. He told me he was busy.

Busy?

I knew he wasn’t. I couldn’t deny I had been a little jealous. He rolled up close to midnight and didn’t even bother texting me goodnight. It was hard not to think he might be out with someone else. But that was my own insecurity. Dean was a womanizer, but when he told me we were together, I believed him.

I rolled out of bed, the sheets tangled around my legs, and stared at the ceiling. My mind kept circling back to Dean’s abrupt exit last night. He’d kissed me, sure, but it felt off. Distant. Like he was already halfway out the door before his lips even touched mine. I sat up, running a hand through my messy hair, trying to shake the weird feeling that had settled in my chest.

Maybe it wasn’t about me. I knew he was stressed out about the Seth stuff. Maybe that was what had him withdrawing. I wouldn’t push. Not yet. Still, I couldn’t shake the look on Dean’s face when I told him about the call from San Francisco. He hadn’t said much, just nodded. And then he’d left in a hurry.

I walked into the kitchen and started the coffee pot and then headed into the bathroom. It wasn’t just Dean’s withdrawal that left me sleepless last night. It was the San Francisco thing. That job had been the dream. At least it had been the dream a few months ago. Now, it wasn’t as clear.

I took my phone and pulled up my email while filling my cup with coffee. There were a couple of inquiry requests from potential clients. Obviously, that made me smile. I sent Dean my usual good morning text and hopped in the shower.

When I got out of the shower, I checked my phone. There was no reply. He did get home late last night. He was probably asleep. I would check in with him later. I got into the office, turned on the lights, and settled in at my desk. I pulled up my email once again. And there was one that caught my attention. I clicked on it and read.

Partnership track.

Six-figure salary.

But that wasn’t what had me shell-shocked. They wanted me in San Francisco in two weeks.

Two weeks.

My pulse thundered in my ears. This was everything I’d worked for in New York. Everything I’d thought I wanted. So why did my chest feel like it was caving in?

I looked away from the screen, my eyes darting around the space. The walls of my office—my beautiful, hard-won office—suddenly felt too small. Like I was being shoved inside a box. Or one of those rooms that the walls moved in until they crushed a person.

I pushed back from the desk so fast my chair rolled into the bookshelf behind me and toppled one of the statues. I needed air. I needed to think. More than that, I needed Alexis. She was the voice of reason. The one I knew would snap me out of the panic I found myself spiraling toward.

I grabbed my purse and was out the door before I could talk myself out of it. This was why it was so convenient to have her a few doors away. A small town meant everyone was a few doors away. That fact could go in the plus or negative category. I wasn’t sure where I was putting it just yet. Alexis would know.

I pushed open the door with a little more force than necessary. Alexis looked up from her sewing machine with a startled expression.

“Okay, that’s a face,” she said. “What happened?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I quickly pulled up the email on my phone and wordlessly handed it to her.

Alexis scanned the email, her eyebrows climbing higher with each line. When she finished, she set the phone down carefully, as if it might explode. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“This is huge.”

“I know.”

She studied me, her head tilting. “So why do you look like you just got hit by a truck?”

I groaned, collapsing into one of her plush armchairs. The scent of lavender fabric softener wrapped around me as I dragged my hands through my hair. “I don’t know.”

Alexis leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Yeah, you do.”

The truth sat heavy on my tongue. This offer was everything my ambitious New York self had dreamed of. But that woman felt like a stranger now. I wasn’t the same Portia that lived in New York. I didn’t talk like that person or dress like her. That version of me felt like it was in my distant past—not a few months ago.

“I’m so confused,” I groaned. “This is the best-case scenario.”

I sank deeper into the chair, staring at the ceiling. Alexis waited patiently, her sewing machine silent now, her full attention on me. I sighed, knowing she wouldn’t let me off the hook until I spilled everything.