Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

Chapter 6

6

ROMAN

T he mood was ice cold as we stepped out of the restaurant. My driver pulled up almost immediately. I opened the door for her and watched as she climbed into the car. Kaira didn’t look at me. That was fine.

I wasn’t about to start a conversation. She hated my guts, and honestly, I wasn’t a fan of hers either. Sure, she had the kind of outside packaging that could turn heads—mine included—but the high morals and endless preaching? That was a hard pass. I didn’t need a mother to tell me when to say thank you. And I certainly didn’t need a date with Miss Manners. I was a grown man. I could do what I wanted. I could talk the way I wanted.

Didn’t she know who the hell I was?

The tension in the car was thick as the driver pulled away. I stared out the window, my jaw clenched so hard it was giving me a headache.

“Where are we going?” she asked with a sigh.

“I planned for a four-hour date, per the auction rules,” I said. My tone was flat. “We’re going to a museum. Nice and safe. No chance of romance.”

“Can you just take me home? Let’s skip the rest of the date. We don’t need to go to a museum. It’s not like I actually won the bid. You don’t want to do this any more than I do.”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “I’m paying over a hundred grand for this date, and you want to bail?” I turned to look at her. “Do I need to remind you I’m the one saving your ass?”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Fine. Whatever.”

Typical .

Why in the hell was I insisting she stay with me? I could go home and enjoy the rest of my evening. I could call up someone else. But something about this infuriating woman made me want to push her buttons even more. Maybe it was the way she stood up to me, or maybe it was just the challenge of it.

“We won’t go to the museum,” I said.

I gave the driver the next address. I knew it was only going to piss her off more. I didn’t care. She was stuck with me for a couple more hours. I didn’t think I was all that bad.

The nightclub was my kind of place—exclusive, swanky, the kind of spot where everyone knew my name and bent over backward to keep me happy. I didn’t have to ask for anything. They just knew.

The second we stepped out of the car, the doorman gave me a warm welcome. The people in line were already whispering and pointing. I saw the flashes from the pictures. Kaira looked up at me with shock and horror.

“I can’t go in there.”

“Sure, you can.”

“I’m not dressed for the club.”

“Get out of the car.” I left no room for argument.

She groaned and climbed out. I led her to the velvet rope and waited to be allowed in.

The doorman’s eyes fell on Kaira, his expression shifted.

“Mr. Kelly,” he said hesitantly. He looked stressed like he would prefer to be anywhere else. “I’m afraid your guest doesn’t meet the dress code.”

I looked down at her. Black pants, a plain shirt, and sensible flats. Not exactly nightclub material.

She shrank under the scrutiny, and for the first time all night, I felt something resembling guilt. I should’ve seen this coming. She told me she wasn’t dressed appropriately.

Yes, that was a dick move. Even I could see that.

Without a word, I took her hand and led her across the street to a diner.

“What are we doing?” she asked. “This is stupid. Just take me home.”

“No.” I pulled open the door and gestured for her to go inside. She sighed and walked in. I followed behind her and froze. I could honestly say I had never been in such a place.

She looked around as if she belonged, like she was finally comfortable for the first time since she and I met. I, on the other hand, felt like a fish out of water. The place was clean but simple—chrome stools, laminated menus, the smell of fresh coffee and grease hanging in the air.

It was all very kitsch.

We slid onto two stools at the counter. I tried to hide my discomfort as my eyes took in the sight. Kaira turned over a white mug.

“Why did you do that?” I asked.

“If you want coffee, turn over the cup.”

I hesitated but flipped my cup as well, signaling to the waitress bustling about that we were ready for service. She came over with a smile, pouring out steaming coffee into our cups without asking.

“You planning on ordering food, or just here for the coffee?” she asked, tucking her order pad into her apron.

“Food. I think.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to eat but I was curious what they offered.

The waitress handed us each a menu.

“Be back in a few,” the waitress said and hurried away.

“This better?” I asked, watching her as she scanned the menu.

“Much,” she said with a small smile.

The sight of that smile caught me off guard. She looked different here. Comfortable. Natural. She had been very nervous and uncomfortable most of the night. But here, she looked like she could finally breathe.

“I’m not hungry,” I said. “I happened to like my meal.”

“No one’s forcing you.”

“What are you going to order?”

“Apple pie. A la mode.”

“A la what?”

“Ice cream on the side. It’s one of my favorite late-night treats. Coffee and ice cream.”

I had no idea but when in Rome.

Kaira ordered and I asked for the same. The waitress walked away and returned a few minutes later. I tried not to look put off by the simple serving of pie on a plate with a scoop of ice cream.

The coffee tasted like burnt tar, but whatever. I could prove I wasn’t a snob. I could eat regular people food. My personal physician was on-call twenty-four seven. I took a bite and was pleasantly surprised.

It reminded me of a custard with poached pears I had in Paris. She and I weren’t so different.

I decided to try and make conversation. “So, Kaira, what do you do when you’re not sneezing your way into six-figure auctions?”

She stiffened but didn’t look up. “We don’t have to do this.”

“What? Sit here in seething silence? I was trying to move past it.”

“It’s fine, alright? We don’t have to pretend to like each other. Or care. After tonight, you go back to your life, and I go back to mine. Order restored. Let’s just have some quiet pie together. Eat up. Diner pie is good for the immune system.”

Her words caught me off guard. Not the part about the pie. I fully expected it to turn on me, despite how good it tasted. It was the other part.

Most people fell over themselves to make a connection with me, to stay on my radar, to insert themselves into my life. But Kaira? She acted like she hated me, clearly wanting nothing to do with me.

It was a very odd feeling, rejection. It got under my skin like itching powder, which was ridiculous. She was no one to me, a minor detour in life’s long journey.

And yet… I couldn’t help but like it.

She’d stood up to me. She’d called me out. She didn’t care about my name, my money, or the power I held. Even my most charming smile couldn’t win her over, and I had been on several magazine covers where it was featured prominently.

Kaira had spoken up because her values mattered more to her than I did. She didn’t care if I liked her or not. She had an opinion, and she wasn’t afraid to share it.

That was rare. And, to my surprise, I respected it. I also respected her request for quiet pie. We finished in silence. Whatever it did to my guts, the pie was worth it. Lost in a sugar daze, when the waitress brought the check, Kaira grabbed it before I could.

“Are you out of your mind?” I asked. “I’ll buy the pie.”

“No, it’s the least I can do,” she said, dropping a twenty on the table.

I stared at the bill, then at her. “Cash?”

She shrugged. “Some of us don’t carry black cards.”

I almost laughed at the comment. Almost. Instead, I said, “Thank you for the dessert.”

She said nothing but I thought I caught the edge of a smile as we walked back to the car. She climbed in and gave the driver her address without asking me if we were finished for the night. Technically, we still had some time left on our date but I didn’t think it was a good idea to push the issue.

The night was far past its peak. We both had enough. As we pulled up to her building—a modest rental in LA—I couldn’t help but feel underwhelmed.

I climbed out and walked her to the front door. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m walking you to your door.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“But I’m doing it anyway.”

She stopped at the entrance of the building. “This is good.”

“You don’t want me to know where you live?”

“Hell no.”

Not just no but hell no. Ouch. I nodded, having to respect that. But it didn’t mean I was ready to let her go.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said stiffly. “I’m glad it’s over and you didn’t suffer so horrendously.”

Her words were sharp, but her cheeks were pink, her arms crossed protectively over her chest.

As she reached for the door, I stopped her. “You owe me, you know.”

She froze, then turned to glare at me. “Why?”

“One hundred and ten thousand dollars. That’s why.”

Her face turned red as she sputtered for a response.

Before she could say anything, I leaned in closer, dropping my voice to a low rumble. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll find a way to collect.”

She let out a frustrated huff, yanked the door open, and disappeared inside without another word.

“I fully intend to cash in, Kaira!”

The door shut, and I found myself standing there with a stupid grin on my face.

I had dodged a bullet tonight. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that Kaira might not be out of my life for good. There was just something about her I couldn’t simply walk away from. In the back of my mind, I knew I should. The last thing I needed to do was chase after a woman who hated me.

I got back into the car and shut the door. “Home,” I said, slumping into the seat.

Kaira’s indifference was like a breath of fresh air in a life otherwise filled with sycophants and yes-men. It was unsettling but intriguing. As much as I tried to dismiss her from my thoughts, curiosity gnawed at me. What made her hate me so much? What had shaped her into the fiercely independent creature that sat across from me earlier, scoffing at my attempts at civility?

By the time the car pulled up in front of my building, a plan was already forming in my mind. I needed to see her again.

Just let it go, Roman.

But I knew me. I knew the way I worked. I never just let anything go.