Page 56 of Valentine’s Billionaire Auction

With that, he turned and walked out of the room.

Carla let out a low whistle. “Damn. He’s intense.”

I sighed, sinking back onto the sofa. “I told you so.”

20

ROMAN

The moment I walked into the house, I knew something was off.

I couldn’t put my finger on it right away, but the air felt different. Warmer, somehow. Livelier. Voices and laughter drifted down the hall, a stark contrast to the usual quiet that greeted me when I came home. Usually, one of my staff would be waiting to take my briefcase or offer me a drink.

I heard them talking in the kitchen, which seemed odd. But it wasn’t their voices that had me going down the other hall. It was Kaira. She was talking to someone, which confused me.

I paused at the doorway, watching the two of them reclined on the sofas with a tray of snacks between them, laughing about something. My staff, usually composed and efficient, were lounging in the room, enjoying drinks and food with smiles and even a chuckle or two.

It was like walking into someone else’s home.

When I finally stepped into the room, the staff jumped up and rushed out. I wasn’t thrilled about the intrusion, but I let it go. For now.

After being dismissed in my own home, I walked back to the foyer with the intention of going to my study when I noticed a couple garbage bags and boxes in the corner. What the hell?

It was like I walked into the wrong house. My staff had been put under some spell. I stared at the things and knew where they came from—Kaira, obviously.

I stared at the clutter, my irritation growing. This wasn’t acceptable. My home was a place of order, of structured calm, not this. I took a deep breath, trying to control the flare of anger. I couldn’t help but overhear more laughter coming from the sitting room. The sound grated against my nerves. It wasn’t that I despised joy or laughter; I just didn’t know what to do with it.

I walked to my study, not surprised to see it had all been put back to rights. I did feel a little guilty for the mess I left the staff to handle. It had been quite a bit worse than the mess in the foyer. I knew I was going to have to talk to Kaira at some point, but I wasn’t doing it in front of an audience.

After a couple of hours, I emerged from the study and noticed the clutter in the foyer was gone. I was informed dinner would be served in twenty minutes. I went upstairs to change before returning to the dining room, wondering if our guest would be joining us.

Kaira was already there, chatting with one of the staff. They were acting like they were best friends. When I entered the room, they stopped talking. The staff member, Jessica maybe, quickly poured me a glass of water before leaving the dining room.

Kaira looked at me but said nothing. Her friend must have left at some point, for which I was grateful.

Dinner was served. I noticed it again. The staff who served us seemed to share secret smiles and easy chatter with Kaira. She laughed, thanked them warmly, and even joked about the impeccable presentation of the dishes. They were charmed by her. Everyone was charmed by her.

Everyone except me at that moment.

I couldn’t pinpoint why it irritated me so much. Maybe it was the way she so effortlessly connected with people, how she made my staff—my staff—feel more at ease than I ever had. Or maybe it was the nagging sense that this was no longer my house. It was hers, somehow.

The thought burrowed into my chest like a thorn. I took another bite of the beef that I technically knew tasted great, but in my mood, it tasted like betrayal.

“I had some of my things brought over,” Kaira said, breaking the silence.

“I noticed.”

“I’ve taken the bags and boxes to my room.”

“Good. You could have had your buddies do it.”

“My buddies?”

I waved a hand. “My staff that you seem to have befriended.”

Kaira tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable for a moment before a soft smile played on her lips. “Roman, they’re not my buddies. They work here, yes, but they are people too. Friendly conversation doesn’t cost anything.”

“I’m aware,” I replied curtly. “But this is my home, not a social club.”