Page 25 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

PORTIA

After lunch, I returned to Alexis’s shop with a lot to think about. My father’s words were still ringing in my ears. I couldn’t shake the mix of emotions they’d stirred up. On one hand, he’d been honest with me—brutally so. Selling real estate in a small town like Larkspur Lake wasn’t easy. There wasn’t much turnover, and the market was competitive. But on the other hand, he’d seemed so excited, so proud of me for even considering it.

When I was younger, he used to always talk about us going into business together. I was the one that balked at the idea. My naivety and need to carve my own path had led me to New York. At the time, my dad had encouraged me to go for it. He was being a supportive father, but I was pretty sure he knew exactly how things were going to turn out.

But now that I was back, it was like he believed in me more than I believed in myself. I almost felt like I had to try, if only to prove to him I wasn’t a complete failure. Or to prove it to myself.

Alexis was at the counter when I walked in, sorting through a stack of fabric swatches.

“How’d it go?” she asked, setting the swatches aside.

I sighed, dropping my bag onto the counter. “Good. It’s nice to be around them again.”

Alexis tilted her head, studying me. “But?”

I hesitated, then shrugged. “But I don’t know. It’s like they’re happy I’m back, but at the same time, they’re treating me with kid gloves. Like they’re waiting for me to fall apart or something.”

“They’re your parents, Portia,” she said gently. “They’re probably just worried about you. You went through a lot in New York.”

“I know, I know,” I replied. “But I don’t want to be coddled. I want to move on. I want to prove that I can still make something of myself. I just don’t know what that is.”

Alexis smiled. “You will. You’re already on the right track. Did you tell your dad you’re thinking about trying the real estate thing here?”

“Yep.”

“And?”

“He of course wants to be my mentor, work together and stuff.”

Alexis raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I don’t know,” I admitted with a sigh.

“You think it’s not the same thing as doing it all on your own?”

“Kind of. I feel like I’m eighteen again. Like I lost all that I worked for. I’m right back to square one.”

“Not square one,” she corrected. “You have experience. In life and real estate.”

“I mean, it’s one thing to say I want to try. It’s another thing to actually do it. What if I fail again?”

Alexis tilted her head to the side, studying me. “What if you don’t?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, the bell above the door jingled again. I turned, expecting to see a customer, but instead, I found myself face-to-face with an old family friend—someone I hadn’t seen in years.

“Portia,” he said, his voice warm but with a hint of something I couldn’t quite place. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mr. Harper,” I said, forcing a polite smile. “What brings you here?”

He stepped further into the shop, his hands clasped behind his back. He didn’t look like he was in the shop for hemming or any other tailor needs. Something felt off.

He looked at Alexis and smiled and then looked back at me. “I heard you were back in town, and I wanted to reach out. Your father’s been a good friend to me over the years, and I thought… well, I thought I’d see if you were interested in a job.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “A job?”

He nodded. “At my real estate brokerage. We’re looking for a receptionist, and I thought it might be a good fit for you. Something to keep you occupied while you figure things out.”

I clenched my jaw, my stomach twisting. A receptionist job. At his brokerage. It was everything I didn’t want—a safe, predictable position. It was pity, dressed up as an opportunity. I wasn’t a receptionist. I was a realtor. It was insulting. Even if it was meant to be kind.