Page 89 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

PORTIA

I stood in front of the mirror, pulling my hair into a loose ponytail. Casual but polished—that was the goal. I wanted to look professional enough to sign the lease for my new office but not so formal that it felt like I was trying too hard. After all, this was small-town Larkspur Lake, not some high-rise in the city.

I slipped on a pair of dark jeans and a crisp white blouse, tucking it in just enough to look intentional. I was hoping to get right to work after I signed the paperwork.

My mind wandered to Dean. Dinner with my parents tomorrow night. That was big. Huge, actually. He’d never met them as my… boyfriend? Partner? Whatever label we were using these days. The thought made my stomach flutter in a way that was equal parts excitement and nerves. Dean wasn’t exactly the type to fit neatly into a family dinner setting. Hell, he barely fit into most social settings unless they involved motorcycles or beer.

But he was trying. That was what mattered, right?

My parents would be nice to him. They already proved they were open to the relationship. The night at the festival they had been very chill with him. But that was before his brother tried to blow up the festival. I knew they would have some hesitations. That was okay. Once they got to sit down and really talk with him in a quiet setting, they would see he wasn’t a gruff biker dude.

I grabbed my bag and headed out. I was still way early. My plan was to get some coffee, sign, and then get busy cleaning up the property. I drove into town and parked in an available spot that would make it easy to do all the things I needed to do without having to move the car over and over. I walked into the coffee shop. Locals and tourists alike were sitting around, sipping iced coffees and Americanos.

I made my way up to the front counter. I barely had time to place my coffee order before my phone started buzzing. It was a text from Alexis. She was supposed to be meeting me at the property later.

Sorry to distract you on lease-signing day, but you need to see this.

I sighed, tapping the link while the barista called out orders. The headline had my eyes bulging.

“Local Realtor Opens Independent Firm—Breaking Industry Expectations or Burning Bridges?”

“Seriously?” I muttered, scrolling through the article. Who was writing this crap? And more importantly, why was my career trajectory the most exciting thing happening in this town? I was seriously the most boring person in this area. If I sneezed, this woman would write about it. She’d sensationalize it. It would be front page news that I was spreading some horrific virus.

But in the grand scheme of things, this was for the best. I thought about Seth sitting in jail, Dean’s stress about tomorrow’s dinner, and decided maybe it was better the town’s self-appointed busybody stayed fixated on me. And like they said, there was no bad publicity. Lila was promoting my new business without me even asking.

The barista called my name. I reached for my coffee, turned, and nearly spilled it all over the man standing beside me. The brokerage owner I’d interviewed with.

We locked eyes. I inwardly groaned. My day had started out with such promise, and in the span of two minutes, it was going to shit.

“Well, well,” he said, crossing his arms. “I have to say, I didn’t expect you to go from asking for a job to becoming my competition.”

I took a slow sip of my coffee. He was trying to intimidate me. It wasn’t going to work. “I guess you could say our interview inspired me.”

His jaw twitched. “We sent you a job offer.”

“Yes, you did, and I politely declined. I appreciate the offer, really. But I’ve decided to go in a different direction.”

His lips curled into a thin smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Different direction? Or just desperate to prove something?”

The comment stung, but I kept my expression neutral. “I’m not here to prove anything. I’m here to build something of my own. That’s all.”

“You think you’re ready for this? Running a firm isn’t just about selling houses, Portia. It’s about connections, reputation—things you don’t have here anymore.”

I forced a smile, though my grip tightened around my coffee cup. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

I knew an attempt at intimidation. This man had no idea what he was dealing with. I worked in Manhattan. He was not going to intimidate me.

He straightened, shaking his head as if I were some naive kid who didn’t know better. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

“I look forward to you giving me some ‘simple’ competition.”

Before he could respond, I turned and strode out. Let him underestimate me. He wouldn’t for long. He and the others gossiping about me were going to discover I wasn’t the meek little Portia I had been when I left all those years ago.

I walked down the sidewalk to my future property. The storefront looked different already. The “For Lease” sign was gone, and a local furniture company was unloading boxes from their truck. My father stood on the sidewalk, chatting with the building owner—his old friend, Mr. Callahan—who’d agreed to let me move in early.

“You ready for this, kiddo?” Dad asked as I approached.

I nodded. “So ready.”