Arrangement with a Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaire Brothers Book 1) COMPLETE

Chapter Thirteen - Dinner and Innuendo

"Of course," Jeffery said, and he began to plate their meals.

Isla wasn't even all that hungry, but she couldn't wait to dig in.

The salad came first, and it was interesting to note how Jeffery offered her a choice of dressings. He had everything on his tray from caesar and french, all the way down to just plain oil and vinegar. Of course, those dressings didn't come in the bottles Isla bought from the grocery store. They were stored in metal bowls that sat over ice trays. The oil was stored in a glass container of some kind.

"French," Isla said. It was her absolute favorite thing to put on a salad.

Jeffery also plated her salmon and mashed potatoes, along with her vegetables. There was no way in hell Isla was going to be able to eat this much food, but she was sure as hell going to try.

Still, there was something a little strange about being served as though she was in a high end restaurant, the kind that she'd never bother going to because they were too expensive, when she was really a guest in a man's home.

Arturo seemed to pick up on this. He waited for Jeffery to excuse himself and walk off with the trolly before he spoke up.

"You look uncomfortable. Is everything not to your liking?"

"What? No, God, this great," Isla said. She picked up a fork and stuck her salmon with it.

Yeah, it was flaky all right. It practically fell apart when she touched it. How had Jeffery even managed to get it onto her plate in one piece?

"You don't look like you think it's great," Arturo said.

Isla shook her head, looking from Arturo to her food, and back again. "No, this is amazing, it's just a little strange, that's all. I feel like I'm in a restaurant."

Only there weren't fifty or so people around her, eating, talking, and enjoying themselves with her.

Arturo cocked his head a little to the side. "You hardly grew up poor, or even middle class. Not by a long stretch. You grew up wealthy. Isn't this how you ate at home?"

Isla paused with her food half way to her lips. She looked right at Arturo, his curious frown telling her so much in that instant.

Yeah, she'd grown up rich, but his version of rich and hers were two entirely different things, and he didn't seem to realize that. Arturo seemed to think it was perfectly normal to have someone plate his food for him, pour his dressing, and ask him if he wanted refills every single time. He was used to feeling like he was in a restaurant because he was constantly surrounded by people who were being paid to serve him.

"I was a rich girl, sure," Isla said, putting her fork down and shrugging. Then her nerves kicked up a notch as she realized how very careful with her words she needed to be. "But my parents didn't want to spoil me. I got an allowance every month when I cleaned my room and brought home good grades, and they had a monthly budget that they stuck to. I guess my family just wasn't too comfortable spending money."