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

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Any Help At All

Arturo wouldn't last long either, but the attraction was there, and she just knew that it was because he wasn't a feminine guy. His masculinity was drawing her in, even when he was tired and in desperate need of a shave and a change of clothes.

Arturo was looking at her, waiting for her to say something. Shit. She had to say something. "Why haven't you just gotten someone to come in here and clean up?"

"That would require us to slow down and get out of the way. I have an enormous headache and so does Orlando, and no one wants to listen to a vacuum cleaner while we read over the stupid shit Vincenzio is claiming."

That made sense. "It's not sanitary in here. Just take a half hour break. I can get all this sorted up. I won't even touch your desk, just to take out the trash and tidy up."

Arturo didn't exactly look convinced.

"Arturo, you're going to get sick, and you need a cat nap anyway. Just a quick break."

"You don't actually want to clean up in here," Arturo said.

"Would you agree to a cleaning no matter who did it? I'm trying to protect you from mice or something."

Could a building like this even get mice? Didn't seem likely, but that didn't mean caution shouldn't be given.

Arturo sighed and looked around, then he crinkled his nose in distaste, as though just seeing the mess around him for the first time. "It is something of a disaster in here."

"Okay, good. That means you'll get this place cleaned up. Now, only because I actually don't like cleaning, I'll call in a cleaning lady or something, maybe two of them so things go faster and you can get back to work."

"I knew you didn't want to clean up," Arturo said, smiling at catching her.

She tried her best to ignore him. "I will be bringing you your food."

"We've been ordering in fairly successfully on our own," Arturo said.

"Yeah, and it's all garbage. You're going to destroy your digestion. At least let me get something from your house. Martina is always worried about you. She's probably sad that she hasn't gotten the chance to cook for you lately."

The second that suggestion was out of her mouth, she wished she hadn't said anything.

She wanted to help Arturo relax and get his work done, but she wouldn't be cleaning for him, she wouldn't be cooking for him, she essentially wouldn't be doing anything.

She really wished she knew more about the law, or about actual business, but her only talents were in sales and in making her jewellery.

Arturo didn't make fun of her for it, though. He just had that same half smile on his face. "All right. That sounds...nice. Orlando would appreciate having something home cooked from Martina instead of Chinese food again."

"Good," Isla said, and then pulled out her phone, as if being the delivery girl was her new official job. "Tell me what foods he likes best, and I'll let her know."

"Martina already knows, you don't have to worry about it," Arturo said, but he was giving her a different sort of look now. She couldn't place what it was or what it meant. Probably because of the way his cheeks were so sunken.

Either way, Isla's throat felt weirdly thick al of a sudden. She had to force herself to swallow just to get her tongue working and put some moisture in there so she could speak. "Well, that's great then. I guess you're not coming back home tonight?"

Shit. When she said home, she wasn't giving off the impression that she thought it was her home, was she? She hoped not. That wasn't the intention, that wasn't what she wanted to do at all, look like some clingy girlfriend who already thought that she was living with him just because she had a room at his place.