Page 40 of Knocked Up by My Fake Fiancé
I raise my eyebrow. "So soon?"
He nods slowly. "It's about time we get this show on the road."
"I have a meeting at seven a.m."
"Cancel it."
"I can't just cancel a meeting at your whim."
He shoots me a piercing look. Now is not the time to push me, it says.
"Fine. I'll move it to noon."
That's what I thought, his eyes say, and he goes back to eating.
I drum my fingers on the table. His emotions seem to have transferred to me, and I've lost my appetite. I want to leave. The air is uncomfortable, but I just have to sit here and take it. Oh well, I guess it's good practice for pretending I can stand him while I'm being paraded in front of his parents tomorrow.
I sigh and pick up my fork again, stabbing fitfully at some potato dauphinoise.
His sharp eyes catch the movement, and he frowns.
"Don't eat like that at breakfast tomorrow."
Here comes Mr. Controlling. "What, you want me to use a fork and knife and hold my pinkie up?"
He doesn't chuckle at my joke. Instead, he narrows his eyes. "Proper table manners are important to my mother. It should be important to you, too."
I smirk. He's clearly taking me seriously. "Show me."
"What?"
"Show me how to eat like an aristocrat."
He cocks an eyebrow. "Well, first of all, your fork is in the wrong hand. The fork should be on the left and the knife on the right. Then, you slide the potatoes on like this, on this side of the fork. You don't stab the suckers like they owe you money."
I smirk. "You mean like this."
I execute the described action perfectly, scooping an acceptable amount of potatoes to the back of my fork and bringing it to my mouth. Once I'm done, I return the fork and knife to the right position and dab my mouth elegantly with the napkin.
I almost laugh at the expression on his face.
"You know I went to a high-class private school, right?" I say. "I may have been a scholarship girl, but the etiquette classes were still compulsory. Even if they weren't, I would have taken them anyway, for my job."
He rolls his eyes. "Well, why didn't you just say so?"
He sounds so disgruntled that I can't help it. I laugh.
And then the strangest thing happens. He cracks a smile.
It eases his entire demeanor as he shakes his head.
"I don't eat the way I do because I don't know how to act like you rich folks. It's just more comfortable for me." I glance at his fork. "You should try it one day."
"I'm good," he says.
After we finish eating, he shows me around the rest of the condo, including the very well-equipped gym and gorgeous sauna, which I already know I will be spending an obscene amount of time in. No private swimming pool, but apparently there's a small but very well-appointed one on the floor below that is open to all residents and is barely used.
The doorman introduces himself to me as Alvaro. He brings up the rest of my luggage from earlier.
