Page 14 of The Bossy Billionaire's Fake Date

To my surprise, she chuckled loudly. “God, your mom was totally right. You are such a workaholic.”

“Work is all I know,” I told her. “And I like being that way. It keeps me busy. And focused.”

“Hmm,” she replied distractedly and looked at her phone. “We should probably order now. I think the gum has finally killed my appetite.”

I wanted to tell her that this conversation had done something similar for mine, but I held my tongue. After we ordered, I couldn’t help but look down at my watch. Time seemed to be moving incredibly slowly in her company and I couldn’t wait for this evening to be over.

But I knew my mother was going to bombard me with questions and skewer me if she got the slightest sense that I didn’t make enough of an effort.

“Do you have any hobbies?” I tried to engage her again.

“I told you,” She shrugged. “I like traveling, and I like to shop.”

“A hobby is more like a skill. Something that you invest time and effort in getting better at,” I told her.

“Trust me, it takes skill to get on the list for the release of the latest designer bag,” she bragged.

“Have you ever thought of going into design as a profession?” I felt like I was beating a dead horse. “You seem to have a passion for it.”

“Can we not talk about boring things anymore?” she whined. “Your mom said that you’re looking to settle down soon. I think that is a shared interest we have in common.”

I was taken aback by her boldness.

“You met me twenty minutes ago and you’re talking about settling down?” Alarm bells began to sound in my head.

“Why wait?” she giggled, twirling a bleached lock of hair around her finger. “I mean, I’m young and attractive, and you look like a guy who can appreciate that. I think we would make a good pair.”

At that point, I gave up on trying to save the date. I couldn’t believe that my own mother thought I would be compatible with someone like her. She seemed entirely too vapid and self-absorbed.

“I would hold off on those plans,” I said, trying to let her down gently.

Immediately, I could tell that I had offended her by the look on her face. It seemed like she wasn’t used to people rejecting her.

“I’m a ten,” she exclaimed, a whole other edge to her voice. “You’ll be missing out.”

“I’m used to being out of the loop,” I shrugged. “Work takes up enough of my time to never worry about that.”

Her strategy didn’t work, and I could see on her face that she was finally realizing that the date wasn’t going to go her way.

“I could take care of you,” she said, but her words were insincere. “I’m sure that heading up such a big company must take its toll on you.”

“My company is like my significant other,” I replied flatly. “It’s the most demanding relationship in my life.”

She folded her arms across her chest in a huff. Luckily, the waiter brought our food at that exact moment, so the conversation was cut short. He laid the food out in front of us. I was about to dig into my plate when I noticed Carla glaring at her food.

“What is this?” she asked angrily. “I asked for a salad without any olives and there are olives in here!”

The waiter rushed back to our table, having heard her shrieking across the floor. “I’m sorry, ma’am. There must have been an oversight. I’ll get your food replaced right away.”

But Carla wasn’t having it. Her generally pretty demeanor turned dark and ugly, her brows knotted tightly.

“No, I demand to see the chef. He needs to come out here and apologize in person. How do you expect to run this establishment when you make stupid mistakes like this?” she fumed.

Carla was talking loud enough that the other people in the restaurant had begun to take notice. I could feel several eyes peering at us from all over.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I tried stepping in, feeling embarrassed. “No need to make such a big scene.”

She shot daggers at me. “You’re supposed to be on my side. I demand to see the chef right now!”

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