Page 22 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 5

He laughed.

I hadn’t even realized I’d said the words out loud. And he didn’t get the chance to tell me about the rest of the staff because we’d wound our way right back to the entrance of the dining room.

I was pretty sure I was wearing the most expensive dress I’d ever worn in my entire life, but the whole family was staring at me like I was a barbarian. I looked down at my bare feet.I should have just worn the stupid shoes.The way they were staring, I might as well have been butt naked.

Isabella smiled at me the same way she had right before she poured milk down the front of my blazer. I forced myself not to wince as I let my gaze wander to her mother. Mrs. Pruitt was a spitting image of her daughter. Unnaturally so. The skin on her face looked oddly stretched out. Botox maybe? Or some kind offace-lift? Either way, she was still beautiful. But the way she was staring at me wasn’t.

She cleared her throat and set down her wine glass. “If you’d like to eat with us, you’ll need the proper attire. Miller, take her back upstairs for a pair of shoes.”

“It’s fine, Patricia,” Mr. Pruitt said to his wife and then looked back at me. “Brooklyn, sit.”

I stood frozen on the hardwood floors. What had I been thinking? This wasn’t a home. Only homes were for bare feet. I mean, Mr. Pruitt had instructed me to wear a dress. Of course that meant I was supposed to wear shoes. I swallowed hard as I looked back and forth between them. This was an awful way to start this already awkward dinner.

“No,” Mrs. Pruitt said. “Just because we let in a stray doesn’t mean we have to lower our standards.”

Ouch.“I don’t mind,” I said and took a step back from the dining room. “It’s no trouble at all. I’ll be right back.”

“Brooklyn, sit,” Mr. Pruitt said before I could flee. “Miller, get her seat. Now.” He snapped his fingers like Miller was a dog.

Miller stepped forward and pulled out my chair for me.

Who treated people that way? I wanted to run. I wanted to be anywhere in the world but here. But wasn’t this all kind of going according to plan? Mrs. Pruitt clearly hated me as much as Isabella did. I’d be kicked out in no time.

“Thank you,” I said to Miller and sat down in the chair.

“That’ll be all, Miller,” Mr. Pruitt said. “I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

Miller nodded and retreated into the kitchen. I would have done anything to be allowed to run away with him.

Mrs. Pruitt took a huge gulp of her wine and glared at her husband. “So this is how it’s going to be now? Utter chaos? Darling, we have standards.”

“It’s a pair of shoes,” he said and gave me a smile that he probably thought was kind. But it looked like a grimace. “She probably just didn’t have any that looked good with the dress. Right, Brooklyn?”

“Actually, I just thought…” I let my voice trail off as I eyed the salad in front of me. Were they going to serve a three-course meal during a family dinner? This was not the place to tell him my opinions of what a home should be like. Because I wasn’t even staying. “Yeah,” I said. “It’s that.”

“See.” He took a sip of his wine. “All will be remedied by tomorrow when her order arrives. Now let’s try to enjoy this delicious salad.”

Mrs. Pruitt rolled her eyes so hard I thought they’d pop out of her head. “I think we should get a second opinion.”

“On what? The salad?” He popped some lettuce in his mouth. “It’s delicious.”

“No, not the salad. On whether or not this child is actually yours.”

“Dr. Wilson ran the test twice,” he said.

“I mean a second opinion from another doctor. Obviously.”

“Dr. Wilson has been our primary care physician for years. Are you saying you don’t trust him now?”

“I trusted you too.”

“It was years ago, Patricia. And we’ve already had this conversation. Several times. You’ve exhausted it to death. The last thing we need is to hash it out again at dinner in front of our daughter.”

I wasn’t sure why I did it, but I braved a glance at Isabella. She was smiling like this was the most entertaining thing she’d ever seen. I looked back down at my salad. I wasn’t hurt by the fact that he’d said daughter instead of daughters. I didn’t want him as my family either.

Mr. Pruitt cleared his throat. “Where are my manners? Brooklyn, this is my wife, Patricia. And you already know Isabella.”

“Mhm.” My voice sounded so small. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Pruitt.”