"I don't mind spending a fortune on quality" I glanced at her, wondering if she recognized that the twenty-five million I was paying her was also for quality.
If she did, she didn't acknowledge it. Instead, she said, "You don't ever worry about running out?"
"No. But despite having the ultra-expensive chef and other fine things, in many other areas I’m frugal. I don’t waste my money. I also happen to be very good at managing and making money."
I took a sip of my water, trying to decide if I wanted to say the next bit. "If you're serious about wanting to start your own business, I can help you with that."
She stiffened, but didn't give me her usual evil eye. "You're paying me enough. I don't need any more money —"
"I'm not talking about money. I'm talking about business knowledge. Helping you make a business plan. Working with you to create a marketing plan. Finding the right location, if whatever business you want to start requires a location."
She glanced at me as she picked up her water. "I'll keep that in mind."
Inside I was screaming hallelujah. For once, she wasn’t automatically knocking my idea down or pushing me away.
She sat back in her chair and let out a breath.
"Finished already?"
There were several other items of food she hadn’t yet tried.
"Nope, just taking a breather. Did you really get your chef from a Michelin restaurant?"
"I did."
She thought for a moment. "Was it from Nori’s?"
"No."
"Caspers?"
"Nope." I watched her, amused by this game.
Her brow furrowed as she pulled her thus far untouched salad closer. "Is it a Los Angeles restaurant?" She stabbed at the lettuce in her bowl.
"No."
Her brow furrowed even further. "Sur La Vie?"
I laughed. "No. You know restaurants in Paris?"
"Yes." She wrapped her lips around a tomato making me stifle a groan as I imagined those lips around my dick.
"Balcharein?"
"Not there either."
She looked at me. "Were they from France?"
I shrugged. “Do you mean the chef or the restaurant I took him from?"
She laughed. "Both."
"He is French but the restaurant I took him from was not in France."
She pushed her salad away and started on the bisque. It had to be cold, but she savored the flavors as she had with all the other foods. It made me wonder what she had been eating before.
“Jean Jacques?”