The girl hadn't expected his question. Her mouth fell open in surprise, her lips, moistened by the juice, glistening faintly.
Her brow furrowed slightly without her realizing. Her clear, gentle eyes were free of any impurity, and her gaze was like that of a kitten begging for a comforting pat.
Her head hung low, the corners of her eyes drooping. She looked genuinely dejected.
Perhaps she was too tired to keep her guard up around him, and a hint of her temper slipped out. "No, I'm not."
His Adam's apple bobbed. Preston Keaton's fingers tapped lightly on the contract on the table. He coolly flipped a page, saying nonchalantly, "If you're not, then finish the rest of your steak."
"..."
Evelyn Grant listlessly picked up her knife and fork, grumbling internally.
'Even Dylan Grant wasn't this strict. He never cared how much I ate.'
