Chapter 204 Chapter 204
She had completely forgotten to consult the opinion of the dinner's “financier.”
She was so focused on her conversation with Sara that Nicholas had been reduced to a mere luxury accessory at her side. Throughout the entire trip, he had not expressed his opinion.
Caroline stopped and looked at him, concerned. She didn't even know if he liked carbohydrates.
“Nicholas...” She blinked, feeling guilty. “Do you like Italian food?”
She felt obliged to at least pretend to be democratic.
Nicholas looked at her hopeful expression and found it amusing. If he said “no,” she would probably cry.
“Yes,” he replied, simply and directly. “I like it.”
“Great!” Caroline sighed with relief, her enthusiasm returning in full force. “Let's go in! This place gets crowded at night. I'm sure you'll love it. It's the best pasta in town, I guarantee it!”
Caroline was proud of her gastronomic recommendations. She had tried thirty bad restaurants before finding this gem.
...
However, reality was cruel.
When they arrived at the restaurant door, the main lobby was already chaotic.
It was packed. There was a crowd of people holding tickets, waiting outside and at the bar. By visual estimate, there were at least a hundred people in front of them.
Sara frowned when she saw this. Her legs were still weak from her recovery.
“Sister...” Sara whispered, discouraged. “Look at that line. It'll take forever. How about we go somewhere else? Any fast food place will do.”
Caroline looked at the crowd and then at the delicious smell coming from the kitchen. She pouted stubbornly.
“The other restaurants aren't as good as this one...” she grumbled. “I think we should wait a little, since we're here. Maybe... maybe a large group will finish eating at the same time and the line will move quickly?”
Sara was speechless.
Optimism has its limits, thought her younger sister.
Although she wanted the food, Sara wasn't willing to stand in line for two hours. But since Caroline looked like a child who was about to have her candy stolen, Sara didn't have the heart to say no.
Nicholas, who had been watching the scene in silence—Caroline's stubbornness and Sara's exhaustion—made a decision.
He was not a man who liked to stand in lines.
He patted Caroline gently on the shoulder.
“Wait here with Sara.” His voice was calm and authoritative. “I'll be right back.”
“Huh?” Caroline blinked. “Oh, okay.”
She thought he was going to the bathroom or maybe to smoke. She nodded obediently and stood in the imaginary line, preparing for the long wait.
Nicholas didn't go to the bathroom. He went to solve the problem.
He walked down the restaurant hallway, ignoring the line, and stopped in front of a busy private room. He knocked lightly on the door.
“Come in!” a voice answered from inside, assuming it was the waiter with the dishes.
Nicholas opened the door and entered.
There were seven or eight people in the room, seated around a large round table. The atmosphere was lively; they seemed to be a group of friends or coworkers. They had just sat down, as only the appetizers and a few drinks had been served.
When they saw that the person entering was not a waiter in an apron, but a tall, elegant young man with a noble aura, the group was confused.
The conversation stopped.
One of the men, sitting at the head of the table, looked Nicholas up and down, noticing his designer shirt and impeccable posture.
“Um... did you walk into the wrong room, buddy?” he asked.
Nicholas could not be mistaken for an employee even if he tried.
Nicholas shook his head politely and closed the door behind him.
“Sorry to interrupt.” His voice was calm and polite. "I would like to negotiate this room with you.
Could you give it to me?
The group was silent for a second, processing the audacity.
Then the shock turned to indignation.
Was there something wrong with this guy?
They had waited almost an hour in line outside to get this table. They had just started drinking. And this stranger walks in and asks them to leave?
“You're joking, right?” The man at the head of the table frowned, annoyed. “Sir, if you want a table, go back outside and get in line like everyone else. We waited our turn. We're not leaving.”
Nicholas's request was too ridiculous. Insulting, even.
They weren't going to be nice to a lunatic.
“Please leave. We're having dinner.”
Nicholas didn't move. He kept smiling, a smile that showed no embarrassment, but rather negotiation.
“I understand the inconvenience,” Nicholas said softly. “I'll pay you to give up the room. All your dinner expenses will be on me if you agree to leave now.”
“Pay us to leave?” Another guy slammed his hand on the table, standing up angrily. “How dare you?! Do you think that just because you have a few bucks you can buy everything? Do you think we're beggars?”
“We don't need your money!” shouted a woman. “Leave now and stop ruining our dinner!”
“That's right. Where did this crazy guy come from? He has the nerve to come in here and ask for something like that?”
“He's handsome, but he seems to have a screw loose. He must be some spoiled rich kid.”
Insults flew around the room. “Lunatic,” “arrogant,” “clueless.”
Nicholas wasn't bothered in the least. His expression remained impassive, as if he were listening to the buzzing of flies, not insults.
He continued to smile, and his hand slid casually into his pants pocket, pulling out a checkbook (or perhaps just preparing the transfer).
“My wife loves the food at this restaurant,” he said, his voice taking on a tone of absolute devotion, ignoring their anger. “There are a lot of people waiting in line outside. She's tired and hungry, and I... honestly, I can't stand the idea of making her wait on her feet for too long.”
Nicholas looked at the group, his dark eyes shining with determination.
“My wife's time is precious.”
He paused dramatically.
“If you are willing to give up this room now and go have dinner somewhere else... I will give you one hundred thousand each.”
Silence fell over the room like an anvil.
Nicholas raised an eyebrow defiantly.
“One hundred thousand reais. For every person sitting at this table. Immediate transfer.”
“Are you sure you don't want to consider the offer?”