Chapter 123: Delayed Plans
A woman with flowing brunette hair strode into Las Flores, the upscale Spanish fine-dining restaurant owned by Ricardo Rossi. Dressed in nothing more than fitted jeans, sleek rubber shoes, and a simple shirt, she should have looked out of place among the chandeliers and crisp white tablecloths.
But despite her casual attire, she carried herself with such effortless elegance and quiet authority that not a single staff member dared question her presence—or the fact that she blatantly ignored the restaurant’s strict dress code.
Without hesitation, she was escorted to one of the private dining rooms, the very one Ric had reserved the night before. As she settled in, she ordered one of the most expensive bottles of non-alcoholic wine, an indulgence despite the fact that the meal had already been pre-selected for her.
Minutes passed in silence, the flickering candlelight casting shadows over her composed features. Just as she began to swirl the deep red liquid in her glass, the door creaked open, drawing her gaze.
She smirked, lifting the bottle ever so slightly.
"Finally, you’re here," she mused, her voice smooth but edged with amusement. "I was starting to think I’d finish this bottle before even laying eyes on you."
Ric narrowed his eyes, scanning the woman from head to toe, then back up again. His brows furrowed in confusion. ’Who the hell is she?’ he thought.
Before he could say a word, the woman let out an exasperated sigh and pulled off her hat and oversized sunglasses, revealing a familiar face. She rolled her eyes at his dumbfounded expression.
Ric’s jaw dropped. He instinctively slapped both hands over his mouth, muffling his gasp of shock. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at her in disbelief before quickly shutting the door behind him.
"Oh my God. I didn’t recognize you at all," he blurted out. "Wait... did you color your hair just for this meeting?" he exclaimed with incredulity as if the idea alone was too ridiculous to comprehend.
The woman scoffed, shaking her head. "It’s a wig, goddamnit. I can’t afford to be seen with you, you know that!" she snapped, sinking back into her chair with a frustrated sigh. Without missing a beat, she poured the deep red wine into a glass and slid it toward him.