ryethenovel Chapter 278 A Little Bit of Willfulness
Chapter 278 A Little Bit of Willfulness
Satsuki gently pressed down her raffia hat and strode towards the restaurant's main entrance.
Frank opened the car door and followed, not asking any questions about his boss's sudden decision to dine at this restaurant.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door, the pure, smoky aroma of dry-aged beef oozing from the hot charcoal fire instantly filled my nostrils. The air was filled with the malty scent of aged whisky and the rich smoke of a fine cigar.
The restaurant's interior lighting was slightly dim and warm. Dark wood paneling and leather booths created a sense of old-fashioned luxury.
It was lunchtime, and the lobby was filled with Wall Street traders and financial executives in shirts.
An elderly waiter dressed in a neat white uniform and wearing a black apron came forward to greet us.
When he saw Satsuki, a barely perceptible look of surprise flashed in his eyes. This old-fashioned steakhouse, brimming with male hormones, rarely saw young Asian women dressed in such clean, casual dresses.
But he still maintained a very high level of professionalism, bowing slightly.
"Do you two have an appointment?"
Satsuki did not answer his question. Her gaze went over the old waiter's shoulder and into the depths of the hall.
"We need that semi-open booth on the first floor near the corner of 49th Street," Satsuki requested in fluent American English.
The old waiter looked troubled.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. That booth was booked by several partners from Lehman Brothers about two weeks ago. They'll be arriving in about twenty minutes..."
Frank stepped forward at the opportune moment. He took out a business card from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, which bore the letter "SA Investment" and his title of "CEO." Below the card were two crisp hundred-dollar bills.
He extended his right hand, placing the business card and banknotes into the old waiter's palm, thus completing a discreet handshake.
"I think the Lehman Brothers might want a change of pace today; dining in the middle of the hall would be quite nice," Frank said, looking into the old waiter's eyes with a smile. "SA Investment needs that corner."
The old waiter's fingers twitched slightly as he collected the banknotes and business card into his palm. Upon recognizing the prefix on the business card—the name of the institution that had recently orchestrated a multi-billion dollar acquisition spree on Wall Street—the awkwardness on his face vanished instantly, his back unconsciously bent lower, and he replaced his expression with a respectful smile.
"You're right, sir. Please come with me."
An elderly waiter led the way, taking the two to a semi-open booth on the first floor near the corner of 49th Street.
Satsuki sat down on the dark green vintage leather sofa.
The waiter bowed slightly and handed over two thick, leather-bound menus with both hands.
Satsuki took it and gently opened the slightly rough leather cover, her gaze slowly sweeping over the meticulously formatted English menu items.
Well, this old-fashioned restaurant is almost exactly the same as I remember it, even the dishes and the order of their arrangement.
After confirming that the steakhouse still served its classic signature dishes, she gently closed the menu and handed it back to the waiter standing nearby.
She looked up and calmly ordered in fluent American English.
"A signature dry-aged bone-in ribeye steak, medium-rare. Served with creamed spinach and roasted asparagus. A glass of sparkling water, on the rocks."
The waiter quickly jotted down the order on the menu, then looked at Frank.
"One New York Strip steak, medium-rare. Served with mashed potatoes. Also, a glass of Macallan whiskey, neat."
"Okay, please wait a moment, gentlemen." The waiter bowed slightly, took the menus from the two of them, and turned to walk towards the kitchen.
The waiter first served Frank's whiskey and Satsuki's sparkling water.
Satsuki leaned back on the dark green leather sofa. She looked at Frank, a teasing smile appearing in her eyes.
"Drinking single malt whiskey in broad daylight." She gently swirled the sparkling water in her hand, a rare hint of relaxation in her voice. "Frank, doesn't SA Investment's employee handbook mention a rule prohibiting the consumption of spirits during work hours?"
Frank adjusted his posture and looked directly into Satsuki's eyes.
"Boss, according to New York's schedule, this is your private lunch break," he said seriously. "And this drink is a must to celebrate your safe arrival in New York."
"You're quite adept at coming up with excuses." A sly smile appeared in Satsuki's eyes. She extended her index finger and tapped lightly twice on the dark green leather sofa armrest.
"Looks like I'll have to have Executive Director Endo thoroughly investigate the New York branch's accounts. If they find out you've been using company money to buy alcohol, your entire bonus for this month will be deducted."
Frank shrugged helplessly.
"If you're going to deduct my bonus, then I'll just have to make up for it by eating two more New York strip steaks at this lunch."
Satsuki chuckled softly, picked up the slightly cool sparkling water, and took a sip.
The tension and fatigue of the international flight dissipated considerably amidst these harmless jokes. The two waited contentedly for the charcoal grilling in the kitchen, bathed in the soft glow of the brass wall lamps and the surrounding chatter.
Twenty minutes later.
The waiter returned carrying a heavy tray.
The large, rare, bone-in ribeye steak, with its deep brown, charred appearance, was placed on a white porcelain plate in front of Satsuki. The intense aroma of fat, mixed with the nutty and cheesy scent of dry aging, instantly filled the air.
The steak was still sizzling, and the overflowing juices gathered into a small, tempting pool at the bottom of the plate.
Mmm! That's the taste!
Satsuki picked up the heavy sterling silver knife and fork with great interest.
The knife slices through the crispy, caramelized surface of the steak, revealing tender, lean meat inside, a vibrant ruby red. The medium-rare cooking is just right, and the rich juices flow out along the cut.
She skillfully cut off a piece and put it in her mouth.
Chew slowly.
As you bite down, the rich fat and intense meaty aroma explode in your mouth.
She rested one cheek on her hand, savoring the pure aroma of the meat.
In her past life, she always devoured these high-calorie, high-protein meals with gusto. In the cutthroat environment of Wall Street, every meal was a means to acquire enough energy for the next business negotiation. She always managed to finish every last drop of this brutal fuel.
She swallowed the first piece of beef. She then picked up her sparkling water, took a sip, and cleaned her mouth.
With a flick of the wrist, cut off the second piece and put it in your mouth.
I chew, chew, chew.
However, when less than half of the steak on the plate had been eaten.
She slowed down her eating.
full.
Over the past few years, this body has been carefully nourished by exquisite Japanese cuisine and high-end ingredients that emphasize nutritional balance.
Then, her digestive system quickly succumbed to the extremely rough American-style heavy oil and meat.
What a disgrace...
She reluctantly placed the sterling silver knife and fork on the edge of the porcelain plate.
She picked up the sparkling water with ice cubes next to her and took a big gulp. The cool liquid slid down her esophagus, washing away the greasy feeling left in her mouth and slightly suppressing the discomfort of her bloated stomach.
My gaze fell on the bone-in ribeye steak on the plate, which was still more than half full.
She tilted her head slightly, looking at the fat that was gradually solidifying after cooling.
It must be that the restaurant kept reducing the portion sizes afterward, which is why I, in the 21st century, was able to finish it all.
What a shrewd businessman!
It's definitely not because my body is too small to digest so much food!
Satsuki picked up a clean white cotton napkin from the dining table.
He gently wiped away the oil stains from the corners of his lips.
I'm a little annoyed.
"Frank".
Satsuki said this while wiping her fingers.
Now, the young lady is going to throw a tantrum.
"Go to the front desk and make a public phone call."
Frank immediately put down his knife and fork, picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth.
"Tell the RTC liquidator: I need to adjust to the time difference. I don't want to hear anything about the acquisition for the next 48 hours."
"Let them sit in the conference room staring at the clock on the wall and do the math. How much exorbitant interest will they have to pay on those unsold buildings during those extra forty-eight hours?"
Frank stood up.
"Yes, I'll inform them immediately."
Frank turned around and strode toward the restaurant counter.
A few minutes later, Frank returned to his booth.
"Instructions have been delivered."
Satsuki stood up with satisfaction and picked up the raffia hat that was placed next to her.
"Let's go. To the hotel." (Frank: I haven't finished my steak yet...)
……
The liquidation meeting room of the Restructuring Trust Company (RTC).
The air conditioning in the room was blasting. A long, narrow conference table was piled high with thick files on non-performing assets.
Several liquidators sat around the conference table, their shirt collars slightly open and their ties loosely undone.
"Click".
Chief Liquidator Miller, seated at the head of the table, placed the telephone receiver back on its base. His movements appeared somewhat sluggish.
He leaned back in his chair, stretched out his hands, and vigorously rubbed the corners of his eyes, which were starting to ache.
"What did they say?" A colleague next to him looked up, his fingers stopping the twirling of his pen.
"It's been postponed." Miller's voice was filled with deep fatigue. "Frank said that Ms. Saionji needs ample time to adjust to the time difference. The next negotiation date is yet to be determined."
The meeting room fell silent for a few seconds.
He snorted coldly at the table full of cold coffee.
"Hmph, these Asian capitalists are even more arrogant than the Texas oil tycoons."
He picked up a bill from the table and pushed it across the surface.
"Go to the finance department and recalculate the maintenance bills for those commercial buildings. Include the late payment interest for these 48 hours. Tell the budget committee that the buyer has postponed the negotiations."
The colleagues looked at each other, each letting out a weary sigh, resignedly opened the files, and began pressing the calculator again.