She wanted to understand whether the man's contempt was merely an ugly personal habit or part of something more dangerous.
The billionaire had offered forty-eight million dollars for her restaurant and certain associated business interests.
His company had described the proposal as an opportunity to create an international luxury hospitality brand.
His representatives promised new investment, expansion, and access to one of the largest hotel networks in Europe.
Yet the latest draft agreement contained provisions she found deeply troubling.
Employment protections were vague.
Intellectual-property transfers were exceptionally broad.
And several paragraphs concerning a historic underground service passage seemed designed to obtain property rights that weren't actually owned by the restaurant's operating company.
Her legal advisers had raised concerns.
The billionaire's representatives had dismissed them.
Tonight was supposed to be an opportunity to discuss those concerns directly.
Instead, the man sitting at the table had spent the first twenty minutes insulting someone he believed lacked the power to answer.
He placed his menu on the table.
“Tell your manager I want the next course immediately.”
“The next course is being prepared, sir.”
“I didn't ask whether it was being prepared.”
She waited.
“I told you what I wanted.”
“Yes, sir.”
He leaned closer.
“Do you understand the difference?”
The waitress held his gaze.
“I understand you would like the next course served as soon as it's ready.”
His expression tightened.
He didn't like the answer.
It was polite.
But it denied him the satisfaction of making her flustered.
“You have quite an attitude for someone carrying plates.”
The older American adviser shifted uncomfortably.
“Perhaps we should continue reviewing the proposal,” he suggested.
The billionaire waved him away.
“We have all evening.”
Then he turned back toward the waitress.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you know I'm considering purchasing this restaurant.”
“I understand you're interested in an acquisition.”
He smiled.
“Interested? My dear, I'm practically doing the owners a favor.”
One of the American businessmen nodded eagerly.
The billionaire gestured toward the Delft tiles lining the walls.
“This building has charm. I'll give them that. But the business is too small. Too sentimental. Too dependent on old traditions.”
He raised his wineglass.
“When I take control, I'll turn it into something truly exceptional.”
The waitress studied him.
“What changes would you make?”
The question pleased him.
He loved discussing his own vision.
“First, the management must go.”
The older adviser looked up.
“That hasn't been agreed.”
The billionaire ignored him.
“Then the staff must be retrained. Some will be replaced. We need younger professionals who understand luxury standards.”
The waitress remained calm.