The restaurant Dennis Donovan recommended was situated in a relatively remote alley and wasn't very large.
If she hadn't known Dennis Donovan wasn't one for empty boasts, she never would have guessed from the outside that this little restaurant housed a supposed descendant of an Imperial Chef.
However, after getting out of the car, Arabella Donovan noticed the area around the small restaurant was teeming with luxury cars. If some reckless driver were to accidentally wander in, even scratching one of them would probably be enough to make them lose the will to live.
Upon entering, she saw the place was completely packed. It wasn't even dinnertime yet, but a long line had already formed along the corridor at the side of the restaurant.
Arabella Donovan studied the customers for a moment and noticed that most were middle-aged people in their forties and fifties. They were dressed modestly, but the accessories they wore, like watches and cufflinks, were anything but ordinary.
