Chapter 863: Startup Ideas (4)

Damian Sinclair sighed, “Eyes and mouths are on other people; what can I do?”

Bella Acker pouted.

Damian Sinclair laughed, squeezing her hand, “Worried I’ll be snatched away by other women? Why not take action quickly?”

“Who cares.” Bella Acker scoffed and rolled her eyes at him.

The two exited the community and waited for a taxi by the roadside. Maybe it was the heavy snow, but they waited for quite a while. Bella Acker’s hands were almost frozen stiff, yet not a single taxi came by.

Damian Sinclair said, “Snowy days make it hard to get a cab.”

Bella Acker checked her phone; it was already past eleven. As they waited, there were fewer and fewer cars on the road, and the snow kept getting heavier. Eventually, she sighed, “Forget it, I remember there’s a guest room. You can sleep there.”

“Should have known we wouldn’t get a cab and stayed inside instead of freezing out here. Let’s go back.”

“President Sinclair, why does it feel like everything is part of your plan when you say that?”

Damian Sinclair sighed, “I’m not a god; how could I predict such things?”

Bella Acker thought it made sense, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he must’ve known in advance.

Unable to get a taxi, the two returned inside, just in time to run into Sharon Cheney going downstairs to get water.

Bella Acker put the keys down, closed the door feeling awkward, “Mom, you’re still up?”

“Just reading a bit, getting ready to sleep. You both should rest early too.” Sharon Cheney smiled slightly, filled her glass, then went back upstairs to her room.

“President Sinclair, the guest room is over there. Sleep soon, goodnight.” Bella Acker said, not waiting for Damian Sinclair’s reply, and went to her room.

Damian Sinclair: “…” Why do guest rooms exist?

Bella Acker washed up, put on a face mask, and was about to sleep when her room door was knocked on.

She opened the door to find Damian Sinclair standing outside.

“President Sinclair, not sleeping yet?”

“The guest room hasn’t been cleaned; it’s dirty,” Damian Sinclair said.

Bella Acker glanced at him, unceremoniously, “Then you’ll have to trouble yourself with catching a cab home now.”

Damian Sinclair looked at her and sighed, “Are you sure we can’t sleep together?”

“No.” Bella Acker answered decisively, “President Sinclair, goodnight.” With that, she shut the door, hiding behind it to chuckle.

Rogue of a man, trying to take advantage again, thinking she’s foolish enough to fall for it every time.

Bella Acker happily climbed into bed, grabbed her phone, and logged into the chat group with her friends, “Have you both wrapped up filming yet? I have a plan to discuss.”

Sandra Woods replied quickly, “Taking a break, night shoot isn’t wrapped yet, I’m exhausted. What’s your plan?”

“I want to open a hot pot restaurant. Give me some advice.”

“Sure, it’s simple. First, determine the target customer group, either common or classy, but given our public profiles, I’d suggest going classy. The common route attracts too many people which can lead to issues.” Sandra Woods sent this directly as a voice message.

Bella Acker also started sending a voice message, “Your thinking matches mine. Isn’t Han style becoming trendy these past two years? I want a Han-style hot pot restaurant, from decoration to staff attire, everything modeled after Han dynasty. Plus, I plan to use a charcoal stove instead of gas, like the vibe of ‘fresh brew on a green ant night.’ Do you think it’s feasible?”

Sandra Woods said, “It’s viable, I think it’s especially creative. Bella, I want to invest.”