26. La Tavola Reale

"Where are we? I don't see a kebab stall anywhere, and you've led me to this disheveled back alley. I'm starving, Dan," Anne whined as I parked my car in the dimly lit, deserted alley and opened the door for her, playing the role of a gentleman.

"Just come along; I have a surprise for you," I teased with a wide grin.

"A surprise? Well, lucky me for playing the role of Mrs. Anderson. No, wait a second, I think I know this area. This is the row of buildings behind Esta Piazza, and if I'm not mistaken, that back door belongs to La Tavola Reale?" Anne said as she began to piece it together.

I smiled at her deduction, "Bingo."

"Wait, is this allowed? Are we trespassing? Their security is really tight! I don't want to embarrass myself, Danzel, and end up in jail," Anne fretted as I held her hand, leading her toward the door she had mentioned.

"Don't worry, Anne, I know the chef and owner of this restaurant."

"Really? You're lying; they're notoriously mysterious."

"Well, I helped them naviga
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