Lance Garrison felt his legs go weak and almost collapsed into his chair.
Of course, he knew about Macallan, the Rolls Royce of whiskey. The domestic market price, if converted to RMB, was over sixty thousand, and in a hotel like this, naturally, the price would be even higher.
Right now, even though he hadn't looked at the price list, he could roughly guess that a bottle would cost close to a hundred thousand.
With three tables in total, two bottles per table, that's six bottles, which would be six or seven hundred thousand. Although he was a high-ranking executive in a large company with an annual salary in the millions, he wasn't at this level of consumption.
Upon hearing this, Simone Coleman's face turned black as well.
She also knew about Macallan. This little pretty boy even ordered so many, thinking they could just slaughter them like vegetables? Is he used to mooching off rich women?
But since it was already said, she couldn't then say they didn't want the wine.
