Have Her Wrapped Around His Little Finger

At L’Entrecote. Kira took in the ambience of the Parisian brasserie. The interior of the three Michelin-starred restaurant was…dreamy. Everything was clad in gorgeous pastels, shimmering under hand-cut glass chandeliers. Panel art pieces graced walls painted a creamy mint. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a spectacular view of the waterfront. In a corner, a pianist delighted guests with Edward MacDowell’s ‘To A Wild Rose.’ Blue-eyed and curly-haired waitstaff in tuxedos bustled between tables discreetly and efficiently. Two of them were standing by Kira’s table, serving dishes from a dining cart. Parsley butter, escargot in garlic, onion soup, oeufs en meurette. And the legendary tender sliced l’entrecôte steak in secret sauce, paired with golden French fries and green salad with walnut. Each dish was garnished exquisitely and picture-perfect. ‘Bon appétit,’ one of the waiters said, flashing a charming smile at Kira. Flustered, she stammered out a ‘thank you.’ It was her first time