C26 Ma Petite 2
The wall clock in my loft read a quarter past seven when the intercom buzzed, cutting through the tense silence I had been feeding for the last few hours. I had already called Marcus, my sous-chef at L’Étoile, to let him know I would be late for the start of service. My mind, however, was still at the restaurant or at least that was where I wanted it to be
