I’m sure many others will,” she couldn’t help adding.
Nick went quiet for a few moments, and Rachel didn’t know quite what to say.
“Or you two could always come back to Istanbul with me,” Mehmet said, breaking the awkward silence.
“Ohh! I would love to visit Istanbul!” Rachel said.
“It’s only three hours from Paris on my plane, and we’re having the most glorious weather this summer,” Mehmet said tantalizingly. “You should come too, Astrid. Come for a few days.”
• • •
After dinner, the four of them strolled leisurely along the terrace steps of the Palais de Tokyo leading up to avenue du Président Wilson. Rachel checked her phone and saw that Colette had left a number of text messages.
10:26 p.m.—Sat.
Is Carlton with you at restaurant?
10:57 p.m.—Sat.
If Carlton calls you, please let me know!
11:19 p.m.—Sat.
Never mind…found him.
11:47 p.m.—Sat.
Please call me ASAP.
12:28 a.m.—Sun.
URGENT!!! CALL ME PLEASE!!!
Rachel gasped upon reading the last message and immediately dialed Colette’s cell number.
“Hello?” a muffled-sounding voice answered.
“Colette? It’s Rachel. Is this Colette?”
“Rachel! Oh my God! Where have you been? Where are you?”
“What’s wrong, Colette? What happened?” Rachel said, alarmed by Colette’s near-hysterical tone.
“It’s Carlton…You must help me. Please.”
* * *
* An exceedingly rare Patek Philippe 18K gold single-button chronograph with a vertically positioned register and sector dial. Ref. 130, manufactured in 1928, given to Nick by his grandmother when he turned twenty-one.
18
THE SHANGRI-LA
PARIS, FRANCE
“Oh thank God you’re here! Thank God!” Colette cried as she opened the door, letting Rachel, Nick, Astrid, and Mehmet into her sprawling duplex suite. Rachel gave her a concerned hug, and Colette immediately broke down in sobs against her shoulder.
“Are you okay? Is Carlton okay?” Rachel asked, leading the suddenly fragile girl to the nearest sofa.
“Where’s everyone?” Nick asked, noticing that Colette was unusually sans entourage.
“I told everyone I was exhausted and sent them to their rooms. I couldn’t let them find out what was happening!”
“What is happening?” Rachel asked.
Trying to compose herself, Colette said, “Oh, it’s been terrible! Just terrible! After you guys left the party, this baby grand piano was wheeled out on the stage. Then John Major appeared and asked me to stand next to him while he serenaded me—”
“The former prime minister of Britain serenaded you?” Nick cut in, utterly bewildered.
“I’m sorry, I mean John Legend.”
“I’m so relieved,” Mehmet remarked drily to Astrid.
“So John began to sing ‘All of Me,’ ” Colette continued tearfully, “and at the end of the song, Richie got onstage, dropped to his knees dramatically, and asked me to marry him.”
Rachel and Nick both gasped.
“He ambushed me right in front of everyone! Apparently my mother and the girls were in on this—that’s why so many friends from China showed up at the party. I didn’t know what to say. I just stood there and noticed Gordon Ramsay over by the carrot truffle fries and all I could think was, What is Gordon going to think if I say no?”
“What did you do?” Rachel asked.
“I tried to laugh it off. I said, ‘Oh come on, Richie, this is a prank, right?’ And Richie said, ‘Does this look like a prank?’ He takes a velvet box out of his pocket and thrusts this ring in my face. I’m looking at it, this thirty-two-carat blue diamond from Repossi, and I’m thinking, AS IF I would ever wear a ring from Repossi! This man doesn’t know me, and I’m not in love with him. So I said, ‘I’m so honored, but you’re going to have to give me time.’ Richie said, ‘What do you mean give you time? We’ve been dating exclusively for three years now.’ And I said, ‘Come on, we haven’t exactly been exclusive,’ and all of a sudden Richie’s face got all twisted up and he began ranting, ‘What the hell do you mean by that? You’ve strung me along for three years now! I’m sick of waiting, and I’m sick of your games. Do you have any idea how much I’ve spent on tonight? Do you think John Legend flies to Paris for just anyone?’ Then suddenly Carlton, who had been standing right in front of the stage, hollered, ‘Hundan!*1 Can’t you get the message? SHE’S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU!’ And before I knew what was happening, Richie screamed ‘Nong sa bi suo luan!,’*2 leaped off the stage onto Carlton, and started punching him in the face!”
“Jesus! Is Carlton okay?” Rachel asked.
“He’s a bit battered, but he’s okay. Mario Batali, though—”
“What happened to Mario?” Astrid cut in, alarmed.
“As Carlton and Richie were rolling on the ground trying