them off.’ He mimes something that looks a little like baseball but not quite. Cricket, maybe?
‘There’s a joke in there.’
‘Please don’t look too closely,’ Remy adds as we reach the hallway again.
‘I’m not sure I’m talking to you.’
‘I think you’re annoyed at the wrong person.’
‘I appreciate you tried to sort this out, but you can’t make my decisions for me. You get that, right?’ He doesn’t offer an answer, though a muscle begins to tick in his jaw. ‘Besides, do you really think I’m so petty as to throw some kind of tantrum and make you come on your own?’
‘I wasn’t sure what your reaction would be.’
‘Then you don’t really know me.’
‘I know you enough to trust you with my heart.’
My anger drains away, my throat suddenly tight as I tip up onto my toes and press my lips to his smooth cheek. ‘Then let me look after it. And let me make my own decisions.’
At the table, Remy has been placed to his mother’s left, my own seat almost facing his, as is often the way at formal dinners. Not that I have much experience from this side of the table. The guest side, I mean, not the proximity.
‘Will Rhett be close by?’ I ask, placing my clutch on my chair, not yet ready to sit.
‘Rhett’s working this evening.’ I guess my face must reflect my surprise as he adds, ‘He once told me he would rather take a vow of silence than sit through one of these things.’
‘He couldn’t keep his mouth shut if you wired his jaw.’ But I know what he means. ‘I think the least I’m going to need is a drink to get through this myself.’ I glance behind me, hoping for a passing waiter. As I glance back, Remy is doctoring the place settings. ‘What are you doing?’
‘You need a drink to get through this, which we’ll take care of very soon, and I need you near me,’ he says, placing my name card next to his. ‘There. Let’s go and find the champagne and make some ridiculous bids on some useless items.’
I don’t know about useless but there are some pretty swanky things on offer in the silent auction part of the evening. Around the periphery of the room, stations have been set up with items to bid on. Rather than a traditional auction model of public bids and a banging gavel, this is much more sedate and civilised. Remy and I are given numbers to use, rather than our names, and we wander from station to station, examining the lots and placing anonymous bids.
A spa day here at the hotel.
A hot air balloon ride.
A cooking class with a Michelin starred chef.
A tasting session with a leading sommelier.
A piece of art from a Paris gallery that’s a little depressing.
A golf lesson with a PGA star
Electric items: iPads, laptops, new phones, and other tablets and gadgets.
Jewellery.
A day for twelve on a superyacht.
Sailing lessons.
Tickets to an upcoming opera.
Plus, an afternoon appointment with Glenna Goodman, that seems to be causing a bit of a stir. The list goes on and on and on.
‘What about the necklace,’ Remy suggests, pointing to a diamond pendant in a glass case with its own security guard.
‘No thanks. I’m thinking more about the cooking class.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Not for me. For you. That way you can dazzle me with more than just a cheese sandwich.’
‘A Croque Monsieur is a French classic. Besides, my cooking skills are not how I aim to dazzle you.’
We wander a little more, placing a bet here and there. I have no expectation of winning anything tonight, considering the net worth of the room’s inhabitants. Eventually, we wander back to our table, and as the evening begins, there is one chair unfilled.
Amélie’s.
Dinner is served, candelabra’s burn, crystal gleams and china chinks. And of course, champagne bubbles and flows. The conversation is mostly in French, though the man to my left, an elderly industrialist I’m told, involves me in conversation lots. Ben sits at the far side of the table, remote but friendly, I suppose. I guess I should be pleased he hasn’t tried to cultivate a friendship between us, given what happened in Wolf Tower that day.
Remy introduces me as his girlfriend throughout the evening, translating for me where he can in French, Monegasque, and Italian. The show-off. And even more surprisingly, his mother makes a point of apologising for the misunderstanding with the table placements. Albeit in a cool way.