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 con
tinued tearfully, “and at the end of the song, Richie got onstage, dropped to his knees dramatically, and asked me to marry him.”