“This isn’t actually a resort. This is Colette’s weekend retreat.”

“Excuse me? This whole property is hers?” Rachel sputtered.

“Yes, all thirty acres of it. Her parents built it for her.”

“And where do they live?”

“They have houses in many cities—Hong Kong, Shanghai, Beijing—but they spend most of their time in Hawaii these days,” Carlton explained.

“They must have done rather well,” Rachel commented.

Carlton gave her a look of amusement. “I guess I never mentioned—Colette’s father is one of the five richest men in China.”

*1 Among the 220,000-plus foreigners living and working in Shanghai, there are now more than 20,000 French nationals, an alarming number of them INSEAD or École Polytechnique graduates. With Europe still stuck in an economic coma, graduates from Europe’s top universities have been moving to Shanghai in droves. None of them speak a word of Mandarin, but who needs to when the bartenders at M1NT, Mr. & Mrs. Bund, or Bar Rouge don’t either?

*2 Mandarin for “tall, rich, and handsome,” the minimum requirements every Mainland Chinese girl looks for in a husband.

8

COLETTE

SHANGHAI, CHINA

Carlton’s car pulled up to the front entrance of the house, and two attendants in matching James Perse black T-shirts and trousers appeared from out of nowhere. One of them helped Rachel out of the car, while the other informed Carlton, “Sorry, you can’t leave your car here like you normally do. We are expecting Mr. Bing’s arrival. You can either move it around into the car porch, or I can park it for you.”

“I’ll move it—thanks,” Carlton replied. He zoomed off and returned shortly to join Rachel and Nick at the entrance. The imposing oxidized maple-wood doors opened, and they found themselves in a serene inner courtyard almost entirely composed of a dark, shallow reflecting pool. A travertine walkway ran down the middle of the pool toward tall lacquered doors the color of espresso, and bamboo block plantings ran along the walls of the courtyard. The lacquered doors parted silently as the three of them approached, revealing the inner sanctum.

Before them was an immense, eighty-foot-long living room decorated entirely in tones of black and white. Maids in long, black silk qipaos^*1 stood in a silent line by gray shikumen brick pillars hung with black-ink calligraphy scrolls, while polished black-tile floors and low-slung white sofas suffused the space with a tranquil, seductive vibe. The glass wall at the end of the room revealed an outdoor lounge filled with sleek sofas and dark-wood coffee tables, beyond which one could see more reflecting pools and pavilions.

Even Nick, who had grown up among the splendors of Tyersall Park, was momentarily taken aback. “Wow—is this a house or a Four Seasons resort?”

Carlton laughed. “Actually, Colette fell in love with the Puli Hotel in Shanghai and tried to get her father to buy it. When they found it wasn’t for sale no matter the price, he commissioned his architect to build her this place. This grand salon is inspired by the Puli’s lobby.”