Astrid scanned her closet and pulled out a black Yves Saint Laurent jumpsuit with a drawstring waist and jet beaded sleeves. This was just dressy and yet simple enough to complement a pair of outrageously bling earrings. She would wear them with a pair of Alaïa ankle boots to give the whole look an extra edge. Astrid felt a little lump in her throat as she put the jumpsuit on—she had never worn it before because it was too precious to her. It was from Yves’s final couture collection in 2002, and though she was only twenty-three when she had her fitting for this, it still draped against her body more perfectly than almost anything else she owned. God, I miss Yves.

Astrid headed downstairs to the nursery, where she found Michael keeping Cassian company at the children’s dining table while he ate his spaghetti with meatballs.

“Wow, vous êtes top, madame!” Cassian’s nanny exclaimed as Astrid entered.

“Merci, Ludivine.”

“Saint Laurent?”

“Qui d’autre?”

Ludivine placed her hand on her chest and shook her head in awe. (She could not wait to try it on as soon as madame left the house tomorrow.)

Astrid turned to Michael. “Is this good enough to impress your IBM bigwig?”

“Where on earth did you get those earrings? Tzeen or keh?”^*2 Michael exclaimed.

“Tzeen! My grandmother just gave them to me,” Astrid replied, slightly annoyed that Michael only noticed the earrings and failed to appreciate the subtle genius of her jumpsuit.

“Wah lan!^*3 Van Cleef and Ah Ma strikes again.”

Astrid winced. Michael had punished Cassian for using cuss words, and yet here he was swearing like a sailor right in front of him.

“Look—doesn’t Mummy look pretty tonight?” Michael said to Cassian, pinching a meatball from his bowl and popping it into his mouth.

“Yes. Mummy always looks pretty,” Cassian said. “And stop stealing my meatballs!”

Astrid melted instantly. How could she be annoyed at Michael when he looked so cute sitting in the little chair next to Cassian? Things had gotten much better between father and son since she returned from Venice. After kissing Cassian goodbye, the two of them headed outside to the front driveway, where their chauffeur, Youssef, was doing a final polish on the chrome work of Michael’s 1961 red Ferrari California Spyder.

Jesus, he’s really out to impress tonight, Astrid thought.

“Thanks for changing, hon. It really means a lot to me,” Michael said as he held open the car door.

Astrid nodded as she climbed in. “If you think it makes any difference, I’m happy to help.”

They drove in silence at first, enjoying the balmy breeze through the open top, but as he turned onto Holland Road, Michael picked up the conversation again. “How much do you think your earrings are worth?”

“Probably more than this car.”

“I paid $8.9 mil for this ’Rari. You really think your earrings are worth more? We should get them valued.”

Astrid found his line of questioning slightly tacky. She never thought of jewelry in terms of prices and wondered why Michael even brought it up. “I’m never going to sell them, so what’s the point?”