A few minutes later, Astrid’s phone buzzed back with a text message. “Found him,” she said with a grin. “Right now, it looks like Carlton’s at a commercial garage on avenue de Malakoff, right next to Porte Maillot.”

PARIS—2:45 A.M.

Rachel, Nick, and Colette huddled in the backseat of the Range Rover as it sped toward Carlton’s location. Sitting in silence, Rachel gazed out at the mostly empty boulevards of the Sixteenth Arrondissement, the streetlamps illuminating the elegant façades with that particular golden hue only to be found in Paris. She thought about how best to handle Carlton in his current state and wondered whether they would even get to him in time.

Suddenly they had arrived at avenue de Malakoff, and the chauffeur gestured toward the lone garage that seemed to be a hive of activity. Rachel stared in astonishment as the full extent of the race operation that had been months in the planning finally became clear to her. Through the partially raised garage door, a team of mechanics bustled around a carbon blue Bugatti Veyron Super Sport^*3 as if it were being prepared for the Formula One final, and several guys she recognized from the party stood outside the garage smoking. Rachel whispered to Nick, “Can you believe this? I had no idea it would be this much of a production!”

“You’ve seen how the women in this crowd spend their money; this is how the guys spend it,” Nick commented discreetly.

“Look, look! There’s Carlton standing over there with Harry Wentworth-Davies. Ugh, I should have known that wanker was part of all this!” Colette said.

Rachel took a deep breath. “I think it’s best that I try to talk to Carlton on my own. He might be more receptive if the three of us aren’t ganging up on him.”

“Yes, yes, we’ll just stay in the car,” Colette anxiously agreed.

Rachel got out of the car and approached the garage, and Carlton suddenly looked up and noticed them. Grimacing, he staggered out to the middle of the street and blocked Rachel from coming any farther. “You guys shouldn’t be here. How did you even find me in the first place?”

“Does it really matter?” Rachel said, studying her brother with concern. His left eye was blackened, he had a bruise on his jaw, a nasty cut on his bottom lip, and God knows what other injuries under his racing overalls. “Carlton, please don’t go through with this—you know you’re not in any condition to race tonight.”

“I’ve sobered up—I know what I’m doing.”

Like hell you have, Rachel thought. Knowing it was useless arguing with someone who had clearly had too much to drink, she tried a different tactic. “Carlton, I know what happened tonight. I can totally understand your anger, I really can.”

“I don’t know how you could possibly understand at all.”

Rachel grasped his arm encouragingly. “Look, you have nothing to prove to Richie anymore! Can’t you see that he’s already lost? He’s been totally humiliated by Colette. Can’t you see how much she loves you? Be the bigger man and walk away from this race now.”