“Just what am I losing, Mother?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? The very existence of this girl brings shame to our family. It tarnishes our name. Your name. Don’t you realize how people will see us when they discover that your father had an illegitimate daughter with some country girl who kidnapped her own baby and took it to America? Bao Gaoliang, the new hope of the party? All his enemies are just waiting to tear him down. Don’t you know how hard I have worked all my life to get our family to this position? Aiyah, God must be punishing me. I should never have sent you to England, where you got into so much trouble. That car accident knocked out every bit of sense from your brain!”

Colette, who until this moment had been lying quietly beside Carlton, started giggling when she saw his look of exasperation. Carlton quickly put a pillow over her face.

“I promise you, Mother, Rachel is not going to bring any shame to our…ouch…family.” He coughed, as Colette began jabbing him playfully in the ribs.

“She already is! You are destroying your reputation by parading around Shanghai with that girl!”

“I assure you, Mother, I haven’t done any parading,” Carlton said as he tickled Colette.

“Fang Ai Lan’s son saw you at the Kee Club last night. How foolish of you to be seen with her at such a visible place!”

“All types of people go to the Kee Club! That’s why we went there—she could be anyone there. Don’t worry, I’m telling everyone she’s the wife of my friend Nick. Nick went to Stowe too, so it’s a very convenient story.”

Shaoyen wouldn’t let it go. “Fang Ai Lan told me she heard from her son that you were making a fool of yourself with a woman on each arm—Colette Bing and some girl he didn’t recognize. I didn’t dare say a thing!”

“Ryan Fang is jealous because I was in the company of two beautiful women. He’s just bitter because his parents forced him to marry Bonnie Hui, who on a good day resembles a naked mole rat.”

“Ryan Fang is a good son. He listened to his parents and did what was best for his family. And now he’s going to become the youngest party secretary in—”

“I don’t really care if he’s the youngest man to rule Westeros and sit on the Iron Throne,”*1 Carlton said, cutting her off.

“That Colette put you up to this, didn’t she? She’s the instigator! Colette knew I didn’t want you anywhere near Shanghai this week.”

“Please leave Colette out of this. This has nothing to do with her.”

Hearing her name, Colette climbed onto Carlton, straddled him, and peeled her top off. Carlton eyed her hungrily. God, he never tired of her miraculously sculpted breasts.

“Ride ’em, cowboy!” she whispered. Carlton put his hand over her mouth, and she began biting into the flesh of his palm.

“I know Colette has been influencing you. Ever since she became your girlfriend, you’ve been nothing but heartache to me.”

“How many times do I have to tell you: She’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends,” Carlton droned as Colette began grinding herself slowly against him.

“That’s what you say. So where did you spend the night last night? Ai-Mei told me you haven’t been home in days.”

“I have been spending time with my sister, and since you will not allow her to set foot in your house, I’ve had no choice but to stay with them at their hotel.” Carlton was actually holed up in the enormous Presidential suite at the Portman Ritz-Carlton, where he knew his mother’s spies would never look for him.

“Oh my God, you are calling her your sister now!”

“Mother, whether you like it or not, she is my sister.”

“You are killing me slowly, son. You are killing me from the inside out.”

“Yes, Mother, I know. I’ve heard it many times before: I’m such a disappointment, I have betrayed all my ancestors, you don’t know why you ever bore the pain of giving birth to me,” Carlton said, hanging up the phone.

“My God, your mother really laid it on thick this time, didn’t she?” Colette said in English. (Of all her boyfriends, Carlton was the only one with a perfect posh British accent, and she found it so alluring to hear him use it.)

Carlton groaned. “She had a huge row with my father last night and kicked him out of the flat—he ended up checking in to the Upper House at two in the morning. I guess she wanted to make me feel just as bad.”

“Why should you feel bad? It’s not like you’re responsible for any of this.”

“Precisely—my mother’s completely lost the plot! She’s so worried that Rachel is somehow going to ruin our family’s reputation, but her strange behavior is ruining her own reputation.”

“She has been acting rather strange lately, hasn’t she? She used to like me.”

“She still likes you,” Carlton said rather unconvincingly.

“Uh-huh. I’m really buying that.”

“Trust me, the only person she’s mad at right now is my father. She refused to leave Hong Kong, so when he said he was going back to Shanghai on his own, she told him that she would divorce him if he tried to see Rachel. She’s afraid they’ll be seen together in public and some scandal will erupt.”

“Wow. It’s gotten that bad?”

“It’s an empty threat. She’s just caught up in her anger.”

“Why don’t I arrange a dinner for Rachel to secretly meet your father at my house? That’s not a public place.”

“You just like causing trouble, don’t you?”

“Am I the one causing trouble? I’m just being hospitable to your sister. It’s rather ridiculous that she’s been in Shanghai for over a week now and your father still hasn’t seen her. He was the one who invited her in the first place!”

Carlton considered it for a moment. “We could try to arrange something. I’m not sure my father will come, though. He kicks and screams but he always ends up obeying every command of my mother’s.”

“Leave it to me. I’ll call your father and tell him it’s an invitation from my dad. That way he won’t refuse, and he won’t be expecting Rachel to be there.”

“You’re being awfully nice to Rachel and Nick.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? She’s your sister, and I’m enjoying them very much. They are such a different species. Rachel is cool, there’s no bullshit with her. And she’s a total banana,*2 isn’t she? Just look at how she dresses in those no-name brands, her painful lack of jewelry—she’s not like any Chinese girl I’ve ever met. Nick I’m still trying to figure out. Didn’t you say his parents were rich?”

“I think they do okay, but I don’t get the impression they are that rich. The father used to be an engineer, and now he’s a sports fisherman. And Mrs. Young does day-trading, I think.”

“Well, he’s been very well brought up. He has this very particular sort of relaxed charisma, and his manners are impeccable. Have you noticed that whenever we’ve been in an elevator, he always lets all the women exit first?”

“So?”

“That’s the mark of a true gentleman. And I know he didn’t get that from Stowe, since your manners are barbaric!”

“Fuck you! You just like him because you think he looks like that Korean heartthrob you like.”

“How cute—are you jealous? Don’t worry, I have no interest in stealing Nick from your sister. What is he, a university professor?”

“He teaches history.”

Colette giggled. “A history professor and an economics professor. Can you imagine what their children will be like? I don’t know why your mother would ever feel threatened by these people.”

Carlton sighed. Deep down, he knew exactly why his mother was behaving the way she was. It really had nothing to do with Rachel and everything to do with his accident. She had never spoken to him about what he had done, but he knew that the stress of that tragedy had changed his mother irretrievably. She had always been short-tempered, but ever since London, she had become more irrational than he had ever known her to be. If he could just turn back the clock on that night. That fucking night that had ruined his life. He rolled over onto his side, facing away from Colette.

Colette could see that the black cloud had descended over Carlton again. It was happening so quickly these days. One minute they would be having the most brilliant time, and then suddenly he would just disappear into a pit of despair. Trying to snap him out of his funk, she unbuttoned the last few buttons of his shirt and began to trace circles around his navel. “I love it when you get all pouty and smoldering on me,” she whispered in his ear.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do.” Colette positioned her feet on both sides of Carlton’s torso and stood up over him. “Now, do you really think it’s true that President Obama was the last person to sleep in this bed?”

“This place is built like a fortress—all the presidents stay here,” Carlton said flatly.

“I bet Mr. Obama never had this view,” Colette said, sliding off her Kiki de Montparnasse panties in one slow, seductive motion.

Carlton stared up at her. “No, I don’t believe so.”

* * *