Crazy Rich Asians

“Trapped? I’m just on holiday with Rachel, Ah Ma. There is nothing to be concerned about,” Nick said defensively, annoyed that Cassandra had been gossiping about him.

“That’s exactly what I told her. I told her that you are a good boy, and that you would never do anything without my blessing. Cassandra must be bored out of her mind in the English countryside. She’s letting her imagination run as wild as her silly horses.”

“Would you like me to bring Rachel over, Ah Ma, so that you can get to know her better?” Nick ventured.

“You know I won’t be able to stand all the craning necks if that happens. Why don’t you both just come to stay next week? It’s so silly to be staying at a hotel when your bedroom is waiting right here.”

Nick was thrilled to hear these words from his grandmother. He had her seal of approval now. “That would be wonderful, Ah Ma.”

In a corner of the darkened billiard room, Jacqueline was in the midst of a heated phone conversation with her daughter, Amanda, in New York. “Stop making excuses! I don’t give a damn what you told the press. Do what you have to do, but just make sure you’re back next week,” she fumed.

Jacqueline ended her call, looking out the window at the moonlit terrace. “I know you’re there, Oliver,” she said sharply, not turning around. Oliver emerged from the shadowy doorway and approached slowly.

“I can smell you from a mile away. You need to lay off the Blenheim Bouquet — you’re not the Prince of Wales.”

Oliver arched his eyebrows. “Aren’t we getting testy! Anyway, it’s quite clear to me that Nicholas is completely smitten. Don’t you think it’s a little too late for Amanda?”

“Not at all,” Jacqueline replied, carefully rearranging her hair. “As you yourself have often said, timing is everything.”

“I was talking about investing in art.”

“My daughter is an exquisite piece of art, is she not? She belongs only in the finest collection.”

“A collection you failed to become part of.”

“Fuck you, Oliver.”

“Chez toi ou chez moi?” Oliver naughtily arched an eyebrow as he sauntered out of the room.

In the Andalusian courtyard, Rachel allowed her eyes to close for a moment. The strums of the Chinese zither created a perfect melody with the trickling waters, and the flowers in turn seemed to be choreographing their bloom to the mellifluous sounds. Every time a breeze blew, the copper lanterns strung against the evening sky swayed like hundreds of glowing orbs adrift in a dark ocean. Rachel felt like she was floating along with them in some sybaritic dream, and she wondered if life with Nicholas would always be like this. Soon, the tan huas began to wilt just as swiftly and mysteriously as they had bloomed, filling the night air with an intoxicating scent as they shriveled into spent, lifeless petals.

5 Astrid and Michael

SINGAPORE

Whenever her grandmother’s parties ran late, Astrid would normally opt to spend the night at Tyersall Park. She preferred not to wake Cassian if he was sleeping soundly, and she would head for the bedroom (just opposite from Nick’s) that had been set aside for her frequent visits since she was a little girl. Her adoring grandmother had created an enchanted emporium for her, commissioning whimsical hand-carved furniture from Italy and walls painted with scenes from her favorite fairy tale, “The Twelve Dancing Princesses.” Astrid still loved the occasional night spent in this childhood bedroom, cosseted by the most fantastical dolls, stuffed animals, and tea sets that money could buy.

Tonight, however, Astrid was determined to get home. Even though it was well past midnight, she swept Cassian into her arms, buckled him into his child seat, and headed for her apartment. She was desperate to know if Michael was back “from work” yet. She was kidding herself in thinking she could just look the other way while Michael carried on. She was not like those wives. She was not going to be a victim, like Eddie’s wife, Fiona. All these weeks of speculation and uncertainty had become a crushing weight on her, and she had to resolve this issue once and for all. She needed to see her husband with her own eyes. She needed to smell him. She needed to know whether there truly was another woman. Although, if she was being brutally honest with herself, she had known the truth ever since those four simple words flashed across his iPhone screen. This was the price she had to pay for falling for Michael. He was a man whom all women found irresistible.

SINGAPORE, 2004

The first time Astrid laid eyes on Michael, he was in a camouflage-print speedo. The sight of anyone over the age of ten in one of these banana hammocks was usually repellant to Astrid’s aesthetic sensibilities, but when Michael strutted down the runway in his Custo Barcelona speedo, his arm around an Amazonian girl clad in a sheer black Rosa Cha bathing suit and emerald necklace, Astrid was transfixed.