The Wedding Guests

The Hotel Du Cap was blocking the sun. Chic, classic and eternal, a sight unchanged for more than a century. 

The Grande Allée was rolling all the way down to the glistening Mediterranean Sea, as it always had. But to me, the real treasure was the pine forest grounds that protect this jewel from prying eyes. Grand, fantastic trees, older than the property itself. 

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Stephanie and I had met at the airport. We were fresh, bright, delighted to see each other, and curious about the most interesting festivities that had brought us here. 

I myself was overjoyed to have left behind a miserably grey British spring. 

Someone needs to say it: that day at the Nice Airport, we both looked like the picture of the cool French woman.

Only a few days prior, Stephanie had invited me as her companion to a wedding she herself had been invited to at the last minute, and that was all too intriguing to decline. It was to be one of these billionaire weddings of the century that we all love to hate.

The astute obse…