The Scent and The Siren ✔️

// 11

1 week later...

St. Moritz, Switzerland

Deep in the Alps in the Engadine Valley, the snow-capped mountain peaks are providing a dramatic mise-en-scène to the revelry below as the charity snow polo match by my mother is into full-action on a frozen lake. I'm inside one of the many cozy and decadent VIP tents surrounded by women swathed in extravagant furs and men in their designer trench enjoying Perrier-Jouët flowing around as we watch elegant ponies galloping through the freezing temperatures, vision-blurring swirls of snow, and gusting winds.

The appeal of polo matches hosted by Jennifer Rothschild and Emma Bentley is the exclusivity - the mystique of dashing professional polo players with foreign accents, the crowd that consists of European, American, Indian, Middle Eastern royalties and Hollywood big leagues and business moguls; prized ponies, a glimpse of royal princes mid-chukker, the fancy showboating, land filled with private jets, Rolls Royces, Maybachs, and Maseratis; lots of expensive champagne, the bling, the latest haute couture on display, all in all, a lavish show of extravagant wealth.

"Why am I unable to see that socialite... Martina Rutherford. Isn't it what she calls herself?" Amelia questions, standing next to me. She is the only one from my friends who are engaging herself in doing exactly what she was invited for - watching the game.

Brian, Sergei, Claire, and Ethan are busy getting blitzed as usual in their hotel suite; Selena couldn't make it due to her unavoidable work trip to Miami; Ian and Scarlet couldn't make it because the extreme cold could be an issue for their new-born baby. Lucas's jet was supposed to land early this morning, but he isn't here yet.

I called him and he told me he'll be here soon. Not sure how soon he meant. He almost never misses these charity matches, unlike his younger brother who chooses to not grace the events with his presence and sends a generous check instead. I'm sure he never does because he wants to avoid bumping into me. He used to be regular before we broke up and is a good polo player himself. I've seen him participating in other similar events.

My family is a great supporter of American equestrianism or equestrianism in general. Our sprawling properties regularly host polo event competitions on our property in the Hamptons, Roundwood, Cotswolds, LA, St. Tropez, Cape Town, or Monaco and snow polo across the majestic French Alps like Val d'Isère, Megève, and Courchevel; Aspen, and of course, here in St. Moritz.

Almost by the law of blood, every person in the Rothschild clan is an avid polo player. I remember being gifted my own mallet by the Crown Prince of the Emirate of Abu Dhabi when I was four and then one gifted to my brother by then the President of the United States while we were being groomed to participate in our family's favorite pastime.

"God, that sounds so antediluvian. Does she even live in the same year as us to be labeling herself that?" I cringe, dragging a deep puff of cigarette as I continue watching the match.