At eight o'clock in the evening, the Palisades estate was already teeming with guests.
On the cliffside terrace, amid psychedelic lights and music, David Copperfield—who had skyrocketed to fa in recent years—followed a series of dazzling magic tricks by conjuring from beneath a silk cloth a birthday cake taller than a person, its candles already lit. The chorus of well-wishes rose in harmony with the brilliant fireworks exploding in the sky nearby.
The fireworks extravaganza lasted a full half hour, pushing the party's atmosphere to its zenith right after the birthday song.
Since his rebirth, nearly every party Simon had attended served so ulterior motive—whether celebration, networking, business dealings, or PR. This one, however, was pure revelry, a lavish whirl of indulgence.
Endless drinks, an array of sumptuous foods, dazzling fireworks, captivating performances, pulsating music, sizzling beauties...
The air itself seed saturated with a decadent haze of hedonism.
Janet had organized the party, and Simon hadn't ddled in a single detail—he'd simply signed a check for ten million dollars beforehand. In 1988, that sum could buy a top-tier mansion on New York's Fifth Avenue, and every penny went into this bash.
Wandering through the crowd at one point, Simon's mind drifted to Gatsby—the great Gatsby.
Yet he knew full well that he was no Gatsby.
Gatsby's dream had shattered.
His ambitions were only just beginning.
After ten o'clock that night, the older guests and those with work the next day began trickling out. Hundreds of n and won still lingered on the estate, and the party would rage on through the dawn.
In the mansion's front yard, Simon and Janet escorted Disney Studios CEO Michael Eisner and his wife to the exit. Spotting the frequent cara flashes beyond the wall, Simon waved over a waiter and instructed, "Have so food sent out there—no alcohol, though. That way, we might earn a few kind words in tomorrow's papers."
The waiter nodded with a smile and was about to depart when Janet waved him off. "Stay put," she said. "I'll handle the arrangents myself."
The pair headed back to the villa. Janet hurried to the kitchen, where a team of chefs worked nonstop to supply the party with food.
Simon wove through the villa's throng and erged once more into the still-raucous backyard.
The swimming pool directly opposite the villa's back door shimred with multicolored ripples under the lights. Simon chatted with those who approached him, eventually finding himself at the pool's edge without realizing it, regretting that this glittering scene lacked a few rmaids to complete it.
Seeing Simon at the poolside, montarily alone, several tall won nearby sauntered over to say hello.
Simon eyed the familiar face with a mole at the corner of her mouth. Without waiting for introductions, he smiled and gestured toward the pool. "Fancy a swim?"
The won all froze.
The one with the mole recovered first and countered, "Simon, are you joining us?"
Simon shook his head. "I'll watch you swim."
"Hehe, then we're staying dry."
"How about this," Simon proposed. "If I can na each of you, you'll take a dip and swim for ."
The won paused again, exchanging glances, unsure whether to agree.
But Simon was already smiling as he pointed to the woman with the mole. "You're Cindy Crawford."
The won imdiately looked astonished. One of them said, "You must have spotted her earlier, Simon. Cindy's face is impossible to miss."
Simon turned to the blue-eyed speaker. "You're Helena Christensen, from Denmark."
The won let out another small gasp of surprise. Simon pressed on without pause, pointing to the other two. "You're Stephanie Seymour, and you—Paulina Porizkova. I have to say, you bear a striking resemblance to Audrey Hepburn. If I'm right, you're all signed with John Casablancas's Elite modeling agency."
Cindy Crawford, Stephanie Seymour, Paulina Porizkova, and Helena Christensen were among the most renowned supermodels of the nineties. Though they hadn't yet reached their peak fa, Simon recognized them all with ease.
Hearing Simon reel off their nas one by one, Cindy wore an expression of surprise tinged with subtle excitent, but she quipped, "Simon, you must have seen us in so magazine. And anyway, we didn't actually agree to anything."
Simon glanced at the other three won. "Cindy's welching on the deal. What about you?"
The other three nudged each other lightly, dissolving into giggles. Suddenly, Stephanie Seymour asked, "Simon, is there a reward if we go in?"
Simon nodded. "Of course."
Stephanie Seymour eyed the pool. "Do you have swimsuits here, then?"
Simon regarded their evening gowns and shook his head. "Nope. If you want to get in, you'll have to improvise."
With that, Simon stepped aside a few paces and settled into a lounge chair by the pool, smiling at the still-hesitant beauties. The won kept giggling, but Stephanie Seymour soon shot him a glance, her tone turning serious. "Mr. Westeros, don't forget your promise."
Her words barely out, Stephanie Seymour, still in her black evening gown, slowly descended from the pool's edge into the water. Many guests nearby noticed and turned to watch.
Stephanie paid no mind to the stares. Once fully subrged, she glided toward Simon like a true rmaid. Then, with bold flair, she slowly peeled off her black gown, scooped it from the water, and piled it at his feet. Leaning against the pool's edge, she giggled. "Simon, you wouldn't let a lady climb out of the pool without a stitch on, would you?"
The yard's lighting was soft, but from this close, Simon could clearly see that Stephanie's gown had concealed nothing underneath. Many others around the pool had obviously noticed too. A few gentlen edged closer instinctively, though decorum kept them from crowding Simon's pri vantage point.
Seeing Stephanie in the water—and Simon's face registering clear checkmate—the other three shed their reserve and followed suit.
Leaving a lasting impression on Simon Westeros—a young tycoon with boundless wealth, the clout to launch careers, and the rare bonus of striking good looks and physique—was sothing they had no qualms about.
Soon, all four won were in the water. The other three mimicked Stephanie, deliberately shedding their sodden gowns underwater and stacking them at Simon's feet by the poolside.
The once-serene pool, now graced by four rmaids, suddenly brimd with boundless allure.
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