“I invited Boris Tirov to the party tonight, at a time when I thought he would be the new guy on the lot.”

“Uh-oh,” Gala said quietly.

“I’ve tried to reach him, but he’s not at home, and he’s not answering his cell.”

“He must be smart enough not to show up tonight,” Dino said.

“Don’t count on it,” Gala threw in.

“Well,” Dino said, “if he does show, Stone, as host, can just explain to him that he’s no longer welcome.”

“Gee, thanks, Dino,” Stone said.

“I don’t want to be anywhere nearby when that happens,” Gala said.

“Is he likely to make a fuss?” Stone asked.

Gala just rolled her eyes.

Stone excused himself for a moment and went into the living room, where he picked up a phone and called the head of hotel security.

“Yes, Mr. Barrington?”

“I’m having a party tonight at the house, and I’ve had word that there may be an unruly guest.”

“We can take care of that. I’ll send a couple of men over.”

“Plainclothes, please, and ask them to handle it as discreetly as possible.”

“Of course. Our people are good at that. May I have the gentleman’s name?”

“Boris Tirov.”

“Ah, yes, we had to remove that gentleman from the bar a couple of weeks ago. He took a swing at the film critic of the L.A. Times. Apparently, the man didn’t like his movies enough. I’ll have the main gate warn me when he arrives.”

Stone thanked the man and returned to his guests.

—

By seven o’clock most of the guest list had arrived, and servers were bringing platters from the kitchen to the buffet tables set up by the pool. Stone was in a conversation with Billy Barnett, who had become an important part of Peter and Ben’s production company, when he glanced toward the hedge separating the pool from a guesthouse beyond and saw Boris Tirov step past the hedge, a drink already in his hand. “Oh, shit,” he said.

“What’s wrong?” Billy asked.

“A disinvited guest has just snuck into the party.” He looked around for the security men and saw them on the opposite side of the group, where one would expect guests to arrive.

“Would you like me to speak to the gentleman?” Billy asked.

“No, I’ll handle it myself.” Stone set his drink on a table and walked around the pool, meeting Tirov before he could reach the crowd. “Good evening, Mr. Tirov,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Stone Barrington.”

Tirov brushed the hand aside. “Ah,” he said, “the guy who torpedoed my deal at Centurion today.”

“You’ve been misinformed,” Stone replied. “I wasn’t at the board meeting this morning.”

“You lying piece of shit,” Tirov said, swaying slightly. “I know who you are and why you killed my deal.”