They had dinner in their suite that evening, and the following day the women took the van and went shopping, while Stone talked with Joan and a few clients on the phone and Dino administered the NYPD from afar.

The following morning the new hotel began to fill with its first guests, all of whom had booked months ahead for the occasion. Because so many Los Angeleans had experienced the Bel-Air Arrington, there was a particularly large contingent from the film business, with many faces that Stone recognized but could not necessarily name.

One fact, though, registered with Stone instantly as he entered the grand ballroom, where dinner was being served: Boris Tirov was sitting at an all-Hollywood table, his eyes locked with Stone’s.

Stone immediately found Marcel. “At table number eight there is a man to whose presence I object,” he whispered in the Frenchman’s ear. “His name is Boris Tirov.”

Marcel whipped out a sheaf of papers from an inside pocket and consulted it. “Yes, it is here. Cine International Studios, an Italian company, bought the table months ago, to entertain Hollywood people, and Tirov is their guest. Why do you object to his presence?”

“He is Gala’s ex-husband, and he has been harassing her since their divorce. Is there any way to get him thrown out of here?”

“Not without insulting the studio,” Marcel replied. “Instead, I will assign a couple of security people to keep an eye on Tirov and see that he does not disturb you or your lady.”

“Thank you, Marcel.” Stone returned to table number one and his group. Only Marcel’s seat was empty, and he would join them when he could. From his seat, Stone had a good view of Tirov’s table. He seemed to be trying to attract Gala’s attention.

“Don’t look at Boris,” Stone said to her. “I’m sorry he’s here, but there’s nothing I can do about that. Security will keep an eye on him, though.”

“I would not give him the satisfaction of looking that way,” she replied.

Then the orchestra stopped playing, and the leader came to the microphone. “A very special request to honor a very special lady,” he said, and gave the orchestra a downbeat.

“Oh, God,” Gala said, keeping her smile fixed. “That’s the theme from Boris’s first film. He always referred to it as ‘our song.’”

“Just keep looking at me,” Stone said, “and ignore it.”

“Looking at you is always comforting,” she said.

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