He wasn't, strictly speaking, an industry party type, but he did okay. Marginally better than Victor, who'd done marginally better himself, since Georgios Kattalakis' princess had stepped into their little place. Zoë could gather a crowd around her like bees to honey - particularly dangerous bees with particularly deep pockets.

Business was good, he had to say that much for it all. And that wasn't all that was good lately, Ben thought as his eyes lit on a slim figure in scarlet across the room. That was another woman who could play a room like a violin. He'd thought that the first time he'd laid eyes on Ms. Rita James, lately of upstate New York. At least that's what she said, and the only reason Ben had to disbelieve was that everyone was telling some sort of lie. It put them all on even footing.

"We should get you a cocktail," he said as he came up behind her and eyed her glass of wine. It had bubbles. Fine for champagne, not so much for pinot noir, but their hosts weren't known for being wine connoisseurs, to say the least. "I'm fair certain they'd have a hard time ruining a daiquiri."