He marveled at how she could keep him interested, even after what they had just done in bed. He managed to extricate himself and found them robes.
“Breakfast?” he asked.
“Eggs Benedict, please.”
Stone called Manolo and ordered the dish for both of them. They managed to get dressed before breakfast arrived, Charlene in a minidress she had tucked in her large handbag.
Dino joined them in the garden.
Charlene kissed him loudly on the ear. “Good morning, Dino,” she said.
“What’s that you say?” Dino asked, feigning deafness.
“Easy, you two,” Stone said. “Charlene, tell me about this guy who runs the Prince hedge fund.”
“His name is Prince,” she said.
“Just one name, like the singer?”
“First name, Terry. There are rumors about how he got the money to start the fund.”
“Tell me.”
“You remember, some years ago, there was a guy named Prince running a huge drug business based in the Colombian jungle, way up the Amazon?”
“Yeah, the Colombian army raided it, didn’t they?”
“Yes, and Prince was killed when he ran in front of a small airplane that was taking off.”
“So it’s not the same guy?”
“Terry is that guy’s younger brother,” she said. “Nobody’s been able to prove it, but it’s been talked around that his original money came out of that drug operation-a hundred million, or so. Then he got very lucky investing in films, two of them enormous worldwide hits that each took in over half a billion each. He used his profits to start the hedge fund and got a lot of Hollywood money invested with him. I had a couple of million in the fund, but I took it out shortly before the last market crash.”
“You’re a smart girl,” Stone said.
“No, I wasn’t smart; I invested in two films that I expected big things of.”
“How’d you do?”
“One made money, one flopped; I just about broke even.”
“Tell me more about Prince.”
“He started a hotel group and bought four or five superluxury hostelries around the country. He was hot after the Bel-Air, where you’ve stayed, but he got outbid.”
“What’s the word on him now?”
“Well, he’s left the drug money rumors behind him, and seems to be squeaky clean these days. He wants to put a new, super hotel on the Centurion property, along with some houses and condos and office buildings, sort of like a bigger, fancier Centurion City.”
“So he’s not interested in the studio as a business?”
“Apparently, the production end has never excited him; he just wants to make money.”
“Do you know him?” Stone asked.
“I didn’t until he went after Centurion; then he made a point of meeting me and pitching for my shares. He’s very charming and persuasive.”
“Is he the sort of guy who might kill to get his hands on Centurion’s property?”