entrance unnoticed by the press. I took a seat in a box hidden by velvet curtains. From here the whole hall was in the palm of my hand.
I saw Preston. He stood in the center of the room shining like a polished samovar. He wore a tuxedo from Brioni, bought undoubtedly with money stolen from the company. Next to him, Tiffany—in a scarlet dress with a continue reading …
