A Gentleman In Moscow Movie の小説・ストーリー

Aaron then turned to Alessandro and said, “Hi, old man. I like your look although you look like a bad guy from the movies.” Aaron’s words had almost everyone in the house gasp audibly. Adrian spoke, “I am really sorry about it. He has been pampered a lot.” Alessandro gave a reassuring smile to Adrian, “That is all okay.” He then turned to Aaron, “Hi, young man. By the way, I am a bad guy. I am the Don.” “Oh really. Would you like to play a game with me?” Aaron bet while showing off the gun in his hand.

That was all Tom needed. “Ah, a fan of modern art, are we?” Tom kept the conversation going, knowing full well the device was diligently siphoning data from Grossman’s phone—their earlier handshake exchanging more than false pleasantries. “Your taste surprises me, Mikhail. But then again, so does your choice of friends.” He gestured with the gun, encompassing the remaining henchman who seemed hesitant to advance. “These gentlemen don’t strike me as the appreciative crowd for the avant-garde.”

Mister Molotov comes to a standstill in front of his niece and peers down at her with a dismal look. "Uncle.." Rachael acknowledges with a nod and slightly curtsies. Mister Molotov begins in a thick Russian accent. "Take good care of him, I didn't expect him to dwell on a woman this long." With that final statement, he heads for his limo. ___

MOSCOW RUSSIA, (MIKHAIL'S PENTHOUSE) Laughter echoed through the penthouse as Baby’s Day Out played on the TV. Donatella was curled beside Mikhail on the couch, giggling uncontrollably. “I love this movie,” she said between laughs. “I’ll never get tired of it.” Mikhail wasn’t looking at the TV anymore—only her. The way her head tilted back when she laughed, the glow in her eyes… it pulled him in like gravity. She noticed his gaze. “What?” she asked, smiling suspiciously.

“I hope this isn’t how you normally get laid. It’s exhausting.” Ahumored brow rose. “It’s a first for me, but thankfully, I’mopen to new things.” It was so nice he found the situation amusing while my heart was close to stopping. “I’m sure there are a number of nice women in Moscow who will accommodate you for a decent price.” He watched me, shadowing each of my slow steps. “If I wanted another, it would take a single peach emoji text to have a woman here begging me to fuck her ass.”

" Russell's gaze softened. It was him who told her the meaning of mangoes, she still remembers. He was looking at her on the stage when suddenly a figure blocked his line of sight. Jayden stood straight in front of him, blocking his view of Chelsea perfectly. Russell’s lips drooped down slightly. Jayden seemed to smile and said, "Mr. Murillo, Mr. Caldwell, quite leisurely of you to come here for the film's opening ceremony?" Russell glanced at him and said, "Isn't Mr. Denton equally leisurely? With business not doing well, you have plenty of time to wander around?"

It was not really hidden, but it was positioned in a way where those in the normal club could not see what was happening. This section had a glass, that can be activated with a click of a button and can also become tinted. Volkov was busy ducking a girl, with her tits out. He saw me approaching, and smirked. “ Gambino, good to see you I can't help but say your city has good forms of entertainment.” He said as his hands went deeper to somewhere out of my view. “ It seems as though I have been to nice to you Russian rats” I said calmly.

“Touché, Mrs Sokolov.” ____ A. Gupta

(Translation: We got the information--) "Тсс, присутствующий здесь джентльмен может понять, о чем мы говорим, и я не хочу, чтобы мои личные дела были раскрыты." the man again said in Russian to his bodyguard making him gaze at Ace and clipped his mouth shut. (Translation: Shh, the gentleman present here can understand what we are saying and I don't want my personal matters to be revealed.)

the gentleman replies "I am Francesco Ramires, the butler of the house." "Nice to meet you, Mr. Ramires" I introduce him with a smile. "I'll change your plate. Do you have a preference?" "I really like pasta." "I'll have them prepare it for you." Boris didn't seem to mind, he just ate while looking at his iPad. He appeared to be working. "Mr. Mikhailovich" he looks at me. "Why do you insist on calling me that?" "May I know why this woman chooses what I eat, Boris?" I emphasize his name.