Alexei Shostakov Novels & Stories

President enticed him using the highest position as thee chief of staff, but the cold and aloof Jude rejected totally. This same Jude was the one whom Alexis was able to exchanged blow with and still remained standing. therefore the security trying to stopped Alexis from advancing towards the restaurant, looked to be the biggest joke ever knew and heard, because Alexis just dodge all the men as they all make attempt to stopped her, the men all appeared like they were all slow as a snail to Alexis.

“I just spent nine hours removing a glioblastoma from the motor cortex. Zero deficits. But please, continue your little plumbing project.” “Plumbing project?” I glance up at the gallery. Mistake. Alexei leans against the glass like he’s watching theater instead of surgery. Tall, dark-haired, those sharp Slavic features that belong on magazine covers. Even in surgical scrubs, he looks like money. Because he is money. Morozov Oil. Three generations of Moscow elite. He’s also—I force the thought away. Not relevant. Not professional. Definitely not something I should be thinking about while knuckle-deep in someone’s chest cavity.

I was sure, from her sharp aura and the way she looked down on us, that she was the Queen. Still, she wasn’t the real danger here. Besides the King, the dark, sharp look from the man across from us had me tense. Patriarch Vasiliev. The host of the party, because up here I realized this whole mansion was his and the King had given him the honor of letting him throw the party. I think this was one of the chances Lorenzo missed by going to save me. Of course, as the host and the one best at kissing the King’s boots, the business conversations went to Alpha Vasiliev first.

Bloodshed. ***

“Especially since you’ve clearly already lost.” Susan widened her eyes, unsure whether to laugh or disappear. Alexei sighed but kept his tone light. “Susan, this is Aleksandr Volkov. A laboratory accident with excess charm and zero filter.” “Pleasure, Susan,” Aleksandr said, leaning slightly in a playful bow. “Call me Sasha. Everyone who survives my presence for more than five minutes earns that right.” She smiled, a bit awkward. “Pleasure… Sasha.” “See?” He looked at Alexei with a smug smile. “Five minutes. Didn’t even need to try hard.”

"They became loose ends." His gaze locked onto mine. "And loose ends have a nasty habit of ruining carefully laid plans." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What still amazes me..." His smile turned mocking.."...is that none of it ever reached you." He studied my face, enjoying every second. "The great Alexei Kozlov." "The man everyone feared." He laughed again. "You knew absolutely nothing." His voice dropped almost to a whisper. "Not even Viktor." He shook his head in disbelief.."I always heard Viktor was the genius."

He greet Alex bowing down a little. “I bring someone to meet with you" Alex says to the man. Then he notice me. He would be almost same age as Alex. He have dark gray hair with same colour eyes. “Oh is that..” He trails of. “Hello I'm Sophia..Dè Sokolov. It’s nice to meet you” I says bowing a little politely. “Hello Mrs. Sokolov I’m Louise Dekinson. I’m sir alexei's P.A. It is nice to meet with you too!” Oh and call me by my name.” Louise says.

Jonathan Byrne Sokolov. I swallowed and closed my eyes. Shaking my head, I opened my eyes and looked again. Jonathan Byrne Sokolov.

Alice is a noble in Russia, er, a former noble to be exact after she ran away from her family, Her father is Vladimir, one of the princes and war generals of Russia who lived hundreds of years ago. Outside Russia Vladimir is better known as "VladThe Impaler', because one of his favorite activities is torturing his prisoners of war by sticking a spear from the anus of his victim to penetrate the shoulder or head and then showing it to everyone. Sometimes it took days before the victim finally died. Of course, he did it hundreds of years ago when sadistic things like that were normal as punishment. Now He does it more carefully so as not to attract human attention.

Something I should have remembered and found before his lousy bloodhounds. My legs are numb from sitting in a chair for a long time. I threw off the blanket and hobbled to the dressing table with a laptop and a folder marked in large letters: Zotova K.V. Zotov. Not Stanislavskaya, not Angelova, but Zotova. Zotova Kira Valerievna There was nothing significant in the medical record, and I did what Boris probably expected from me - I opened my laptop and, having launched the Internet, entered my name into the search.