Boris Pavlikovsky Novels & Stories

Hilda insisted. "Suit yourself," Boma responded with a shrug as Hilda ended the call. She then ordered a fresh bottle of vodka. As the waiter brought her drink along with a note, Boma's curiosity was piqued. "Who's it from?" she inquired, surprised. "Someone in the bar," the waiter replied before departing. Intrigued, Boma opened the note and read its content. Neatly written in cursive handwriting were the words: Welcome to Wilberforce Island University. I am Donovan. Leave the question of who I am for now and meet me in the VIP Section. Now.

It was calm and peaceful but almost like a whisper like there was something stuck in the speaker's throat making their voice come out as if, along with white noise. The both of them turned around to the speaker, it was none other than Jelena Savage herself! The Coalition Chieftess of the Als race!

"This is Javier Pérez, the Columbian Mafia leader." Javier. The man she was looking at. He's not as old as the other men here. Maybe in his mid thirties. It seemed like he hadn't payed much attention to her until the introduction. His eyes checked her out quickly before they exchanged a handshake, both aware of the attraction to one another. My father continues, "Next is Conan Fitzgerald, the Irish Mob boss. Boris Kolev rules in Bulgaria, and Simon Kaminski is the leader of the Polish Pruszków mafia."

Michal Borisych - in the past, the head of the transport department of a factory, a good mechanic who knows a lot about a wide variety of automotive equipment; retired and now headed the center for sales, repair and maintenance of German cars. Michal Borisych has already delivered an original, but somewhat pretentious introduction and prepared to give the floor to the top manager, Monika Vardanovna, but there was some hitch at the presidium table. - Which one is Shpilin? - Asked Monika Vardanovna Mikhal Borisych, pretending not to know what the mentioned worker looks like, although she saw with her own eyes that Sergei Nikolaevich Shpilin was not among those present at the meeting. - Are we

Zariah tells us. "You know, you're kind of weird," Brynn observes. "Noted." Looking out the window to where Zariah had pointed to the girl she was talking about, I noticed those dark features about her, that honestly made me a little envious. The sleekness of her hair is something I would never achieve on my own. "Watch out from Alani Prelich over there...Her father is the commander of one of the most notorious armies in the Power Pack," Zariah warns me, and I shiver, as she glances up, so I can see the darkness of her eyes.

Roel scoffed, turning to the crowd with a smug expression. “Director Boris Lukin and Director Roman Belsky are from Petrov Petroleum’s research and development division,” he declared. “Look them up. You’ll find them everywhere.” Phones came out immediately. Murmurs followed. “They’re listed in multiple articles—” “I see them—photos with CEO Vasili Wright—” “They’re legitimate…” The confirmations spread quickly across the room. "How dare you question the representatives of the Petrovs, Cassie.” Mirriam’s voice cut in, sharp with disdain as she crossed her arms.

“Just keep me posted if there is anything that I need to know, and I still want you to keep an eye on the Francesco case. I don’t know where Killian is considering that he left Los Angeles long before we did, but he won’t be too far. If anything, right now, the man is back for revenge.” “Yes, boss, I will do so.” Viktor said, and Alvize nodded at the man through the mirror before both hung up. He turned his attention to me and I raised an amused eyebrow, waiting for an explanation on what he planned. However, he simply turned the stereo on. Music played in the background, but I could tell that he was making sure to keep the tone low enough for the two of us to have a conversation. It was som

Two men stood next to Victor, and their presence sent a spurt of frozen adrenaline through his system. To his right, there sat Dmitri Volkov, the notorious "Tsar of Siberian Gas." The granite-jawed mogul with a track record for crushing competitors with the tacit support of the Kremlin. He was oligarchy personified—Politically unstoppable, pitiless, and wallowing in mineral wealth.