By Vladimir Nabokov の小説・ストーリー

Unless Vladimir has changed in the meantime, it's not so much like him to play with maids, especially if it's a human, a meal. He frowned again, deciding to dig a little deeper. “I see… your maid is exceptionally beautiful, this is the first time I have seen such a beautiful woman…” He smiled, not finishing his sentence as the air around him boiled with intense heat. Vladimir had a dark and murderous look and his fingers on the table cracked the noble wood of the furniture. His servant, isn't it? He does not know what she means to him, but for Flavian, it is obvious.

“Because….I want him.” Hello, my lovely readers. First of all THANK YOU so much for your love and support to VLADIMIR. It really means a lot to me. I know it took me a long time to finish this book but trust me, I was more in a hurry than you all to complete it but circumstances didn’t let me. Life has been very difficult recently with my health issues, but still I managed to write, even if it’s 3 in the night. But again they say hard work always pays off. ‘Vladimir’ has won second place in a Mafia contest and it’s all because of you all. THANK YOU!

As if reading my mind, Nikolai turned to me and smiled. “I'm here”, He said and I smiled back. We got to Mr Vladimir study and Mazhordom Sergei was at the door, he showed a slight bow to Nikolai and knocked lightly on the door before opening, Nikolai and I walked in. As we entered Mr. Vladimir's study, I couldn't help but feel a sense of power and control emanating from him. His aura was like a strong force that filled the room. The room had big bookshelves that went up to the ceiling, filled with old books with gold writing on them.

I eye it suspiciously before opening it. Violet, I am the type of person to hide things. I am quiet and I am not the kind to show emotions. I hope you find this room to your liking and decorate it to your hearts content. I hope we can at least be cordial with one another as I have not feelings for you at this time. Your truly, Anthony

“Closing your account. Goodness me. Such a finality I hear in those words. Are you sure you wouldn’t like that drink?” “Quite sure. I had one before I came out and it’s made my head a bit groggy.” “Then I’ll just pour one for myself.” Vladimir got up and poured a generous drink and as he returned he smiled at Ivor like a kindly old uncle and raised his finger. “You should stick to Vodka. Much more pure.” “Thank you for your advice. Now, have you heard what I said to you?” Vladimir nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “Oh yes, yes, I heard everything.” He paused. “Now, perhaps you would like to listen while I talk. When you read your father’s diary, did you come across anything about your b

Ivana The video scandal exploded across every major news site by mid-morning. Headlines screamed variations of the same frantic narrative: Mystery Woman at Voss Estate—Merger in Jeopardy? The footage was so blurry that my face remained hidden, but the location was unmistakable. The Voss Estate’s distinctive marble entrance and dramatic coastal backdrop made it impossible to deny.

He said, and I nodded in thanks. “This is beautiful.” I said, running my finger over one of the book cases. A book, the Wolves of the Medici, made me raise an eyebrow as I pulled it out of its case. This wasn’t one that I heard of before, but I could tell that it was a vintage one, maybe an old one. “History book about Medici wolves?” I asked, and Viktor nodded.

Jade got carried away burying her nose into the older man's neck and inhaling. -You smell good- he murmured. -It's not right for you to tell me that when I've been picking up a place all the time that is dirtier than the whole house put together- Vladek wanted to smile, but the condition of the study was truly reprehensible. There were more documents than in the entire library, in addition to curtains that he had already drawn but that had stored the dust, not letting it out.

There are days when I adore you just a little more than a human being can adore. -Vladimir Nabokov. |A L E E Z A| Perched on the cool kitchen counter, I observed Kirill's graceful movements as he navigated my kitchen with ease. The aroma of spicy jambalaya wafted through the air, adding a layer of warmth to the room. Kirill had arrived at my apartment straight from the airport, claiming he is hungry. I offered to cook, but he dismissed my attempt with a simple statement: "It's not your responsibility to feed me." I agreed, it most definitely is not.

He saw the faint, desperate print of her small shoe where she had stood her ground. He walked over to the open door of the master bathroom, his footsteps heavy and uneven, and found the evidence that confirmed his terror: the forgotten, small tin of prenatal vitamins on the counter. Vladimir Volkov, the Don of the Russian Mafia, the man who had faced down armies and engineered global conflicts, stood alone in the empty, bloodied heart of his fortress. He was surrounded by the bodies of the men his wife had fought, but the two precious lives he lived for, Isabella and their twins, were gone.