Putin On The Ritz の小説・ストーリー

Seven years later, The Ritz Hotel, Paris Calix Petrakis was bored. It was like a heavy mantle around his shoulders. a black cloud that spread outwards from his very depths, pervading everything. He was oblivious to the fact that he was surrounded by opulence. The opulence that came with being one of the wealthiest men in the world, in one of the world’s most exclusive hotels Hushed whispers encircled him. He tuned them out, the superlatives bouncing off him. They’d surrounded him for years, but he’d never courted them or needed any assurance.

**Hotel Ritz-Carlton, Savannah, Georgia** Mikhail lounged on the plush sofa in his hotel room, swirling a glass of whiskey as he watched the city lights flicker through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He had been expecting Lucifer to return any moment, and when he heard the door slam open, he knew immediately that things hadn’t gone as planned.

Well I don't even need makeup cause my eyelashes are very long and my lips are naturally pink. I went down through lift as my apartment is on 47th floor which is cozy and luxurious. Then I entered inside my car which is audi R8, my life. So I went down to Volkov hotel's, I don't know why he called me there I mean that hotel is 7 star luxury hotel and people say that hotel owner alexander volkov is an Underground mafia boss as well as worlds no.1 buisnessman along with the richest man on earth.

The Ritz-Carlton, Manhattan. A fucking fortress of power. Not just a place to sleep, but a temple where the city's wealthiest come to play, where deals are sealed over five-thousand-dollar bottles of Macallan, and where the scent of polished mahogany and money lingers in the air.

Axel asks I nod and pick up my clutch and keys and we head down to the limo. I slide in and the guys slide in behind me and we drive to a fancy resturant and there were reporters outside. Axel steps out and then Austin and then he offers me his hand and I step out and everyone goes crazy. I link my arm with Axel and then Austin and a female reporter stops us. "Ms. Petrova glad to see your back. Will you be opening the design business here?" SHe asks

She must be Catrin's grandma. "Then summer will be fine." She dipped her chin. "Yes," I muttered. Her soft eyes drifted over my shoulder. "Maximo Russo Moretti. Finally, I got to meet..." Dad cleared his throat, his gaze set on grandma. Grandma looked at him, something passed between them. Her gaze swiped over me before turning to Russo. "The youngest billionaire." She changed the topic. "Hello, Mrs Bourne." Russo said, taking a long step forward, he landed a soft kiss on her both cheeks. "So nice to meet you." He muttered.

She would have declined the invite if it was up to her because she was emotionally drained after her presentation, but Aunty Viv had personally called her, informing her the man had paid 15K for her time and she had to treat him like the VVIP that he was. Other than the fact that he was tantalisingly handsome, in that blond angelic kind of way, and the CEO of Aero Shipping, Natalie knew nothing about the Russian businessman, and he wasn't much of a talker. He'd spent the whole night smoking his Marlboros, drinking bourbon and blowing millions at the poker table. Andrei hadn't done anything to make her feel uncomfortable, but she still took the longest shower of her life after their date. The

Mitch After breakfast I went upstairs and took a quick shower. I put on my black Armani suit with a white dress shirt leaving the top two buttons open. I walked down to my office to grab some paperwork, went out the front door and got into my Rolls-Royce. I drove around to the back of the compound to my private airstrip where Jax and eight of my security guys were already waiting. I got out of the car and walked up the stairs of the plane. We each took a seat and Jax told the pilot to take off. I was flying to Newark to have a meeting with a Russian enforcer named Anatoly. He approached me several months ago on behalf of his boss Ivankov. I've heard of this boss before; he and his son Viktor

Fifteen minutes later, our five cars parked before the Haydens nightclub. I was suspicious when we passed through the huge gate and none of the guards stopped us. When I got out of the car, my eyes involuntarily looked up at Luca’s VIP suite. Then, I saw him there, standing on the balcony, looking down at us, a cigarette in his hand. He had started smoking too much. “Miss Russetti,” the club manager approached us before we even got inside. “Happy to have you here. Your fiancé is in the VIP presidential suite.”

———— The launch came fast. Within seventy-two hours, the venue was secured, the press invited, and the Bratva—led by Sergei Ivanov himself were flying in from Moscow. I had a name for the new company: Romano Global Holdings. Clean. Sharp. A symbol of the man I was becoming… or trying to. That night, the ballroom buzzed with quiet energy and curiosity. Crystal chandeliers lit the room in soft, broken light, casting gold reflections across the shiny marble floors and glass walls. The smell of expensive lilies mixed with strong cologne and the fizz of champagne.