Putin On The Ritz Novels & Stories

Emelda's POV The fancy ballroom at the Ritz-Carlton sparkled like a jewelry box. Crystal lights hung from the ceiling, throwing colorful reflections across tables covered in silk and women wearing expensive dresses. Champagne glasses clinked together as everyone celebrated Carter Enterprises going public, and the air buzzed with excitement about new money and fresh success. I stood in the corner like a ghost, watching Allen control the room from behind the microphone. He looked amazing in his custom tuxedo, every bit the successful boss who had officially become worth forty-seven million dollars tonight.

In a brief second and as she tried to direct her focus back to the television, she found herself occupying the body of top American actor, Rick Ritz at his New York penthouse! What! Hollywood top actor, Rick Ritz, had gotten out of the shower on a regular Friday night, the 9th of October. He had a long night of parties with his friends and co-stars, a party he looked forward to. Not because it promised to be fun but because his co-star and Ex-wife, Samantha Ritz was going to be there too. And he had every intention of coming back to his penthouse with her.

“Don’t you see? If I don’t carry it, I’m nothing but his trophy again. I can’t go back to that.” His grip tightened slightly. “Then we carry it together.” She gave the smallest nod. Back in the penthouse, Russo outlined his play. “We’ll host a gala,” he said, pacing. “A celebration of the port expansion. Councillors, bankers, press—all under one roof. And Livia will be there.” Dante frowned. “She won’t come willingly.”

There was a happy, banter-filled atmosphere and when I mentioned our next location was a casino a cheer rang out. As they piled into the casino one of the younger men, Robin Pettin, millionaire technology investor came to stand by my side, his breath billowing into clouds on the cold night air. “Miss Wilding, I must say you look spectacular tonight.” “Ah thank you Mr Pettin, perhaps a bit overdressed…” “Nonsense, the only thing missing are some diamonds in my opinion,” and he took my hand, turning it to see the inside of my wrist. He stroked a finger along it, “now this arm needs some diamonds upon it urgently.”

ANA I take Dmitri’s hand as I climb out of the limo, trying not to faceplant in these ridiculous heels. Nothing says “Bratva wife” like eating pavement at a fancy party, right? The night air hits me, and I resist the urge to shiver. Next time I’m bringing a jacket. Or better yet, staying home with N*****x and sweatpants. Dmitri insisted on being “fashionably late,” which I’m pretty sure is code for “I wanted to make an entrance.” I half expect a spotlight to shine on us as we cross the street.

Putting the helmet down where the broken vase had been, he glared at me with an appraising look. - I'm not going anywhere, - I broke the protracted silence, - so you can be free. Astakhov narrowed his eyes, dragging on his cigarette, the ashes from which fell right on the floor. "Boris asked me to accompany you," he answered with an emphasis. - Where? - I did not understand, feeling a slight chill on my back. - Chateau. "Chateau" was one of the restaurants owned by Boris, and was rightfully considered one of the best in the city. In addition, he was also famous for his privacy, providing his clients with the opportunity to retire in remote booths with VIP service, which even included calling

It looked as though Royce and Hans had stepped into the past, to a place of old-world opulence. Two men stood at the far end of the pool, fully dressed. Dimitri Razin wore an expensive suit, looking intimidating as fuck. A man in a leather jacket with dark-brown hair had to be Razin's contact, Barinov. Royce was a little pissed that he and Hans were practically naked while the Russians weren't, but perhaps that was by design. He saw Hans's eyes dart between the shadows into the nooks and crannies behind the pillars. "Devereaux," Dimitri said with a chuckle, his gaze moving between Royce and Hans. "A little underdressed for an arms deal, aren't we?"

I'm not sure he thought it through—did he really think he could pull that off? Hugo sat down, surrounded by admiration. He asked casually, "Is that so? Where is he? Has he left already?" At the mention of this, Ivan's laughter intensified. "Hugo, I'm sure you'd laugh, too. That guy held a straight face the whole time as he told a server to bring him to Zenith Pavilion! I bet he only found out about it by chance and knows nothing about the reservation system. Isn't he such a joke?" Ruth added, enjoying the mockery, "When he returned to Avesburgh, he rented a Rolls-Royce Phantom. Sasha saw through it immediately, but her father was adamant that it reflected his success.

About how I ended up engaged to one of the most dangerous mafia bosses in Moscow. Thankfully, he didn’t ask. I wasn’t sure I was ready to answer. soon, we arrived at kai’s hotel, The Ritz-Carlton, one of the most expensive hotels in Moscow costing over $700 per night. The moment we stepped into Kai’s hotel suite, I barely spared a glance at the lavish surroundings. I was too tired to care about the ridiculous luxury of it all. Instead, I walked straight to the nightstand and set the bag of supplies down.

Now that she’d agreed to help Mia with counseling, repaying the favor felt appropriate. Zachary didn’t object, simply giving a nod to the driver. “Let’s go.” St Ritz Hotel was one of the most exclusive hotels in the city, known for its elite clientele and steep prices, where a single dinner could easily cost tens of thousands. The black Cayenne came to a smooth stop at the hotel entrance. Despite Zachary’s understated choice of vehicle, the distinguished “8888” license plate immediately caught the attention of the valet, who hurried over to open the door with respectful enthusiasm.