Richard Osman Novels & Stories

“Arthur, you should get that checked.” Richard’s eyes narrowed as the old man looked at his nemesis with respect. “This needs to be sorted first, keeper.” “I’m the only one who gives orders here. You are nothing,” Richard seethed inside. His eyes skimmed over the man’s jeans, white polo, black sneakers… and the walking cane. He snickered. “I see you’ve too much time on your hands these days.” Limping slightly, the man stepped in front of his people. “I see you’ve grown more shameless, brother,” he said in a gravelly tone.

"The Richards mansion is just a burnt ghost house, why are you so much interested in it?", Mathew asked Alan. Matthew is a thirty year old drug dealer who had a long past collaboration with Alan Richards. The work was going well when Matthew suddenly today called up for a meet because he is interested in taking Richards mansion on rent for few days.

He smiles and continues to make coffee, calmly. —I already know WHO made you lose sleep. - says Richard, pouring a cup of coffee for me. He stares at me and says. — I don’t know what’s going on between you, but it must be something ... important. I am not to judge anyone, because I am not a saint, just enjoy this phase of freedom because it will pass, and one day will return to your life and miss what you did not... Richard was no saint: Despite being one step away from the altar, he always got involved with some volunteers and his newest achievement is the poor Aidê.

Again, all through the trip to work, all Isioma could ever think of was her love life and her past relationships. First was Richard, a thirty-four-year-old Nigerian man who she met at her Friend’s birthday party here in Houston, Texas. Richard was a tall, handsome, good-looking, assertive, and confident man. Though in his early thirties, Richard was young at heart, in looks, and spirit. Whenever her friends from Lagos visited her, they would always call Richard a teenager.

I patted his little head and ruffled his hair a little. I dropped my bag and provided a granola bar which I handed over to him. "Thank you,” he said full of smiles. I smiled back in return and nodded twice. "I'm Wayne,” Black dude said and extended his hand for a shake. "I'm Richard,” said taking his hand, “Richard Williams of the United States Special Forces at your service" I added military like, standing at attention. A gasp escaped Nick's mouth as he looked at me with surprise written all over his face. Yeah, the show wasn’t necessary, but I felt a necessity to make the environment more fun.

10:17 PM. The Carter Mansion. Richard’s Study. Richard sat alone in the dark, the brandy untouched on the desk. Elizabeth had gone upstairs without another word. No slammed doors. No dramatics. Just silence—the kind that settled into the bones and refused to leave. Richard loosened his tie, his fingers clumsy. His reflection in the glass cabinet looked older. Smaller. Like a man who had finally run out of excuses. His phone vibrated on the desk. Damian Cross.

We just needed enemies on Zahur’s side of the map, and since we couldn’t buy them at the store, homemade would do just as well. Mostafa sighed. “Khaled Osman is the son of an oil baron and a woman rumored to be a princess. He has more money than he knows what to do with, and everything he has that’s liquid, he spends on women. I deal with him often.” “So, your work isn’t exclusive.” I nodded. “Perfect. Most games on this side of the ocean are small enough that all the big players are acquainted. What about over there?” “Small enough,” Mostafa said. “Why?”

Christopher caught up with him and said sarcastically, "By the way, I heard that you keep having love affairs, but why can't I experience it even once? It's too unfair." Hansen's face was as dark as charcoal. However, Christopher's words were right. If he didn't deal with those terrorists there that day, Richards Manor would definitely encounter a disaster the day after. He understood that point, but he still felt extremely irritated! The midsummer night was hot and dry. Nevertheless, Richards Manor, which was surrounded by greenery, was quite cool. Liya sat on the bed without a hint of drowsiness at all. Oscar had returned to B City and had finally let her go.

“Maybe we’ll be able to watch a spectacular show soon!” The venue immediately erupted. Everyone was excited by Richard. They were all looking forward to seeing who would come out on top. After all, everyone knew Richard’s identity and wealth. “Friends from Florence...” Richard revealed a gentlemanly smile, but his eyes gleamed with a cunning light. “I forgot to introduce myself earlier. “I am Richard, the commander of the Flandom Knights of Death. My father, Alexander, is the only five-star general in Flandom. His reputation is renowned worldwide, so I’m sure you’ve heard of him.

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.