Novels by Victoy Richman

A Dance of Power and Desire in the Shadows of Deal-Making.The euphoria of the conference room dissipated the moment the heavy oak doors swung shut behind them. The deal was struck—the "Highway Heist" was a go—but as the team dispersed into the labyrinthine corridors of the Seattle resort, the silence that followed the applause felt heavy with unsaid words.Karen walked alone toward the elevators. Her heels sank into the plush carpet, muffling her steps. She was the CEO of Bong, a woman who commanded fleets of engineers and billions in assets, yet she felt a gnawing hollow in her gut. She had sat at that table, watched the interplay between the Indians—the subtle nods, the unspoken currents between Rachna and Savita, the silent language shared by the Bollywood stars—, and she realised she was watching a play where she ha

When Bollywood Glamour Meets Aviation Audacity.The conference room at the Seattle resort was thick with the smell of stale coffee and high-end tension. The team meeting that evening was electric. It was ostensibly a celebratory dinner to mark the nearness of the Bong deal, but the real feast was the new idea.Savita sat at the head of the long table, her presence commanding, even in the casual setting. She was flanked by Vinod and Rubi, whose public endorsement was political gold. They were her secret weapon. While her cabinet secretaries advised her on policy, Vinod and Rubi advised her on perception."A 747 on the highway," Savita murmured, sipping her wine, her eyes distant, calculating. "It is… unconventional."Rahul presented the case with passion, detailing the Arizona visit and the financial viability. "It’s about more than the motel. It’s a statement about our commitment to infrastructure, to sustainable, innovative tourism, and a testament to the future of aviation in India

Power Plays and Ambitious Schemes in the World of Aviation.Rachna’s eyes widened. She began to pace, the silk of her robe rustling. This was how she worked—taking a raw spark and fanning it into a wildfire."Bong has a fleet of retired aircraft they don't know what to do with," she murmured, thinking aloud. "Disposal is a cost centre for them. Environmental regulations make it expensive to scrap them.""Exactly," Rahul said. "Karen mentioned they have twelve 747s slated for decommissioning next year. If we include a clause in the manufacturing deal—we take the scrap off their hands for a nominal fee—we get the inventory for free. We ship them to India, or we set up right there in Arizona. We diversify. Manufacturing is the bread and but

Turning a Romantic Detour into a Geopolitical Masterstroke.The Seattle rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse suite at the Four Seasons, a rhythmic, weeping percussion that contrasted sharply with the warm, amber silence inside. Rachna sat in a high-backed velvet armchair, a tumbler of single malt resting on her knee. She wasn’t looking at the skyline; she was watching the door.When the lock clicked, and the heavy mahogany door swung open, she didn't rise.Rahul walked in, trailing the scent of rain and, faintly beneath it, the dry, electric musk of the Arizona desert. He looked tired, but it was the good kind of fatigue—the exhaustion of a man who has played a high-stakes game and won. He dropped his leather weekender bag by the entrance and loosened his tie."You’re back," Rachna said, her voice smooth, betraying nothing."I am." Rahul walked over to the sidebar and poured himself a drink without asking. He knew the protocol. He knew her moods. "It’s ra

Rediscovering luxury amidst the ashes of aviation..Rahul and Karen stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the edge of the sprawling, dust-choked Arizona desert. The dry, furnace-like heat was a physical presence, pressing down on them, a vast, silent, and crushing weight. It was the kind of heat that baked the air and drew the moisture from the skin, leaving a fine layer of grit on the tongue. As they gazed upon the Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group (AMARG)—better known by its evocative, almost mythical moniker: 'The Boneyard'—the silence was broken only by the thin, high whistle of the desert wind weaving through the empty cabins of the retired jets and the distant, mechanical groan of a crane operating miles away.This was a massive, practically apocalyptic landscape. Hundreds of retired aircraft—a staggering, two-mile-wide collection of military and commercial history—sat silently in the sun-baked, high-desert air. The metallic scent of sun-baked aluminium and stale hydraulic f

A Risky Proposition: Business and Pleasure in the Aftermath.Satisfied with her impromptu display, Karen finally slowed, giving him a genuinely tired, happy smile that reached her eyes. She tossed a luxurious cashmere wrap—another purchase—onto the massive bed's foot. "Right," she sighed contentedly. "Let's unpack these shoes. I have a feeling they deserve their own welcome ceremony." She turned towards the walk-in closet where several boxes lay waiting."The shoes," he finally said, his voice a low, gravelly counterpoint to her high energy. He quickly reached her, preventing her from moving to the closet. Gently cupping her face, he pulled her close, their breaths mingling. With a small, confident smile, his mouth grazed her lips. "They can wait," he murmured intensely. "This is non-negotiable. I must have you, Karen.""Oh, Rahul," Karen moaned deeply, the last vestiges of her initial playful resistance dissolving into an eager, reciprocal passion that ignited the air between them.

Maybe the storm was just a blessing, a sign of fate giving them a chance to work things out. Perhaps the universe finally agreed with her because she had never had a more evident sign. They had talked, and it had been a lot of talking. They considered all possibilities, positive and negative, and they decided what was best for them was to get back together despite all odds. She always saw many things, but when it came to herself, it was always unclear, just like her situation and the moment, but she vowed she would live her best life with those who mattered to her, no matter how short. The Yadav home knew she was safe, and she had sent a message informing them she was with Zayn and would be back once the storm was over, although that wasn't looking promising again. It was everything she wanted; for once, her thoughts and vision were clear. She saw peace and solitude, for her soul was at rest. Each time her mind diverted to Zayn Vendant, she saw a hint of darkness, sometimes blur. She

Everyone in town was shopping for the next three days and rushing home to avoid getting caught up in the storm predicted by the weather forecasters. It was expected to hit in four hours and last for three days. It was a big-time rush, but Zayn wasn't a part of it. He needed to get things cleared up with Isha. Myra was gone, and that was a good thing. He just needed to see her, and despite the advice from his closest friends, he couldn't wait for the storm out without her. He wasn't sure he would make it without her.He was informed that she was out when he got to the Yadav household. It was her day off, and she had gone out, as usual. Only some people knew where. He called her several times, and she didn't pick up. He was a confused man in Delhi.He drove back to the Yadav household and met with one of the helpers."You should go home; this storm will be here anytime." She said, picking different saree colours from the cloth line where they had been left to dry. She looked bored and ju

They caught her in the most vulnerable state. With the ninety-nine issues going on with Zayn, she didn’t expect another one on her desk, so as she realised she had been set up, she just gave up. There was no fight; she was wise enough to know that it was either the 78-carat crown or her life, and for such huge some, her attackers wouldn’t have to hold a conference to decide to kill her, so she just let them take everything that had meant the world to her.The memory stayed with her, and she remembered it as fresh as if it were happening now. She and her crew had been going to the Triumph Hall on East Lane for the Oscars ceremony. When asked to bring her crown, she knew it was a bad idea. Of course, she acknowledged that it was such a huge event that all eyes were on her. For it to be hosted in India, it would be a shame if she couldn’t witness it. In the same way, it would be disrespectful to her country for her to show up without her identity, the crown. Near home, she and Vivi sat b

It had been four days since her encounter with Myra, and Isha couldn't deny that she felt like the most stupid person on the planet. The funny part was she knew she had no right to be angry like the guy was in a relationship with someone else. Officially, he belonged to Myra, but then she couldn't get the picture of him being in bed with her. It disturbed her in ways she didn't expect.Her hurt was too much. It nearly crushed her, but she needed to keep moving, which she did. She stopped picking up his calls and just avoided him generally. She tried looking at the good side, like him not dying, which was good, right?As usual, the Yadavs had a get-together dinner, and it was something they frequently did, something to boost their political involvement and expand their territory. Today, she was to serve, and she tried as much as she could to keep calm when she saw Zayn seated among the VIPs. Of course, he had been invited; he was considered one of the most influential people in the coun

The plan was to go unnoticed and so she did just that. Myra was in joggers and a sports bra, with dark glasses to hide her identity. Her hair was tied in a small ponytail that bounced as she walked into the gym. She glanced around for a while and then saw Isha at the corner working the treadmill. She walked up to the receptionist and flashed a smile.“A month, please. What’s the cost?” she asked.“Rs 1000” the receptionist replied. “Name please.” She asked as she received cash from Myra and began filling out the registration form on the system.“Abitha Solan” she lied.Things had gone down with Zayn; she had recognized the name as soon as Zayn mentioned it, who could easily forget the girl at the engagement party? Zayn didn’t have an answer to the question she asked that night and he was a terrible liar so she immediately interpreted what was going on, and she wasn’t wrong. He had sat there all night while she went into the room and man had she cried, she was hurt and didn’t think she

Uptown Delhi was the most beautiful place in India, and as they held hands, taking photos, she could see all the possibilities she had always dreamed of coming to pass. They got to a serendipity restaurant called the unicorn sundae and were back in the streets, diverting into the little tracks leading to the lake.To both their surprise and satisfaction, the lake was empty. The water was a runoff of the downfall at the end of the city, and they knew it was safe. The government kept it clean.“Hold on!” Zayn shouted as he raced behind her, struggling to get through the shrubs that lay around.Isha giggled. “Keep up, CEO.” She yelled in return. As she got to the edge of the stream, she took off her oversized polo shirt, which was his actually, and the shorts she wore joined it. She did a twirl in her optional cloth state just before his arrival.He joined her, pulling away from his dress and walking to meet her. His hands circled her waist, and he pushed her to himself. She felt him hard