Novelas de Victoy Richman

A Dance of Power and Desire in the Heart of Rio.Rio de Janeiro was a vibrant, suffocating tapestry of heat and opulence. Minister Savita’s delegation was immediately ushered into the Presidential Suite of the historic Copacabana Palace. Still, the actual meeting was scheduled for the following evening at a heavily secured private villa overlooking the bay.Rubi and Lloyd met discreetly in the villa’s secluded garden, minutes before the formal diplomatic dinner. The Brazilian Minister was exactly as Rubi remembered: tall, immaculately tailored, with a thick head of silver hair and eyes that held a dangerous, possessive intelligence. The moment their eyes met, the public veneer of statesmanship fractured, replaced by the white-hot memory of their last encounter. Lloyd’s hand, meant for a polite handshake, lingered, his thumb tracing the delicate pulse point on her wrist.“Rubi,” he breathed, his voice tight with surp

A Dance of Deception and Desire.Hours later, the sun had fully risen, painting the clouds over the Atlantic a riot of bruised purples and golds. The private jet was a cocoon of luxury, carrying Minister Savita, Vinod, Rubi, and a few key officials high above the world. Savita, now wearing a crisp, professional linen suit—the uniform of a Kingmaker on foreign soil—was reviewing the diplomatic briefs. Rubi sat across from her, seemingly absorbed in a novel, but her mind was already mapping the contours of the impending mission.“He likes the chase, Savita,” Rubi murmured, without looking up. “And he likes to feel that he is stealing something, be it a land registry or a beautiful woman away from the scrutiny of her government.”

Navigating Desires and Diplomacy in the Shadows of Ambition.Vinod, Rubi, and Savita lay close, the last vestiges of the day giving way to the intimate stillness of the night. The morning light would bring their departure for Brazil, a journey meant to expand their empire, but the true, solid foundation of that empire lay right here, in the unscripted, raw intimacy of their collective desire.A sudden, sharp apprehension tightened the air. Savita voiced the worry that had been lingering beneath the surface of their pleasure. “What if the Brazilian minister, this ‘Lloyd,’ makes advances to me?”Vinod’s earlier confidence wavered, replaced by a momentary flash of concern. “You should resist, absolutely,” he cautioned, his

A Dance of Desire and Strategy in the Heart of Politics.Two states away, in a secure, lavish penthouse suite in Delhi, Minister Savita, her strategist Vinod, and her architect Rubi were finalising the sensitive logistics for the Brazilian trip. The room was not merely opulent; it was a sanctuary of co-dependent power. Savita was reclining on a chaise lounge, draped in a thin, golden silk wrap, the material shimmering against her skin. She had clearly been ministered to; her eyes were heavy-lidded, her posture languid, radiating a deep, satisfied peace. Vinod, ever the attentive strategist, was kneeling beside her, ostensibly reviewing the flight plan on his tablet, but his focus was equally on the woman he owned. He was in tailored linen trousers and a loose kurta, his professional façade worn lightly. Rubi sat a short distance away, looking impeccably cool in a soft, tailored suit. Her eyes, however, rarely left the intimate table

The Triadic Consolidation and the Price of Unaccounted AssetsThe high-tech operational trailer at the Nagpur site, designated for the Bong team, was a pressure cooker of escalating paranoia. Carlos and Nina, the administrative and logistics duo, were hunched over their monitors, their faces lit by the cold, frantic glow of their tracking software. Roberts’s phone remained dark, and now, Lara’s too had joined the digital abyss. The simultaneous silence of the CFO and the VP was not a lapse in procedure; it was a crisis of state.“This isn’t a coincidence, Carlos,” Nina whispered, her voice tight with suppressed panic. She jabbed a finger at the map showing Lara’s last known—and entirely fabricated—location. “They’re not securing a lead. They’ve defected. Both of them. And they’ve done it together, or they’ve done it with Rahul and Suman.”Carlos rubbed the ba

Personal Intrigues: Navigating the Complexities of Power in a High-Stakes World.The logistics meeting was held in Rachna’s primary tactical office in Nagpur, a high-tech room designed for both comfort and absolute security. Minister Savita, in a crisp cotton sari, sat opposite Rachna, the two women projecting a formidable, unified front. Rahul stood slightly behind Rachna, his posture attentive, though his mind was already running a dual calculation of Karen’s next move and Lara’s intoxicating risk.The intelligence of the Brazilian minister's billion-dollar land inquiry had set the dynasty in motion.“The minister is serious,” Savita confirmed, tapping a finger on a secure tablet displaying satellite images of the proposed Brazilian site. “It’s a perfect parallel play—a large, sovereign tract near a logistics hub. He wants to mirror our entire SEZ concept, using our model to climb the pol

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