Novels by Victoy Richman

From Power Struggles to New Ambitions.The return to Seattle was a study in profound, humiliating contrast. After the vibrant, relentless heat of Nagpur, the electric chaos of Basti, and the humid, intoxicating air of Rio, the Bong corporate tower was an architectural mausoleum: silent, temperature-controlled, and spiritually dead. The air smelt of ozone and recycled paper, a stark, clinical antiseptic that seemed calculated to cleanse the memory of silk saris, jasmine-scented baths, and raw, earth-shattering ambition. Karen, Roberts, Carlos, Nina, and Lara had been recalled with the brutal efficiency of a corporate clean-up operation, leaving behind a new delegation of officers—a sterile, financially focused team designed to manage the two ongoing projects at Basti and Nagpur, projects now firmly controlled by the Indian dynasty.

The Unveiling of Desire and Connection Between Lloyd and Rashmi.When Lloyd and Rashmi emerged, wrapped in thick towels, they were laughing, the political stress banished, replaced by a perfect, sensual understanding. Lloyd, energised and completely charmed, walked Rashmi back to the dressing area.“Last night was costly,” Lloyd remarked, his eyes sweeping over the remnants of the torn silk and lace that had been discarded in their urgent passion. “My apologies for the destruction of the Queen’s diplomatic armour.”He snapped his fingers, and his aide, who had been waiting discreetly in the outer lounge, entered with a collection of velvet boxes and discreet shopping bags.“I prepared for the necessity of replacement,” Lloyd announced, his gesture sweeping toward the new wardrobe. “But not with mere replacements. A conquest of this magnitude demands a commensurate upgrade.”Rash

The Cost of Morning Glory and the Value of Platinum.The Rio dawn crept into Minister Lloyd’s opulent suite, turning the heavy silk drapes a luminous, warm gold. Rashmi, the magnificent body double, woke first, her body humming with a deep, primal satisfaction. She lay facing Lloyd, who slept deeply, his arm thrown possessively over her waist, his breathing slow and heavy. The remnants of the night—the torn lace, the scattered jade silk, the heavy scent of spent passion—were tokens of the illusion she had so perfectly created.Rashmi allowed herself a moment of quiet, ruthless triumph. She had not only secured the wire transfer but had secured the man, driving him to an absolute surrender that went beyond mere political transaction. Lloyd had craved Savita's untouchable power; Rashmi had given him the illusion of breaking it, and the pleasure of commanding it.Her gaze drifted to the messy landscape of the bed, the sight fuelin

The Theatre of Possession, Sealed in Silk.The penthouse suite in Delhi had been transformed into the mission control centre for the final, most delicate stage of the Brazilian Gambit. Minister Savita, Vinod, and Rubi stood over the operational maps, not of land or trusts, but of human vanity. The asset, Rashmi—perfectly styled, coached, and briefed—was ready. After three days of intense practice, she was indistinguishable from the Minister in repose, movement, and public cadence.“Remember the protocols, Rashmi,” Savita instructed, her voice calm but penetrating. She was wearing a crisp white dress, the political architect standing apart from the theatrical sacrifice. “You are the Queen, but a queen of profound, silent authority. Your words are scarce, expensive, and delivered with conviction. Vinod has ensured the security detail acts entirely around your status, not your function.”Vinod, the logistical mastermind, stood by the luggage, which contained identical versions of Savita

The Price of the Double and the Currency of Trust, Unraveling Ambition in the Shadows of Political Intrigue.The penthouse sanctuary above the cacophony of Delhi was cloaked in the deep, velvet hush of late evening. Minister Savita, having successfully captured global attention with the Nagpur land acquisition, now shed the rigid armour of her office. The Brazilian deal—the final billion-dollar wire transfer from Minister Lloyd—was imminent—a signature away from securing the untraceable funds of her dynasty. Yet, the final phase was unexpectedly stalled, not by finance or law, but by lust.Savita sat on the white leather sofa, nursing a glass of chilled, gold-hued wine. Vinod, her strategist and anchor, was pacing, his tailored shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms, the picture of professional tension. Rubi, the third pillar of their alliance and the architect of Lloyd’s current, critical distraction, stood by the panoramic window, her expression tight.“He is losing the plot, Vinod,”

A Dangerous Alliance in the Shadows of Power.Suman walked to him, placing her hands on his chest, her expression now melting back into the intense, proprietary tenderness he knew. “He is a necessary man, Roberts. My quiet armour. His oddity is his genius. He saw our passion—a demonstration I staged for his benefit, not yours—and he knows better than to challenge the political reality. His only job is to obey and to ensure that the CBES remains blind to our movements.”She leaned up and kissed him, a light, sensual touch. “Now, come. Help me decide what to wear. I need to look untouchable when I finalise the details of the transfer with Rachna’s team.”

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