11-24-2023, 01:46 AM
Alistair had not been accustomed to car services, spending time with the elites at upscale parties, or being led around by a high-class escort who claimed to be "part of the family." His quick ascension within the Family had seemed abrupt, like a dream from which he might awaken at any moment. He often thought he would suddenly wake and find himself back in a cheap hotel on the road in some small southern town, next to a rat he had met after a match.
When the door of the Rolls opened, the chauffeur stood by, and Nadya exited. Alistair waited for a few moments, his gaze fixed through Nadya to the front of the hotel. He paused briefly.
"Alistair, are you coming? Don't worry, they don't bite. But I'll kick your ass if you don't get out; I'm freezing!" Nadya playfully chided in a thick Russian accent, standing in a skimpy party dress in the autumn cold. "Why don't you evaluate your current life situation when you aren't making me wait here, freezing my tits off. I've never known you to not come quickly." With these playful jabs, Nadya attempted to ease his nerves with her punchy humor.
Taking a deep breath and letting his shoulders relax, Alistair took her hand and rose from the car. He was dressed in a black suit and button-up white shirt.
Mr. P's goal for the event was not to showcase Alistair but to subtly blend him into the social milieu. The plan was to quietly weave him into the social fabric while building an aura around him, introducing him to key people, influencers, businessmen, media tycoons, and socialites who shaped reality.
Arm in arm, they entered the buzzing lobby. Large posters of the album cover hung from the ceiling; music echoed in the distance; the lighting, tailored for the atmosphere, was vibrant. Everyone was dressed for an upscale yet fun night of dancing and frivolity. The mood was set for enjoyment.
"Well, little sparrow, the first lesson about these events is that you get a drink first—number one rule. Get a drink as soon as you step in. It's practical; you can loosen up and survey the room. But the bar is also where people meet. Everyone there is waiting for a drink, already drinking, or positioned to interact. Come with me," she instructed in a thick Russian accent, turning to the bartender.
"I'll have some champagne. He'll take a Manhattan," Nadya ordered, choosing Alistair's drink without asking.
"Oh, how did you know?" Alistair quipped with a smile, fully aware of her tactics.
As they waited at the bar, Nadya surveyed the room like a sniper scoping out targets, quickly identifying whom she would introduce Alistair to.
"Thank you," Alistair said, nodding as he took his Manhattan from the female bartender, who replied in a soft, flirty voice, "You're very welcome." "Now what, Nadya? Are you going to parade me around like a piece of meat for these elite assholes?" Alistair was about to learn the game he needed to play.
When the door of the Rolls opened, the chauffeur stood by, and Nadya exited. Alistair waited for a few moments, his gaze fixed through Nadya to the front of the hotel. He paused briefly.
"Alistair, are you coming? Don't worry, they don't bite. But I'll kick your ass if you don't get out; I'm freezing!" Nadya playfully chided in a thick Russian accent, standing in a skimpy party dress in the autumn cold. "Why don't you evaluate your current life situation when you aren't making me wait here, freezing my tits off. I've never known you to not come quickly." With these playful jabs, Nadya attempted to ease his nerves with her punchy humor.
Taking a deep breath and letting his shoulders relax, Alistair took her hand and rose from the car. He was dressed in a black suit and button-up white shirt.
Mr. P's goal for the event was not to showcase Alistair but to subtly blend him into the social milieu. The plan was to quietly weave him into the social fabric while building an aura around him, introducing him to key people, influencers, businessmen, media tycoons, and socialites who shaped reality.
Arm in arm, they entered the buzzing lobby. Large posters of the album cover hung from the ceiling; music echoed in the distance; the lighting, tailored for the atmosphere, was vibrant. Everyone was dressed for an upscale yet fun night of dancing and frivolity. The mood was set for enjoyment.
"Well, little sparrow, the first lesson about these events is that you get a drink first—number one rule. Get a drink as soon as you step in. It's practical; you can loosen up and survey the room. But the bar is also where people meet. Everyone there is waiting for a drink, already drinking, or positioned to interact. Come with me," she instructed in a thick Russian accent, turning to the bartender.
"I'll have some champagne. He'll take a Manhattan," Nadya ordered, choosing Alistair's drink without asking.
"Oh, how did you know?" Alistair quipped with a smile, fully aware of her tactics.
As they waited at the bar, Nadya surveyed the room like a sniper scoping out targets, quickly identifying whom she would introduce Alistair to.
"Thank you," Alistair said, nodding as he took his Manhattan from the female bartender, who replied in a soft, flirty voice, "You're very welcome." "Now what, Nadya? Are you going to parade me around like a piece of meat for these elite assholes?" Alistair was about to learn the game he needed to play.