As the first light of dawn filtered through the hotel windows, Martin prepared to leave. Before stepping out, he turned to Alexandrovich and said, "Come on, let's talk in the car."
Bruce was behind the wheel, steering his car towards the airport, surrounded by a fleet of security vehicles. The atmosphere inside the car was tense, with the weight of recent events hanging heavy in the air.
Martin looked out the window, lost in thought, before breaking the silence. "Have we heard anything from France?"
Alexandrovich, unable to contain his frustration, shook his head. "Nothing. It's as if Ukrainian lives don't matter to them at all."
Realizing the harshness of his words, he quickly backtracked. "I'm sorry, Martin. I didn't mean it like that."
Martin gave a slight nod, his expression understanding but serious. "I get it. But you're not entirely wrong. To many in the West, anything beyond Germany is like a different world."
The pain in Alexandrovich's voice was palpable. "I've never felt so powerless," he admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.
Martin, sensing the depth of his despair, leaned in closer. "You've done everything you can. But one person alone can only do so much." His tone was firm, almost urgent. "My advice? Rally everyone you can. Form a united front, a group that's well-organized and strong. That's how you can truly make a difference."
Alexandrovich considered Martin's words carefully. He had met several like-minded people recently, and the idea of banding together seemed more and more like a necessity.
"You're right," he finally said. "It's impossible to make progress without enough power."
Martin nodded. "You've seen that firsthand. If it weren't for a stroke of luck, no one would have noticed the disappearance of those Ukrainian girls, except their families. It's as if they never existed."
Martin placed a comforting hand on Alexandrovich's arm. "You need to gather more people. Unite them under one cause."
Alexandrovich felt a renewed sense of purpose. "You're right. Now that I have some influence and resources, it's time to take on more responsibility. I will get to the bottom of this."
He paused, deep in thought. "I'll start by uniting my friends and others who share our goals. We need to form a group, something solid."
"You'll have the support of all Ukrainians," Martin assured him. "As long as you keep fighting for this cause, they will stand behind you."
A flicker of determination sparked in Alexandrovich's eyes. "What should we call this group? Martin, this was your suggestion, so..."
But Martin waved off the notion. "No, this is your idea, Alexandrovich. You need to own it. You're the leader here."
After a moment of silence, Alexandrovich nodded, more resolved than ever. "I won't forget this, Martin."
Martin smiled, then added thoughtfully, "Actually, I have an idea. The show 'Servant of the People' has struck a chord with many in Ukraine, and with the second season coming soon, you could use that momentum. Perhaps you could name your group something like the 'People's Front' or something along those lines."
"That's a great idea," Alexandrovich said, his mind already racing with possibilities. Martin's suggestion had planted a seed, could this social group evolve into a political force, perhaps even a party like the Servant of the People Party?
As they neared the airport, the convoy headed straight to the private tarmac, where a sleek Global 6000 jet awaited. Martin stepped out of the car, embracing Alexandrovich warmly. "Take care of yourself," he said, his voice filled with genuine concern.
Alexandrovich held Martin's hands tightly, his eyes filled with gratitude. "You've been more than a mentor to me, you're my best friend. Safe travels, Martin."
Olena approached, wrapping Martin in a warm hug, followed by Rebrov, who emerged from another vehicle carrying a large gift box. Handing it to Bruce, Rebrov turned to Martin and said, "This year, or at the latest next year, I'll come to visit you in Los Angeles."
Martin shook his hand firmly. "Come sooner. I'll show you the magic of Hollywood."
Rebrov chuckled, the tension easing slightly.
Then, three young women in dark blue jeans, each pulling a suitcase, approached the jet. The crew swiftly loaded their luggage into the hold as Martin called out, "Mia, Erica, Nastya, let's get on board."
The three girls, beaming with excitement, followed Martin onto the plane. As Martin stood at the cabin door, he waved down to his friends, then stepped inside and took his seat.
As the plane taxied for takeoff, two flight attendants approached, reminding everyone to fasten their seat belts. Nastya glanced around the luxurious interior, her eyes wide with wonder. It was her first time on a private jet, and she wasn't alone in her awe, Misha and Erica were equally mesmerized.
"Soon enough, you'll be spending a lot of time on planes," Martin remarked with a smile.
Erica, always curious, asked, "Why? We can't afford planes like this."
Nastya, slightly embarrassed by her friend's bluntness, nudged her and explained, "We're a part of the Saint girl group now. We'll be performing all over, so we'll be flying a lot."
Martin chuckled at their innocence, knowing that their lives were about to change in ways they couldn't yet imagine.
Erica scratched her delicate face and nodded, saying, "Oh, I see. That makes sense."
The plane climbed higher into the sky, and once they reached cruising altitude, Martin unfastened his seatbelt and turned to the three girls with a smile. "How about I show you around the plane?"
Nastya immediately perked up. "Yes, please!" she said, her excitement clear in her voice.
Misha and Erica, not wanting to miss out, quickly joined in, following Martin through the narrow aisles.
The plane wasn't enormous, but it was luxurious. Martin led them past the cozy lounge area, pointing out the various amenities. However, when they reached the door to the bedroom, he stopped and said with a grin, "This room's off-limits, though. It's reserved for Lily and Elizabeth."
The girls giggled but didn't press the issue, understanding the boundaries. After the brief tour, they all settled down in the lounge area, the plush seats enveloping them in comfort.
Martin, ever the gracious host, asked the flight attendant to bring drinks. Soon enough, the four of them were deep in conversation, the tension of being with a famous figure quickly melting away. Martin, with his years of charm and experience, had a natural way of making people feel at ease. He effortlessly entertained the three young women, sharing stories and jokes that had them laughing and feeling like they were among old friends.
As the plane touched down on the private tarmac at Charles de Gaulle Airport, the girls were clearly comfortable with Martin, evidenced by Nastya and Misha each clinging to one of his arms as they disembarked. Erica, however, lagged slightly behind, feeling a bit left out and trying not to let her disappointment show.
Waiting on the tarmac was a sleek, black car from the Bulgari Hotel, ready to whisk them away. Martin had gone all out, booking the entire top floor of the Bulgari Hotel in Paris. The luxury apartment spanned over 600 square meters, offering a breathtaking view of the iconic Golden Triangle of Paris, with its majestic landmarks and glittering lights.
Once they arrived at the hotel, Nastya, Misha, and Erica quickly retreated to one of the lavish rooms, claiming they needed to shower and change clothes. Martin watched them disappear with a knowing smile, sensing they were up to something.
He took the opportunity to freshen up himself, enjoying a long shower before changing into more comfortable clothes. Meanwhile, Bruce and the rest of the security team thoroughly checked the rooms, ensuring everything was secure before leaving the suite.
Just as Martin was settling into the study, his phone rang. It was Thomas. The two chatted for a few minutes, discussing plans and updates. When the call ended, Martin stepped out of the study and immediately noticed music playing softly in the hall.
Curious, he followed the sound and opened the door to the lounge. There, in the center of the room, stood Nastya, Misha, and Erica, all under a shimmering spotlight. The three women were stunning, dressed in glittering sequin dresses with spaghetti straps, paired with black stockings and high heels that accentuated their long, elegant legs.
They were a vision, their youthful beauty enhanced by the sparkling outfits that clung to their S-shaped curves. The girls, with their straight backs and confident postures, seemed to embody everything vibrant and alluring about youth.
Nastya, holding a remote control, pressed a button, and the music shifted to a familiar tune. Martin instantly recognized it, it was "Stop Stop Stop," the hit song of the Saint Girls Band or Nu Virgos.
With the first beats of the song, the three began to dance, their moves energetic and full of life. Every sway of their hips and every turn of their bodies was mesmerizing, their dance even more daring and bold than anything they had done in previous performances. The rhythm of the music pulsed through the room, and their movements became increasingly sensual, almost hypnotic.
Martin, intrigued and amused, settled down on the plush sofa in front of the TV to watch the show unfold.
Nastya took the lead, her dance moves bolder than ever. Her exaggerated twists and turns left little to the imagination, with every movement showcasing her lithe figure. Misha and Erica matched her energy, their long, flowing hair, black, golden, and brown, adding to the allure as it swirled around them.
Erica was the first to break into song, her voice smooth and sultry.
"I didn't believe him at first, but he pulled me into temptation, said everything I wanted to hear, and played with my emotions," she sang, her eyes locking with Martin's for a moment.
As the choreography shifted, the three switched positions, with Nastya now at the center. She turned her back to Martin, bent forward, and belted out the next verse with passion.
"He was handsome and magnetic, like a gift just for me, and I fell for him instantly."
Misha then took her turn in the spotlight, standing tall and proud, her hips swaying seductively as she sang.
"But just as I was swept away, he grew cold, leaving me yearning for more..."
The three came together for the chorus, their voices harmonizing beautifully as they sang:
"I gave everything I had, like a precious gift my body, my soul, just to create unforgettable memories."
As the song climaxed, Misha reached out and grabbed the strap of Nastya's dress, yanking it down in a playful yet provocative move. The dress slipped, revealing a flash of skin under the spotlights. The girls continued their routine, each tugging at the other's outfit in a similar fashion, adding an unexpected twist to their performance.
The energy in the room was electric, the trio giving their all, embodying the spirit of the song with every note and every dance move.
By the end of the performance, Martin was thoroughly entertained, a satisfied smile on his face as he clapped. The girls had truly given it their all, both in song and dance, leaving an indelible impression.
The next morning, true to his refined tastes, Martin decided to start the day with a visit to a nearby Michelin three-star restaurant for lunch. Not one to miss out on the finer things, he brought Nastya, Misha, and Erica along for the experience. Afterward, they spent the afternoon on a shopping spree along the famed Champs Élysées, indulging in the luxury and glamour that Paris had to offer.
When it came to luxury brands like Chanel, Hermes, and Cartier, nothing was off-limits for Martin and the girls.
As they settled in for dinner, Erica, who had changed into a chic new outfit, couldn't contain her amazement. "I feel like I'm dreaming," she murmured, her eyes wide with wonder. "I never imagined living a life like this."
Nastya chuckled, a knowing smile on her lips. "Don't worry," she said. "You'll get used to it soon enough."
Misha, holding her wine glass elegantly, took a small sip before speaking. "We're the Holy Girls Band now," she said with confidence. "It won't be long before we're the most popular girl group in Ukraine."
Martin, sensing the right moment, leaned in slightly and offered a casual but intriguing hint. "Alexandrovich has something in the works. You might even get a guest spot on the second season of 'Servant of the People.'"
Nastya's eyes sparkled. "Our lives are changing so fast."
Martin smiled but his tone turned a bit more serious. "Remember, though," he said, looking at each of them in turn, "you need to keep working hard. Your singing and dancing are the foundation of everything you do." He paused for emphasis. "The Saint Girls Band has gone through 16 different members. Don't take anything for granted."
The mood shifted slightly, with the smiles on the girls' faces faltering, the reality of Martin's words sinking in.
But just as quickly, Martin softened the moment with a new offer. "However," he said, his tone lightening, "if you can make a big impact in the CIS region, I'll help you arrange a concert in New York or Los Angeles. Imagine performing in front of an American audience."
The three girls looked at each other, their surprise quickly turning into joy. Nastya, taking the lead, said eagerly, "I'll make sure we all work hard."
Misha and Erica nodded, their energy renewed and their determination visible.
Martin could tell just how serious they were that night. They didn't leave the hotel for the next day and a half, dedicating themselves fully to practice and preparation.
On the final day of their trip, Martin personally escorted them to the airport, where he had arranged a private jet to take them back to Kyiv. The Holy Lady Band was set to embark on a tour across Ukraine and the CIS region, their future looking brighter than ever.
That evening, Martin attended a high-profile fashion party in Paris, thanks to an invitation secured by Léa Seydoux. The event was a who's who of the French fashion elite, and it was there that Martin crossed paths with Jean-Luc Brunel, the owner of Karin Model Agency.
When the crowd had thinned, Bruce leaned in close to Martin and asked quietly, "Is this the guy you've chosen to go up against Alexandrovich?"
Martin shook his head. "I didn't choose him. He just happened to cross paths with Alexandrovich."
Bruce lowered his voice further. "I spoke with Alexandrovich earlier today. He's teamed up with some big names to put pressure on the Security Bureau. They're digging into Brunel. While they might not have much pull in France, the National Security Bureau has the resources to uncover some dirt."
Martin nodded thoughtfully. "Tell Alexandrovich this: if they find evidence and can't get anywhere through official channels, go to the British press. The Brits would love to expose any scandal involving the French, and some of their media outlets have global reach."
Bruce grinned, understanding the strategy. "The British and the French, no love lost there. The British know how to hit the French where it hurts, and vice versa. It's a smart move."
Martin had no intention of lingering at the party. With his business there done, he quickly made his exit.
The following morning, he boarded a plane back to Los Angeles.
Upon his return to Davis Manor, he found the house quieter than usual, Lily and Elizabeth were both out of town on business. As soon as Martin arrived, Thomas showed up, carrying a thick stack of papers. "I've got the background on Michelle Bryan that you asked for," Thomas said, handing the files over to Bruce. "There's a lot of public information, but also some rumors. This woman's not as simple as she seems."
Martin poured himself a glass of wine and settled onto the sofa. "Tell me everything."
Thomas sat down across from him and began to explain. "Michelle Bryan was born in 1983, though it's unclear where exactly. She started out as an actress in Hollywood, and she was well-known for her social connections. When the former Hollywood madam Heidi Fleiss was taken down by the FBI, there was a vacuum in the Los Angeles market. Michelle stepped in and quickly became the new leader in that scene."
He continued, "At her peak, Heidi Fleiss couldn't hold a candle to Michelle. Through her global travel company, Michelle took control of the high-end market in Los Angeles and even across California. She provided exclusive services for celebrities and the wealthy, including arranging flights and accommodations. By 2005, her annual net profit was a staggering 8.5 million dollars."
Martin raised an eyebrow. "In 2005, I was barely making six figures."
Thomas nodded. "It's an industry where the money flows fast."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "It's said that two of Tiger Woods' mistresses were high-end escorts provided by Michelle. He was so satisfied with them that he bought out their contracts."
Martin's curiosity was piqued. "How many people in the industry have used her services?"
Thomas smirked. "More than you might think. Many don't do it for the thrill, but for the convenience and discretion. Even I've used her services."
Bruce, surprised, asked, "You? Why would you need to?"
Thomas replied with a straight face, "It's not about needing to. It's about convenience. A night or a day with no strings attached, it's simple, clean, and there's no hassle."
Martin pressed further, his voice low but insistent. "Wasn't Michelle arrested by the FBI? How did she get out so quickly, and with such a light punishment?"
Thomas leaned forward, his tone becoming more confidential. "I asked Mr. Neves about it," he said, referring to Martin's old contact within the FBI. "He told me that someone powerful pulled some strings to get Michelle out, but he didn't know who it was."
Martin raised a hand, cutting off Thomas mid-sentence. "Don't worry about who it was," he said, his mind already piecing together the puzzle. He had a good idea of who might be behind it.
Thomas continued, "Last time she was arrested, all she had to do was pay a $35,000 fine. After the ban was lifted, she became even bolder. She runs two major operations now, one providing high-end services and the other dealing in drugs."
He paused, his expression darkening. "And after that last case, five people involved went missing. Their whereabouts are still unknown."
Martin nodded slowly, knowing full well that in their world, "missing" often meant dead.
Thomas went on, "Michelle Bryan is much smarter than Heidi Fleiss ever was. Fleiss got caught because she didn't pay taxes on her illegal earnings, and we all know how that ended. But Michelle? She's always paid her taxes in full, never missing a payment."
Bruce chimed in, "That's how you stay under the radar."
Martin didn't waste any time getting to the point. "If I decide to take her out, how big of a risk are we talking about?"
Thomas, though he had anticipated this direction, still hesitated for a moment. "The risks are high, Martin. She's connected to too many powerful people. If she were to release her client list, it would be catastrophic. Not to mention whoever's backing her."
Martin leaned back, processing this information. "When we talked on the phone before, I couldn't get into details, but let's just say if I hadn't been cautious, I could've ended up addicted myself."
Thomas nodded, now understanding Martin's deep concern. "It's always about money with people like this. They'll do anything to keep the cash flowing."
Bruce added, "I remember hearing once that when profits reach 100%, people will break every law imaginable, even resort to murder. If you had fallen into her trap, it would've cost you millions every year."
Thomas leaned in. "It's better to handle this quietly. If we go after her head-on, it'll draw too much attention, and we can't afford that."
Martin chuckled darkly. "I'm not looking for a showdown. I just want her to pay for what she's done."
He knew Michelle Bryan herself wasn't the real threat, it was the secrets she held and the powerful people she could bring down with her. If Martin wanted, he could have her arrested by the LAPD tonight, but the fallout would be a nightmare. The kind of people on her client list weren't just celebrities like Tiger Woods, Morgan Freeman, or Johnny Depp, they spanned across every corner of culture, sports, business, and politics. And that wasn't even considering her possible ties to more sinister networks, like those linked to the infamous island.
The more Martin thought about it, the more cautious he became. He knew that people like Michelle Bryan often had a way of making their enemies disappear in the most suspicious of circumstances.
"Any updates on Malena Morgan or Mia Malkova?" Martin asked, shifting the conversation slightly.
Thomas shook his head. "Nothing. We haven't been able to locate them."
Martin waved his hand dismissively. "If you can't find them, don't bother continuing. Given what we know from Nikia, it's probably best to let it go for now. No need to stir the pot with Morgan Freeman just yet."
He turned his attention back to the unresolved business. "And what about that guy named Lynch? Any sign of him?"
Thomas shook his head again. "No luck. Our people haven't spotted him."
Martin exchanged a look with Bruce before issuing new orders. "Find reliable people to keep tabs on Michelle Bryan and her operations. Make sure they don't get caught. And let's also anonymously tip off the LAPD, FBI, and DEA, just to see what happens."
Thomas sounded skeptical. "I doubt it'll have much effect."
Martin nodded in agreement. "I'm not expecting miracles, but it's worth a shot."
Bruce stepped in. "I'll handle the tip-offs."
Martin thought of one more thing. "The people who were trafficked from Ukraine, they might end up in Michelle Bryan's hands soon."
He was referring to a batch of victims that had been smuggled out before the Ukrainian Security Service could intercept them in Ossad.
Bruce frowned. "I'll dig around and see if I can find any leads."
Thomas, always the cautious one, added a final word of warning. "We need to be careful, Martin. This is dangerous territory."
Martin understood the risks all too well, but he also knew that some things couldn't be left unanswered. As the conversation ended, he resolved to proceed with caution, but also with the determination to ensure that Michelle Bryan's days of impunity were numbered.