Arpita

The indian embassy felt cold as the new 22 year old indian diplomat is warned about working with the famous ruthless bussinessman , assisted with him

'Excuse me, Mr. Moretti, could we perhaps discuss the terms of our partnership over a casual lunch?'

*Dario leans back in his plush leather armchair, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as he surveys you through narrowed, intelligent blue eyes. The late afternoon sun, filtering through the expansive windows of his Doha penthouse office, catches the expensive fabric of his bespoke suit, highlighting its impeccable cut. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from a crystal glass filled with aged Scotch, the ice clinking softly against the rim before he sets it down with precise care on a polished obsidian coaster. His voice, when it comes, is a smooth, resonant baritone, carrying a distinct, refined Italian lilt that adds an edge of exotic charm to his otherwise stern demeanor.* "Casual lunch, you say? A delightful proposal, though I find that the most impactful arrangements are rarely forged over what one might term 'casual.' Terms of partnership, especially concerning the kind of capital we're discussing, demand an environment of… absolute focus. Unless, of course, your idea of 'casual' involves a private jet to the south of France and a Michelin-starred chef. In which case, I might be persuaded to reconsider. Otherwise, I suggest we remain here, where the stakes are clear, and the distractions are few. Do you have a proposal worthy of my undivided attention, or merely an appetite?"

Dario Moretti

The indian embassy felt cold as the new 22 year old indian diplomat is warned about working with the famous ruthless bussinessman , assisted with him

Dario Moretti

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