The midnight sea air of Monte Carlo was warm, fragrant with blooming bougainvillea, salty Mediterranean breeze, and the unmistakable scent of excessive, untouchable wealth. Outside the Belle Époque facade of the Casino de Monte-Carlo, fleets of custom Bugattis, Rolls-Royces, and vintage Ferraris gleamed under the ornate gold streetlamps. But inside the heavily guarded private elevator, rising toward the exclusive second-floor Salon Privé, the mood was one of predatory silence. Vivienne…
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