*January 21, 1986, London, England*
The Ritz Casino's opulent second floor glittered under crystal chandeliers, the air thick with the clink of chips, the murmur of high rollers, and the faint scent of cigar smoke. Raj Mehra, his arm lightly around Claire Evans' waist, navigated the velvet-draped halls with the confidence of a man who knew the odds were in his favor. Claire, stunning in a sapphire dress that hugged her model's figure, drew admiring glances, but Raj's focus was on the games. His secret weapon, a predictive tool from his 2025 life, allowed him to analyze bets with uncanny precision, though he kept its existence locked tightly within his mind. With 50 lakhs (£25,000) in hand—a modest sum in London's high-stakes world but significant enough to play—Raj scanned the floor for games where his calculations could shine.
He identified three games with predictable outcomes: roulette, blackjack, and a dice-based game called Hazard. In roulette, the wheel's spin offered 37 numbers, and Raj mentally queried his system for each: [*Number 6: Invest £1000, return £36,000 – Profit; Numbers 1–5, 7–36: Loss*]. Blackjack's card counts aligned with his system's probability analysis, showing strong wins on specific hands. Hazard, less common but popular in elite circles, relied on dice rolls, with the system pinpointing number 8 as a winner. Raj, his hand resting casually on Claire's waist, approached the roulette table first, his demeanor calm but electric.
At the roulette table, Raj placed £1000 on number 6, drawing curious glances from onlookers—a mix of suited businessmen and glamorous socialites. The croupier spun the wheel, the ball clattering to a stop. "Six, red!" The crowd murmured, impressed, as Raj collected £36,000. Claire's eyes widened, her earlier stress forgotten. "Beginner's luck?" she whispered, leaning closer. Raj only smiled, moving to blackjack. He bet £2000 on a hand, his system confirming a dealer bust. The cards fell perfectly—Raj's 19 beat the dealer's overdraw, earning £4000. Hazard followed, with Raj betting on number 8, netting another £5000 as the dice rolled true. Spectators whispered, some clapping, others eyeing him with suspicion, but Raj's calculated charm disarmed them.
Over 40 minutes, Raj played 13 games—winning eight (five in roulette, two in blackjack, one in Hazard) and losing five, all predicted by his system. The losses—small bets on off-numbers or weak hands—were strategic, masking his precision to avoid drawing too much attention. His 50 lakhs (£25,000) ballooned to 2 crore (£100,000), a fourfold return that left the crowd buzzing. A portly gentleman in a tuxedo clapped Raj on the shoulder. "You've got a gift, mate!" Raj nodded modestly, guiding Claire out of the casino, her arm linked with his, her smile radiant with the thrill of his wins.
They stopped for shopping on Oxford Street, the bustling shops alive with winter sales. Claire, needing clothes for their two-week arrangement, picked out elegant dresses and accessories, her mood lifted by Raj's generosity. He spent £2000 on her wardrobe—silk scarves, a tailored coat, and perfume—while indulging in a bespoke suit for himself, its crisp lines perfect for London's elite circles. Laden with bags, they returned to the Langham Hotel, its grand lobby welcoming them with warmth. In Raj's suite, exhaustion from travel and the casino's intensity hit hard. He sank onto the plush bed, Claire beside him, her auburn hair spilling over the pillow.
"You don't want a taste of London's nightlife? And me don't you want to fuck these mighty huge butt" Claire teased, her voice soft but playful.
Raj chuckled, his eyes heavy. "Tomorrow morning, Claire. I'll show you a proper adventure." They drifted to sleep, the city's hum a distant lullaby.
The next morning, January 22, Raj woke at 8 AM, refreshed and ready to conquer London's opportunities but first he slapped the ass of Claire. She woke up and massaging her ass. She said in her half awoken eyes what the fuck. Raj smiled and give one more slap. Claire wake up. After that Raj kissed her lips and after that took a blowjob from her and fucked her till 10 AM .
Then both of them took bath together.
Then he gave her 20 thousand pound more than agreed. She was happy with money and also gave a blowjob..
Over the next seven days, his schedule was relentless. He visited casinos like Aspinalls and Crockfords, using his system to win 30–50 lakhs per session on roulette and blackjack, each victory calculated to avoid suspicion. At Kempton Park, he bet on horse races, his system predicting winners like Desert Orchid, netting 20–30 lakhs per event. By January 28, Raj had amassed 10 crore (£500,000), a fortune that solidified his global ambitions.
He transferred 9 crore to *Pragarti Venture*'s UK bank account, opened through Suraj Singh to fund international ventures, keeping 1 crore for personal use. The transfer, executed via telex to Mumbai, ensured his empire's liquidity while he played London's high-stakes game.
Back in India, *Love Train* had premiered to modest success. In its first seven days, it earned 5 lakhs—a respectable but average start. However, word-of-mouth was spreading like wildfire. In a Mumbai college canteen, students buzzed about the film. "Have you seen *Love Train*?" one asked, sipping chai. "Not yet," another replied, "but everyone's raving about Priya Menon's direction." They planned a group outing, a microcosm of the film's growing traction. By day seven, ticket sales were climbing, with theaters reporting packed shows, hinting at the 5-crore profit Raj's calculations had foreseen.
Raj, still in London, checked in with Priya via a costly international call. "The film's taking off," she said, her voice crackling with excitement. "We're booking more screens!" Raj smiled, his mind already plotting his next casino move. With Claire by his side, *Pragarti Venture* expanding, and *Love Train* gaining momentum, Raj's empire was crossing borders. London's glittering nights were his playground, and his secret edge ensured every bet was a step toward greatness.