A 25-meter swimming pool stretches out before us, its immaculate tiles glinting in the soft, artificial light. Empty loungers with untouched, crisply folded towels are dotted around and the air is freshly scented, like an expensive beach club. But this is no beach: we are five floors beneath the rainy grey streets of London’s Knightsbridge. A few minutes earlier, a scarlet Rolls-Royce Phantom glided past the entrance.
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