He looks at me with a blank expression on his face. Something tells me he’s not exactly a rocket scientist.
“You are to get ready,” he tells me in a subtle Russian accent. “Your car arrives in one hour.”
I frown. “Where am I going?”
The guard’s answer is to turn his back on me and leave just as unceremoniously as he entered.
“Where’s Artem?” I yell to his retreating back.
No answer to that, either.
“Thanks a lot, Mr. Talkative,” I grumble when I’m alone again.
I thought I locked the door the previous night, but either the lock is fake or everyone and their freaking mother gets a key to my room.
Feeling deflated and angry all at the same time, I walk into my en-suite bathroom and fill the tub with steaming water.
Then I strip out of the dress and clamber in. I wince as the water ba
