He ignores me and keeps walking. I follow him, a constricting sense of panic climbing up my throat. The house feels so much bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside. Which is saying something, because it looked pretty darn big from the outside, too.
Maids scurry into rooms out of sight as we move through the second floor, across a walkway that looks down on an indoor pool, and to yet another set of stairs.
Again, Misha takes the stairs at a jog. I struggle to keep up after the exhausting, painful morning I’ve had. But if I fall behind, I’ll get lost in this labyrinth.
He disappears into a room. I follow him in, realizing too late I’m standing in his bedroom.
“Do you really want this?” I say, lingering nervously at the threshold like I’ll get struck by lightning if I venture
