Her eyes leave my face and teeter down to my chest in retaliation. That’s when I realize that I’ve got my hand on my dog tags, too.
She’s already asked me about them once. I don’t intend to give her the chance again.
To my surprise, she goes, taking her box of bullshit with her.
I’m spared the indignity of storming in to see Misha again when I run into him at the bottom of the floating staircase.
It took a good hour before my heartrate returned to normal after our conversation this morning. One glimpse of him now and it’s hammering away once more.
“Back on the warpath already, Paige?” he asks flippantly.
“Where is my stuff?” I ask through gritted teeth. “I went to the bathroom. When I came back, my stuff was gone.”
“You mean that cardboard box of junk? I’m sure a maid disposed of it
