[ANASTASIA]
Once the plane lands at a private airport, it doesn’t take long for us to move into the cars Ivan’s security had already arranged and drive to the nearest and probably the safest hotel.
When I step out of the car, I’m greeted by a tall building that stands out like a sore thumb amid the dazzling streets of Kazan. No building around seems as tall as this one, not even close. It’s beautiful, and I only hope the beds are just as comfortable because, after the long-ass flight, all I can think about is throwing myself on a nice, bouncy bed and sleeping for hours.
Ivan’s head of security—the name is Igor, I think—does all the grunt work. While Ivan and I wait in the waiting room, he grabs the keys from the reception and leads us to our rooms. We take the elevator to one of the top
