| Playing The Hostess

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍 

Since I had the evening off, I decided to indulge in a bath. My bathtub, like the rest of this apartment, was small and dingy, but lord knows I've seen worse. I tidied up the ugliness of the cramped bathroom by putting a couple of scented candles on the sink and adding bubbles to the water, and then I got in, letting out a blissful sigh at the warmth engulfing my body.

If I had my way, I'd always be warm. Whoever said hell was hot was wrong. Hell was motherfucking cold.

Russian-winter cold.

I was enjoying my soak when the doorbell rang. Instantly, my heartbeat spiked and adrenaline blasted through my veins.

I wasn't expecting anyone — which meant there was a possibility it was trouble.