The sunlight streamed softly through the sheer curtains of the bedroom, casting faint gold lines across the hardwood floor. I sat on the edge of the bed, still in my robe, fingers resting on my lap as I watched the way the light danced. It was warm outside—unseasonably so—and quiet. Almost too quiet.
A soft knock pulled me out of my thoughts.
“Miss Sophia?” One of the guards, Yana, called gently from the other side of the door. “Aleksandr says it’s time.”
Time.
Time for lunch, apparently. He had told me last night, or rather, Vera had squealed in excitement over it. Something about a new restaurant opening on the quieter side of Moscow, one that served the best pelmeni in the entire city—according to Aleksandr, anyway.
I dressed in something casual but neat—dark jeans, a soft cream blouse, and a long beige trench coat. I didn’t want to look like I’d put in too much effort, but I also didn’t want to look like a complete mess. I wasn’t sure why I even cared how I looked.