Sighing, I leave them behind and follow his directions to my room on the third floor. My first thought when I enter is, This is too much.
After three weeks in a tiny little shoebox with Rudy and Lillian, I don’t even know what to do with myself in all this space.
Whereas the Vorobev Manor in London was lush and richly detailed, this place is color-sparse and brutally minimalistic. Just like in the foyer, black glass and neutral colors gleam like diamonds. I feel like I’ve crash-landed in the capital of an alien kingdom.
Weirdly, I don’t see any closets or wardrobes. I frown and do a slow walk around the perimeter of the room, letting my fingertips trail over the cold granite walls.
Suddenly, my finger catches on something. The tiniest little lip. I peer closer—then, acting on a hunch,
