Maksimillian

“What? You’re leaving?” Zenovia’s brows furrowed.

“Are you concerned that I may not come back? That I’d break our deal even if you now know my address in Russia?”

I slowed down and parked the car in front of the four-story hotel, which overlooked most parts of the city. The glittering golden and white lights that formed into random curvy or straight lines were breathtaking.

Zenovia’s eyes wavered when I looked at her again. The engine of the car was already off, but the overhead light was still on.

“I can’t… I won’t and I don’t have the means to come after you despite the notarized agreement. It’s the...