We stepped into the penthouse, and it was well past twelve. I threw my jacket onto the counter and sighed as I undid my cuffs. Ria kicked off her shoes before collapsing onto the couch. Grabbing the book she had been reading for the past few days, she curled up. I knew she was reading some young adult books in full Russian to help her with the language. Apparently, it was a good one. Looking at the center of the living room, it always blew me away.

Ria had finished her painting on the floor. It ...