𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍
The meeting concluded, and while Busch decided to stay in the restaurant to talk to the owner, I chose to exit with Anthony and Lucian.
As soon as we stepped outside, the frigid cold bit me. The coat I was wearing was stylish, but it was no match for the Russian winter. The chill went straight through the wool and into my bones. Within seconds, my feet had turned to icicles, the thin soles of my high-heeled shoes doing little to protect them from the freezing ground.
"Would you mind giving me a lift to the nearest subway?" I asked as Anthony and Lucian approached their car. I knew I was visibly shivering, but I was counting on the fact that even ruthless criminals won't let a pretty woman freeze for no good reason. "It should be about ten blocks from here."
So, tell me, what do you think of our little spy?