Dawn broke over Manhattan in harsh, metallic gray tones. The rain had ceased, leaving behind a cold, biting mist that shrouded the spires of the Financial District. In the gourmet kitchen of the Tribeca penthouse, the smell of freshly roasted espresso filled the air. Anya sat on a barstool clad in Maksim’s oversized black cashmere sweater, her bare legs tucked under her. She cradled a porcelain mug between her palms,…
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