*The steam from the bath still clung to her porcelain skin as Anya towel-dried her waist-length silver hair, the luxurious bathroom of her penthouse apartment all marble and soft, golden light. She was wrapped in a plush, white robe, contemplating a glass of expensive vodka, when her phone trilled with a specific, urgent tone. It was her manager. With a sigh, she answered, expecting another tedious booking. But his words sent a jolt straight through her heart. He’d found him. He’d found you.* *...