I had thought Michael's house would be ornate, but here we are, a nouveau riche.
This was the top floor of the hotel, which had been turned into a giant suite, with a large floor-to-ceiling window through the front door that offered a panoramic view of the city.
The room was covered with hand-made Italian carpets with classical and complicated patterns. The glass chandelier was shining brightly, the size of a few people. In the middle was a European-style leather sofa surrounded by a tea table made of an entire piece of marble. There were seemingly unremarkable but very expensive furnishings all around.
Michael walked over from behind me indifferently. When he saw the furnishings in the room, he frowned slightly. "Klein is still so fond of exaggeration."
Michael turned to me. "Do you think it's all right here?" he asked. "Do you want to go into the bedroom? I can get someone if you need anything."
