Following Zaya up the stairs, I couldn't help but take in more of the villa's understated elegance. The place was immaculate every corner seemed curated, every piece of furniture thoughtfully placed.
It was a far cry from the chaos of my own apartment. I half-expected Zaya's room to be a reflection of her sharp, no-nonsense attitude, but when she finally pushed open the door, I wasn't sure what I was expecting.
The room was spotless, of course. A large, neatly made bed sat against one wall, its gray comforter smoothed to perfection.
The furniture was sleek and modern, all straight lines and muted tones. A black desk with an impossibly organized stack of papers and a laptop occupied one corner. A single piece of abstract art hung above the bed a splash of black on a white canvas.
I stepped inside and looked around, slowly turning in place. "Well, this is… nice."
Zaya dropped her bag by the desk and raised an eyebrow at me. "Nice?"
