With the vodka chilling in the freezer, where he put it upon his arrival at home, and the music playing at a couple of notches below deafening, Misha was in the kitchen making himself another lunch when the security system let him know somebody was at the front door. He lowered the volume on the way to the door. There was no reason not to expect it to be Anya. Nobody came up to the penthouse level that wasn't family or friend.
He swung it open. "What kept ya, brat?"
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