{DASHA}
By the time I left the office, I was beat. Valentina sent me out on two more errands, then yelled at me for not doing them fast enough. No clue why she was being such a bitch, but I was more than ready to go home, relax and open one of the bottles of Sakharov wine Ivie sent.
I left the huge flower bouquet at work. Finding a taxi at this time of day was impossible, and I wasn't strong enough to carry the huge arrangement on the Metro. The flowers would never make it across town in one piece.
Walking down the street, I passed a shiny red Russian sports car. My mouth practically watered at the sleek beauty. We never saw cars like this in Krasnoyarsk. For a few weeks, I dated a guy who owned a Maserati, which was fun to drive. But this car made that one look like a junker.
The sports car's driver's door opened, and long jean-clad legs appeared. I slowed, not wanting to miss my chance at learning who owned such a badass machine.
