Danica narrowed her eyes—not dramatically, just enough to confirm that the absurdly luxurious structure in front of her wasn't a hallucination brought on by jet lag or the emotional dumpster fire she currently called her life. No, it was real. A massive, elegant masterpiece carved straight out of stone—or maybe a mountain, who knew? Probably a hotel. Probably overpriced.
She didn't move her gaze, not even a twitch.
"So," she began, her voice drier than her skin after a month of forgetting to moisturize, "are you planning on telling me where exactly you've kidnapped me to? Or is this a silent retreat where no one talks and I'm forced to find myself?"
"Cappadocia," Nina replied, all sunshine and grins as if she'd just solved world hunger. "We're in Cappadocia, sis."
Wait. What in the name of all things holy—no freaking way.
