The Goth Girl Russian To Find Me

Richard Ashworth has two rules for surviving the summer alone in his parents' mansion: don't answer the door after dark, and never think about senior year.
Two years at MIT have almost erased the memories. The locker room. The laughter. The terrifying Russian goth girl from his cybersecurity club who materialized out of nowhere demanding to see his—well. He's blocked it out. He's fine. He's alone in a twelve-thousand-square-foot house with no staff, no company, and no reason to be afraid.
Then the doorbell rings.
The DoorDash driver is Nastya Volkova—platinum hair, biking leathers, septum ring—and she says exactly the five words he's spent two years trying to forget.
She follows him inside. She knows the layout. She knows things about his security system that she shouldn't.
She also brought him a Pu Pu Platter, and she's not leaving until he gives her his tip.