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CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
R A Y V I N I could get used to this. A warm breeze blew into our cabana, flickering the table’s candle. The flame reflected in James’s eyes, his irises looking hazel-lit. I dragged my gaze from his heart-stopping face to survey the picturesque scene. The outdoor seating surrounded an elegant pool, and each table had a private cabana. James had brought me to one of the finest restaurants in Russia. To crown it all, the dude rented out the entire place. A typical move that can only be done by James Preston, A.K.A, the extravagant guy. From the elegance of the place, I didn't need a seer to tell me that prices were exorbitant. Everything looked neatly organized, and I could bet that this move by James of vetting the whole place to us, didn't come at a cheap price. When the tuxedoed waiter,
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