Olivia Westview
Not this again.
Dinner with James was supposed to be just another extension of the day—a way to unwind after a long series of meetings at the Chicago office. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself as we stepped into the upscale restaurant. But the moment we walked through the doors, I knew this wasn’t going to be anything close to a typical business dinner. Yes, this would be like Barclay Prime all over again.
The atmosphere was intimate, with low lighting casting a warm, golden glow over everything. Soft jazz music played in the background. The maître d’ greeted James by name, immediately showing us to a private table in a secluded corner of the restaurant. The table was set for two, a small candle flickering between us, casting dancing shadows on the crisp whi
