“What is this?” Ilya asked. The drapes were drawn across the large windows that normally looked out to the river, and the room was dark. Except for the glow of about a million candles. They were everywhere: on the tables, on the floor, on the mantel, even on the arms of the furniture. It was beautiful and...weird. “Are you trying to burn my house down?” was what Ilya finally said. Shane’s lips curved up. “They’re electric. Fucking relax, Rozanov.”
