The Temptation Garden lived up to its name.
Wish stood at the entrance, taking in the setup with growing dread. The vast garden had been transformed into twenty intimate alcoves, each separated by curtains of flowering vines that provided the illusion of privacy while remaining visible to the observation crystals floating overhead.
Each alcove contained a small table set for two. No candles, but the soft twilight glow filtering through the crystalline foliage created the same effect. Wine bottles already open and breathing. Plates of delicacies that smelled designed to lower inhibitions.
"Ladies," the host announced, standing at the center of the garden, her voice carrying across the space. "Your companions have prepared lunch. You have one hour. Enjoy."
The word "enjoy" dripped with suggestion.
The host walked away, her departure deliberate and theatrical.
Wish found her alcove—number fourteen—and stopped short.
