Celeste's round face flushed deeper, amber eyes glowing under the gallery's honeyed light like trapped embers. "I wanted perfection," she breathed, the words trembling slightly. "The '61 Château Margaux is chilled. And… other refreshments."
"Other refreshments?" Amanda's grin cut through the tension, sharp and knowing.
Celeste's fingers twisted in her silk dress. "I thought… energy might be required… for… later activities." The implication hung thick and heavy in the charged air, lush enough to make even Madison's eyebrows lift.
"You've all been planning this very carefully," I observed, settling into the central seating area where all six women could see me clearly. "I'm impressed by the coordination."
I murmured, settling into the central velvet armchair. The positioning was perfect—six women arrayed like petals around a throne, each within eyeline, none touching me. Yet. "Impressive discipline."
