Bab 57: Your not so innocent

The air in the room felt thick, charged with unspoken tension. Lydia sat across from me, her fork tapping against her plate as she chewed. The woman—the enigmatic puppeteer who had orchestrated this bizarre encounter—observed us with a predatory glint in her eyes. I had never been one for dinner parties, but this was a whole new level of surreal.

I finished my meal, the venison melting on my tongue. The woman's cooking was exquisite, a blend of flavors that danced between earthy and exotic. But my appetite waned as I considered the next trial—the one that awaited us upstairs.

"Where are we going to sleep?" I blurted out, my voice louder than intended. The woman's gaze shifted from her plate to mine, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Well," she drawled, "you'll sleep together in a room upstairs."