The display stand stood in bedroom in full view. Neatly arranged—no, ceremonially arranged—like someone was about to host a boudoir-themed fashion exhibit, was a lineup of nightgowns that looked like they belonged in a scandalous period drama or one of those TV shows where women just happen to sleep in five-inch heels and contour.
Correction: not nightgowns.
Weapons.
Each one could legally qualify as an accomplice to a felony-level seduction. Li Na stared in slow horror, afraid to touch anything for fear it might moan or combust.
The first was a translucent champagne gold number with barely-there straps and a slit so high it could air-condition the entire villa. Li Na held it up with two fingers like it was a biohazard.
The tag might as well have read:
"Warning: Will summon unintended consequences."
Next up, a soft blue silk piece that screamed virgin who doesn't know she's hot but everyone else does and it's a problem.
