Page 2 of Guilty as Sin

"Not at all," Karl responds, his voice dropping to that velvet tone he reserves for women who intrigue him.

I signal the waiter while studying her. She's young—twenty-three, according to the brief research I conducted after receiving Harper's email—but there's nothing inexperienced about the way she holds herself. Her tailored blazer hugs curves that the conservative cut can't entirely downplay.

"Scotch?" I offer, finding my voice.

"Neat," she replies without hesitation. Another surprise.

"A woman who knows her spirits," Karl comments, leaning forward slightly. "Refreshing."

A palpable tension lingers between us—a shared awareness that our eyes are set on the same captivating woman. This isn't the first time we've found ourselves in this situation where our desires overlap. But what sets this instance apart is the sheer intensity of our attraction, so immediate and overwhelming that it feels like a magnetic force pulling us toward her.

"Adeline Ross is particular about her image," I say, steering us toward business. "Her last campaign underperformed because the marketing team didn't understand her appeal."

Zoe nods, accepting the drink from the waiter with a smile that makes my chest tighten. "That's exactly why I'm here. Harper's brilliant, but I understand Adeline's demographic intimately."

She launches into her pitch with the assuredness of someone twice her age, every word soaked in passion. The way she speaks about reaching Adeline's target market—a younger, savvier audience—reveals a keen insight that keeps us both riveted.

I should be focused on the business strategy she's outlining, but instead, I find myself entranced by how her lips move, irresistibly imagining their softness against my skin. The thought sends a shiver through me, electric and forbidden.

A quick glance at Karl reveals he's just as captivated, his expression betraying the same intense fascination. When our eyes meet over her animated gestures and confident inflections, we share an unspoken understanding—an old and familiar arrangement quietly resurfacing like a specter of past conquests. This isn't our first time here, occupying this charged space where professional and personal lines blur. We've shared women before, yes, each time navigated with precision and care, ensuring no feelings or egos are bruised in the process.

But what makes this situation unique, what sets it apart and makes it both thrilling and risky, are the stakes involved. This is no casual liaison nor mere conquest. This is Zoe. She's ambitious, brilliant, a rising star who matters professionally. The double-edged excitement of pursuing her threatens to disrupt and invigorate our careful business world.

The negotiation proceeds, Zoe holding her ground impressively against our practiced tactics. By the time we order a second round, the contract terms are nearly settled, but the undercurrent of attraction has only intensified.

"One last point," Zoe says, her finger tracing the rim of her glass. "The exclusivity clause. I suggest we modify it to allow for additional collaborative opportunities."

"Interesting," Karl murmurs. "Did you have something in mind?"

"I simply feel there is room to expand beyond exclusivity," she replies, her eyes meeting mine before shifting to Karl's. "Sharing can create greater value if it’s executed with care."

My breath catches. Is Zoe aware of the double entendre? The slight flush on her cheeks suggests she might be. Karl's knee presses against mine under the table—another signal.

"I think we have similar philosophies about collaboration, Ms. Mitchum.”

"Zoe, please," she insists, her lips curving into that radiant smile that's been undoing me all evening.

I clear my throat. "Zoe, then…" Her name feels intimate in my mouth, like a taste of something forbidden. "I believe we're in agreement about the potential benefits of… collaboration."

She takes a deliberate sip of her scotch, eyes never leaving mine over the rim of her glass. When she sets it down, a droplet clings to her lower lip. Karl and I both watch, transfixed, as her tongue darts out to capture it.

"Excellent," she says. "I've always found that the most rewarding partnerships involve a certain level of… flexibility."

"Speaking of flexibility," Karl says, his voice a silken rumble. "I'm curious about what led you to marketing. Your approach is… unconventional."

Zoe leans back slightly, crossing one leg over the other beneath the table. I feel the whisper of her calf against my shin—accidental or deliberate, I can't tell, but the contact sears through the fabric of my trousers.

"Unconventional?" Her eyes sparkle with amusement. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one," I assure her, finding myself leaning closer across the table. "Most people we meet with recite textbook strategies. You speak as if you've lived inside the consumer's mind."

She laughs, the sound musical and genuine. "It's a gift." Her fingers play with her glass. "Marketing isn't just about selling products—it's about understanding desires."

Karl's eyes darken. "And what about your desires, Zoe? What drives you professionally?"

The question skirts the line between business inquiry and personal intrigue. I hold my breath, watching her reaction.

"Freedom," she answers without hesitation. "The freedom to create, to challenge conventions." She takes another sip of scotch, her throat working in a way that makes my mouth go dry. "My mother wanted me to become a lawyer—stable, respectable. But I've always been drawn to the shinier side of business."

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