Page 13 of Guilty as Sin

“All of which can be rescheduled,” Rolf interjects smoothly, leaning forward. The movement draws my eyes to the elegant lines of his shoulders beneath his tailored jacket. "We have a private jet. We leave tonight. Don’t make us go without you.”

It's not a question. The certainty in Rolf's voice sends a delicious shiver down my spine.

"I want you," Karl adds, his blue eyes darkening. "In Paris. With us."

The limousine slows to a stop outside my apartment building. None of us move.

"Five days," I say, my voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. "What exactly would we be doing in Paris for five days?"

The brothers exchange a look that makes my heart race.

"Business," Rolf says.

"Pleasure," Karl counters simultaneously.

"Both," they finally agree in unison.

My apartment waits above—familiar, safe, predictable. Paris beckons with mystery, excitement, and these two impossible men who have somehow crashed into my carefully planned life in the span of a single evening.

"I'd need to pack," I hear myself say, not quite a yes, but certainly not a no.

Karl's smile is triumphant. Rolf's eyes gleam with approval.

"We'll help,” Karl says, lifting my hand to his lips.

The three of us ride the elevator to my apartment in electric silence. I fumble with my keys at the door, suddenly aware of how small my place will seem to men who own a penthouse off Central Park and vacation homes all over the world.

"It's nothing fancy," I say as I open the door.

"It's charming," Karl says, following me inside. His height and presence immediately make my living room shrink.

Rolf closes the door behind us, sealing us in our little world. "Efficient," he comments, surveying my space with those analytical eyes.

I hurry to my bedroom, grateful for the moment alone to collect my thoughts. Paris. With both of them. The idea is intoxicating and terrifying in equal measure. I pull my suitcasefrom the closet and begin tossing in essentials—underwear, shoes, and a cocktail dress.

"May I?" Karl appears in my doorway, leaning against the frame with casual confidence.

My hands freeze over the suitcase. "I'm just trying to figure out what to bring."

He crosses the room to my closet, browsing through my clothes with the practiced eye of someone who understands fashion. "This," he says, selecting a deep-blue wrap dress I've worn exactly once. “And this.” A silk blouse I splurged on during a moment of financial optimism.

"Don't forget something comfortable for the flight," Rolf calls from the living room.

I laugh nervously. "Are you two always this… involved?"

Karl pauses, hanging the dress over his arm. "Only when something matters to us." His gaze locks with mine. "Someone."

My pulse quickens. "And I matter?"

"More than you realize," he murmurs, stepping closer. "From the moment I saw you, Zoe."

The bedroom suddenly feels too small and too warm. I'm hyperaware of the bed just feet away, of Karl's proximity, and of Rolf's presence in the next room.

"I should finish packing," I whisper, though I make no move to continue.

Karl nods but doesn't step back. "We have champagne chilling on the jet. Now that you’re coming, we can leave earlier than planned.”

"Of course we can,” I say with a small smile.

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