10. Zoe
CHAPTER 10
ZOE
I lean back against the plush leather seat of the limousine, my mind racing faster than the city lights flashing by the tinted windows. Karl sits to my right, his thigh pressed against mine, while Rolf occupies the seat across from us. His intense gaze makes my skin tingle even in the dim interior.
"Paris," I whisper, testing the word on my lips. "You want me to just… drop everything and fly to Paris? For five days?"
Karl's fingers find mine, his thumb tracing lazy circles against my palm. "Consider it a business opportunity with exceptional fringe benefits," he mutters, his breath warm against my ear.
I laugh despite myself. “That's quite the proposition. I have meetings and responsibilities.” I have nothing going on, but how can I justify leaving the country with two men I hardly know?
“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 suitcase from 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.
"And our place in Paris has a view of the Eiffel Tower."
"Naturally."
"And a huge bed."
My breath catches. "Just one?"
His eyes darken. "That depends entirely on you."
The implication hangs between us, impossible to misinterpret. Both brothers. Again. At the same time. The thought should scandalize me, but instead, heat pools low in my belly.
"Zoe." Rolf's voice is closer now. He stands in the doorway, watching us with that intense gaze. “The car will wait as long as needed, but the pilot expects a departure time."
I look between them—Karl's playful charm, Rolf's steady strength—and decide.
"I need ten more minutes," I say, my voice steadier than expected. "And then I'm all yours. Both of yours."
The look that passes between the brothers speaks volumes. Permission granted, boundaries acknowledged, excitement shared.
Karl returns to selecting clothes while Rolf nods and retreats to the living room. I duck into the bathroom to gather my toiletries, catching my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes bright with anticipation. I barely recognize myself—this woman on the verge of flying to Paris with two men she just met.
"What are you doing, Zoe?" I whisper to my reflection.
The responsible part of me tries to surface—reminding me of deadlines, the presentation I was supposed to prepare for investors next week, and my mother's inevitable disapproval. But for once, I push those thoughts away.
I finish packing in record time. When I emerge with my suitcase, both men rise from my sofa to assist.
"Ready?" Karl asks, reaching for my bag.
"I should call Harper,” I say, my last grasp at responsibility.
Rolf pulls out his phone. "What's the number? I'll handle it."
I blink. "You can't just?—"
"I can be very persuasive," he says simply.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll call her from Paris,” I answer under my breath. Harper will only talk me out of this, and I don’t want to listen to reason. Not now.
Twenty minutes later, I'm settled in the back of their limousine, sandwiched between two of the most gorgeous men I've ever met, on my way to their private jet. This was not how I expected my weekend to go.
Karl's hand rests casually on my knee, his thumb tracing small circles that send shivers up my spine. On my other side, Rolf maintains a respectful distance, but I feel his attention like a physical touch.
"You're very quiet," Karl observes as we glide through the nighttime streets. "Having second thoughts?"
"No," I answer truthfully. I'm just… processing. Last night, I was just regular Zoe heading to a business meeting. Now I'm jetting off to Paris with—" I pause, unsure how to define them.
"With us," Rolf completes my sentence. His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with deliberate precision. "We understand this is unorthodox."
"That's one word for it." I laugh nervously.
"We don't casually do this," Karl says, his voice suddenly serious. "This isn't a habit or a game for us."
"Then what is it?" I ask.
"An exception," Rolf answers.
"Because something about you," Karl continues, "makes us want so much more."
The limousine slows as we approach the private airfield. Through the tinted windows, I see a sleek jet waiting, stairs already deployed, and soft lights glowing from within.
I’ve never been to Paris, and right now, I can’t imagine a better way to experience the city of lights.