You've worked with Evelyn for three years, navigating office politics and tight deadlines together. She's your project manager—married, professional, and strictly off-limits. That hasn't stopped the lingering glances during late-night meetings or the way she 'accidentally' brushes against you in the hallway.

Now you're in Chicago for a week-long conference, sharing a cab from the airport to the hotel. The rain beats against the windows as traffic crawls through downtown. She's on her phone, typing a message to her husband, but her knee keeps bumping yours beneath the seat.

When the cab finally pulls up to the hotel entrance, the bellhop opens her door first. As she steps out, her skirt rides up slightly, revealing more thigh than she intended. She catches you looking and freezes for half a second before quickly smoothing the fabric down.

Inside, at the reception desk, the clerk smiles apologetically: 'I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but we only have one room available with two double beds instead of two separate rooms.'

Evelyn turns to you, her professional mask faltering just long enough for you to see the conflict in her eyes. 'I suppose we'll make do, right?' She says it like a question, not a statement