Conflict Of Interest

Candice Dare had spent years orchestrating other women’s love stories through an algorithm she trusted more than most people. Perfect matches never happened. Not once. Then Alison Rey’s profile filled the screen and the percentage locked at one hundred. Only the smaller font beneath it made her breath catch: the match was her own name, buried in the database from years back when she’d put herself in the system and promptly forgotten. Later, when Alison walked into the office in that fitted white dress, Candice delivered the news with a shaky laugh. “The algorithm says it’s you and me. Perfect.” She insisted it was a mistake, that sleeping with a client would break every rule, but Alison just smiled and stepped closer. “You never get these scores wrong,” she murmured. “Why start doubting now?” The first kiss melted the argument. Candice’s palm slid under the hem of Alison’s dress while Alison’s hands worked the buttons of her blouse free. Breasts spilled free; mouths traveled lower. When Alison eased Candice onto the desk, spread her thighs, and dragged a slow, wet tongue from clit to cunt, Candice’s fingers threaded through the younger woman’s hair and held her there. Whatever lines existed had already been crossed. The AI had known something they hadn’t dared to name. Now it was simply giving them both what they wanted.