Quinn
The email pinged into my inbox, the sound cutting through the din of the bustling newsroom. My heart skipped a beat as I read the subject line: Re: Interview Request - Lachlan McIntyre.
With trembling fingers, I opened it, my eyes devouring the words hungrily. After months of persistent requests and dead ends, I finally had my chance - an exclusive interview with the notoriously reclusive billionaire, Lachlan McIntyre.
A thrill shot through me, that electric tingle of a journalist on the verge of a huge scoop. This was the story that could make my career, if I played my cards right. Lachlan McIntyre was an enigma, shrouded in mystery and intrigue. A real-life Gatsby, his rise from obscurity to unimaginable wealth was the stuff of legend, his business dealings cloaked in secrecy.
I had made it my mission to unravel the truth behind the myth. And now, I finally had a foot in the door.
The email detailed the terms of the interview - it would take place at McIntyre's private island retreat in the South Pacific. A frisson of anticipation tingled through me. Just getting access to that isolated paradise was a major coup. The billionaire fiercely guarded his privacy, and this island was his sanctum, free from prying eyes.
I could hardly contain my excitement as I hurried to Cat's desk, waving the email printout. "I got it! The McIntyre interview!"
Cat squealed, her eyes widening. "No way! Quinn, that's amazing!" She engulfed me in a tight hug. "I knew you could do it, you brilliant thing!"
Pulling back, she held me at arm's length, her expression turning serious. "Just be careful, okay? This guy's got more secrets than the CIA."
I rolled my eyes, waving away her concern. "Relax, I've got this covered." Determination surged through me. "I'm going to get the real story."
Two weeks later, I boarded the sleek private jet that would whisk me to McIntyre's island, my body humming with nervous energy...
The flight passed in a blur, my mind racing as I mentally prepared myself. What would he be like in person - this man who had remained stubbornly anonymous, despite his staggering wealth and power? The jet's descent snapped me out of my reverie, and I gripped the armrests tightly as we began our approach to the remote island.
Even from the air, it was breathtaking - a lush green jewel set in turquoise waters so vibrant they seemed unreal. As we landed on the private airstrip, I caught my first glimpse of the luxurious villa nestled along the pristine beach. It was a striking blend of modern and tropical architecture, grand yet understated.
A young woman in a crisp white uniform greeted me as I disembarked, her smile polished and professional. "Welcome to Arcadia Island, Miss Jacobs. Please, follow me."
My sandals sank into the soft white sand as she led me along a winding path, flanked by towering palms and lush tropical foliage. The air smelled green and alive, with hints of plumeria and salty ocean. I couldn't help but gaze around in wonder. This place was truly a slice of paradise.
We arrived at the villa's entrance, where a sharply dressed older man awaited, his expression impassive. "Miss Jacobs, welcome. I'm Sims, Mr. McIntyre's estate manager." His clipped British tones commanded respect and discretion.
"Thank you," I murmured, suddenly feeling unaccountably nervous. This was it, the moment I'd been working towards for months.
Sims led me through the open-air villa, our footsteps echoing across the polished teak floors. The interior was sleek and elegant, a masterful blend of modern design and local accents. Through the wall of glass framing the living area, I could see the sparkling infinity pool that seemed to melt into the azure waters of the ocean. Suddenly, I felt horribly underdressed in the white jeans and cotton blouse I was wearing.
"Mr. McIntyre has asked I show you to your room to freshen up. He will meet you in the study at four," Sims intoned, as I internally rifled through the contents of my suitcase to figure out what I had that was appropriate for this opulent setting. Hustling behind the estate manager I caught up with him at the other end of the expansive living room where he was opening a pair of double doors and stepping back for me to enter.
The doors opened into a spacious sitting room with soaring ceilings and rich mahogany floors that was bigger than my entire apartment back in the city. As I stepped into the room, I consciously shut my lips tight to avoid looking like a total bumpkin as my eyes could barely take in the sumptuous luxury and tropical elegance. Plush cream sofas and armchairs were arranged around a large carved coffee table, providing an intimate lounging area. Sheer linen curtains framed the panoramic windows that showcased the breathtaking ocean view just beyond the private terrace.
Sims walked past me and opened another door leading to the bedroom. Wow. The room was a tranquil oasis, the centerpiece being an oversized canopy bed draped in delicate netting. The frame was made of intricately carved teak wood with a plush upholstered headboard. Crisp white linens were topped with a light duvet in shades of aqua and sand. At the foot of the bed sat a vintage leather trunk, adding a touch of old-world charm.
I was drawn to the wall on the far side of the room that consisted of wooden louvered doors that opened onto the terrace, allowing the space to be flooded with natural light and the soothing sounds of the lapping waves. The terrace itself featured a small private pool with a waterfall feature, surrounded by lush tropical landscaping and plush chaise lounges.
Sims cleared his throat, motioning to yet another door when I turned. "And this is the bathroom, miss."
Taking in the spa-like bathroom, I couldn't imagine what else I could possibly want--much less need. The white marble room rivaled any high-end resort I'd ever seen in Conde Nast with its freestanding soaking tub, oversized glass-enclosed rain shower, and dual vanities topped with beautiful fixtures. Every surface glowed with warm lighting, and fresh orchids added pops of vibrant color throughout the space. Luxurious amenities like plush robes, premium toiletries, and fluffy towels awaited.
"Should you need anything else, please just let me know. I will be back to take you to Mr. McIntyre in an hour."
"Uh, thank you Mr. Sims."
"Just Sims, Miss." And with that pronouncement, I was alone in paradise.
QuinnExactly one hour later, a soft knock caused my eyelids to pop open. I'd given up pacing my anxiety away and lay down on the bed, my hands clasped over my chest, trying to remember the meditation breathing exercises I'd learned over the years. It wasn't working."Ready, Miss?" Sims smooth voice flowed through the heavy double doors.Smoothing down the white cotton of the maxi dress I'd chosen for the interview, I took a final cleansing breath, pasted a smile on my face, and greeted Sims.The implacable house manager led me to yet another wing of the house; this one all rich dark wood and soft lighting. Oil paintings of haunting moors and dramatic storms lined the hunter green hallway. Interesting. The rumors were that McIntyre was probably from southern California, but his choice in art was strange for a Cali boy.My musings were interrupted when Sims stopped in front of a dark oak door. The latch clicked loudly as the man turned the large, old-fashioned brass doorknob and motion
LachlanThe storm had come up quickly and had begun to rage outside, but I barely registered the sounds of wind and rain lashing against the windows. My entire world had narrowed to the bewitching young woman sitting mere inches away.Quinn Pearce.The ambitious journalist who had been doggedly pursuing me for over a year, determined to unravel the truth behind my empire. I'd agreed to this interview out of grudging respect for her tenacity, fully intending to reveal just enough to satisfy her curiosity while keeping her at arm's length. Giving her the standard lines and backstory my team and I had carefully crafted over the years.But now, seeing her in front of me with the storm raging around us, I found myself inexplicably drawn to her -- a moth to the flame.It would be so easy to lose myself in those luminous eyes, to drown in their whiskey-warm depths. To let that lush pout of lips part for me, to taste the sweetness of her mouth...The thought sparked a rush of heated need thro
QuinnThe wind howled furiously outside, lashing the windows with stinging sheets of rain. I shivered despite the warmth of the room, feeling unsettled in a way that went bone-deep.My interview with Lachlan had taken an intense, unsettling turn. One minute he was all business, deflecting my probing questions with that infuriatingly vague charm. The next, the atmosphere seemed to thicken and churn with an electric, undeniable tension.The way he'd looked at me, boxed me in with that powerful body...I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to banish the visceral memory. That searing gaze had stripped me bare, igniting a rush of heated awareness unlike anything I'd ever experienced.Get a grip, Quinn. He's just a man - an influential, wealthy one, sure, but still just a man. One who clearly knows how to use his natural magnetism to his advantage.Wrapping my arms around myself, I moved toward the windows, watching the storm's fury escalate. Lachlan's words echoed in my mind."This storm doesn't
LachlanAs the storm continued to rage outside, I sat alone in the dimly lit dining room, the clatter of rain against the windows providing a fitting soundtrack to my darkening mood. The interview had gone differently than I'd anticipated, Miss Pearce's relentless questions and perceptive insights unnerving me.I'd expected her to be impressed by my carefully crafted public image, to accept the stories of my humble beginnings and remarkable rise to power at face value. Instead, she'd probed and prodded, sensing there was more behind the curtain, and that frustrated me.But then, the storm had provided the perfect distraction, the intense electricity in the air mirroring the charged atmosphere between us. I hadn't missed the way she'd responded to me, that subtle flush on her cheeks, the way her eyes had darkened with desire.A smirk tugged at my lips as I recalled the way she'd been drawn to explore my sanctuary, her curiosity getting the better of her journalistic discretion. When I'
LachlanSitting at the end of the long, teak dining table, I drummed my fingers on the table. I couldn't remember waiting so impatiently for anyone, especially a woman. But all afternoon, I'd been anxiously awaiting this dinner like I was some unexperienced teenager. At long last, the sound of soft footfalls on the marble floors signaled her arrival. I couldn't suppress a predatory smile as I inhaled the sweet scent of her perfume, a subtle blend that beckoned me to her like a siren's song.She entered the dining room with slow steps, her eyes adjusting to the candle light. The gown she wore was a simple, elegant affair - a deep navy number that hugged her curves and fell in a graceful cascade to her knees. A thin strap of crystals slung over one shoulder the only thing holding the top of the dress in place. My lips curled at the sight of the rapid pulse point at her throat as I stood to greet her."Mr. McIntyre," she said, her voice a soft murmur in the hushed space."Lachlan," I co
QuinnI held Lachlan's gaze as my fork paused midway to my mouth, waiting for him to continue. The intensity in his eyes made my heart race."The world thinks me a self-made man, an orphan who clawed his way to the top through sheer determination and cunning. But that's not the whole truth," Lachlan said, his voice low and captivating.My eyes widened slightly. This was it - the story I'd been chasing for so long. I hung on his every word, afraid to even breathe lest I break the spell.As Lachlan spoke of his father and his upbringing, I found myself drawn deeper into his world. The candlelight played across his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. When his tongue darted out to wet his lips, I couldn't help but follow the movement, a shiver running down my spine."But you said you came from humble beginnings," I whispered, forcing my gaze back to his eyes. There was a challenge there, unspoken but unmistakable."Humble compared to where I stand now, perhaps," he allowe
QuinnA shiver ran through me at his words. I knew exactly what he was implying, and despite my better judgment, I didn't resist as he pulled me closer until our bodies were flush from shoulder to thigh. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of anticipation and nervousness flooding through me. Surely, he could feel it through the thin silk and cotton of our clothing.What was I doing? This was my subject, my story. But as we swayed to the music, I found it increasingly difficult to remember why that mattered.The heat of his body against mine was almost overwhelming, and I could feel the muscles hidden by his dress shirt flexing and pressing into my breasts. The music seemed to swell around us, our movement melding us closer and closer together. His hand slid farther down my back and rested right above my ass, warm and possessive. All the dancing I'd done up until this point that I'd thought had been sexy and hot suddenly felt juvenile and like a show. I'd never been held and mastered i
LachlanWhen she surrendered and her plush lips hit mine, I moaned into her mouth with relief. My entire body tensing with want. Her fingers tangled in my hair as I held her against the wall, reveling in the feel of her soft body against mine. I could feel the rapid tattoo of her heart against my chest, and the sweet scent of her perfume filled my lungs. I burned with the same desire; my body strained to the breaking point.My lips drifted back up to nip the lobe of her ear before I whispered. softly in her ear, "I want to show you how much I burn for you, leannan. Let me explore every inch of you." My hands began their journey, tracing the contours of her body, up her arms, and down her sides, burning a trail of fire along her skin. I felt her shiver in response, and a low growl rumbled in my throat as my cock hardened even more.Her eyes widened as I reached down and slowly drew the single strap holding up the dress down her shoulder revealing the creamy expanse of the top her full
The air on the island felt different now, heavy and charged, as though the approaching storm wasn’t confined to the sky. The once serene paradise had become a pressure cooker, the weight of it pressing down on Quinn’s chest. She stood by the tall windows of the villa’s living room, the horizon marred by dark clouds rolling in from the sea. The wind had picked up, rustling the palm fronds outside and carrying the salty tang of the ocean through the slightly open windows.Behind her, Lachlan paced like a caged lion, his phone pressed to his ear as he issued crisp, controlled orders. Yet, even in his attempts to exude calm authority, Quinn could see the signs of strain—the way his fingers flexed open and closed at his side, the tension in his jaw as he ground his teeth. His shirt, usually perfectly pressed, was rumpled, and his hair stuck up in places from where he’d clawed his fingers through it repeatedly.“Double the security at the perimeter,” he barked, his voice sharp enough to cut
The study was steeped in shadows, the late afternoon sun filtering through heavy blinds and casting fractured light across the room. The scent of old books mingled with the faint tang of salt carried on the sea breeze, but the air inside was heavy, suffocating.Lachlan stood behind his imposing oak desk, a figure carved from granite, while Clara lingered by the window, her silhouette fragile and waif-like against the glow. Quinn hovered near the doorway, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her mind caught in a tangle of questions she couldn’t yet untangle.Lachlan’s voice cut through the silence, low and sharp. “Start at the beginning. How were you kept from me? Why didn’t I know you existed?”Clara turned from the window, her eyes soft but resolute. “You have to understand, Lachlan, our mother wasn’t like other mothers. She made choices—choices she believed were necessary. Choices that tore us apart.”“Necessary?” Lachlan’s voice rose, his composure cracking. His hands gripped t
Quinn"I'm here to see Lachlan," the woman announced, a musical lilt barely imperceptible in her soft voice.I stood there, rooted to the spot, as Sims' thin lips tightened into almost invisibility. We all stood like statues staring at each other for several breaths before Sims finally ushered the woman inside. She moved with a grace that belied her frail appearance, her eyes darting around the grand hallway as if she took in every detail. It didn't look like she was familiar with the place.I couldn't help but stare at her, my mind racing with questions. Who was she? how did she know where this place was? Did Sims know her or not? I couldn't tell. And why did she seem so familiar?Sims led the woman to the formal drawing room, instructing the maid who had been lurking in the doorway there with a tray and coffee, to fetch Lachlan. I followed despite the austere butler not inviting me, my curiosity piqued. The woman sat down on the edge of the sofa, her hands clasped tightly in her lap
QuinnThe seaplane landed smoothly, the water spraying up like tiny crystals under the sunlight. I'd been surprised when Lachlan had shown me to the small plane as we watched the yacht turn into a small dot on the water the morning after the traumatic ritual I'd witnessed."I need to get home as soon as possible and I'm sure you want to get back to work." His answer had been taciturn and not at all fulfilling when I'd asked, but I'd let it go. At that point, all I wanted off this island as soon as possible and didn't really care what Lachlan's reasons were.Once back on Lachlan's home island, he helped me out of the plane, his hand lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary. As we walked in silence towards the grand house, the waves crashing against the shore the only sound accompanying the slide of our footsteps, I wasn't sure whether I should feel relief or trepidation in returning to the now familiar spaces. With as few words as possible, I retreated to the beautiful roo
QuinnAfter our encounter on the island, we'd come back to the yacht and the gentle rocking of the ocean had lulled me into a state of drowsy contentment as I lay nestled in the plush bedding, the remnants of Lachlan's scent clinging to the sheets. The events of the past few hours swirled in my mind, a chaotic mix of horror, confusion, and a strange, unsettling arousal.The image of the woman on the altar, her lifeless eyes staring up at the moon, the blood dripping from the sacrificial dagger…it played on repeat in my memory, a macabre slideshow that continued to send shivers down my spine. Lachlan's explanation, his insistence that it was all a charade, a necessary deception to maintain control within the Order of the Serpent…it echoed in my ears, a desperate plea for understanding, for trust.And then there was the knife. He had shown me the prop dagger. I had held it in my hand and it had collapsed allowing it to seem to stab but not really. But it was still sharp. My skin pebbled
**Reader warning - This chapter involves consensual knife and blood play. If this is disturbing to you or not your yum, move on, you won't miss any major plot points. If you thinks it's hot, or if you're a little curious, read on dear reader! Don't yuck the yum before you read it! :) xoxo**Lachlan Quinn's body trembled under my hand but she nodded, her eyes never leaving the blade. I smiled to myself. "I need your words for this, my love." "Green, sir," she breathed, and relaxed against the cool wood making my cock jump in anticipation. Jesus, the surrender made me harder than the acacia wood I had her laid."Oh, mo chroi, what a good girl you are," I growled, trailed my free hand through her hair and down her bare back. "Now stay very still unless I tell you." I slipped my fingers under her loose pants followed by the sharp edge of the blade and a second later, they fell to the floor with her shirt leaving her perfect body bare before me spread over my desk. It was a sight I'd co
LachlanThe weight of Quinn's gaze bore into me, her mossy green eyes reflecting a tumultuous sea of doubt and fear. I could see the gears turning in her mind, the struggle between wanting to believe me and the horror she had witnessed. I knew I was asking a lot of her, perhaps too much. But I also knew that our bond, the connection that had grown between us, was stronger than the webs of deceit spun by the Order.I reached out, tracing the line of her jaw with my fingertips. Her skin was soft, warm, and slightly flushed from the emotional turmoil she was experiencing. She didn't pull away from my touch, but her eyes remained wary, questioning."Quinn," I murmured, my voice low, soothing. "I know this is hard for you. I know it's a lot to take in. But I need you to trust me. I need you to believe in us."She bit her bottom lip, a habit I found both endearing and arousing. "I want to, Lachlan. I just…I need something more. Something to hold onto, to prove that what you're saying is tru
QuinnLachlan’s grip felt warm and strong around mine, a stark contrast to the icy grip of fear that still clenched my heart. He led me back towards the villa, his steps measured and calm, as if we were returning me from a collapse at the edge of the sea after witnessing a horrific ritual sacrifice. I stumbled along beside him, my mind a maelstrom of confusion and terror. The image of the woman on the altar, her lifeless eyes staring up at the moon, blood dripping from her fingers was burned into my retinas.He led me back to a study, almost a duplicate of the one in his home on his personal island leaving no further question in my mind as to who this home belonged to."Sit, leannan," he said, depositing me on a small couch. He poured me a glass of amber liquid pressing it into my trembling hands. He sat opposite me in a dark teak armchair, his gaze intense, searching. "Quinn," he began, his voice low and soothing, “what you saw…it wasn’t real.”I stared at him, the brandy sloshing ove
QuinnBefore me lay a sight that would haunt my dreams forever.A sprawling, ancient-looking temple loomed in the center of the clearing, its walls adorned with twisted, serpentine carvings. The air was heavy with the stench of incense and something far more sinister. The chanting grew louder, a cacophony of voices that seemed to come from all directions. My mouth gaped open. I shut my eyes for a long moment, not able to believe what I was seeing. It was like I had dropped into that old movie Romancing the Stone. Surely once I opened my eyes again, it would all be gone.But when I dared to look again, my eyes locked on Lachlan standing at the top of the altar, his eyes closed, his face tilted upwards as if in supplication. He was dressed in a long, black robe, the hood thrown back, revealing the handsome, chiseled features I would know anywhere. Except this time, the face I'd grown to love was cast in dangerous looking shadows, the fire from what had to be hundreds of torches mimickin