Sinful Desire

I woke up to the shrill of my ringtone. Still half-asleep, I groped across the bed for my phone and answered on the second ring.

“Robin, I have great news for you! Dad secured you an interview at McCullen Heights.” Lana screamed with a piercing voice, snapping my eyes open with my heart stuttering as the words sank in.

“Hey,” Lana snapped. “Did you hear me?”

“Well… I…I just can’t believe it. How?” I said, my brows knitting in surprise as my jaw dropped slightly, wide eyed.

“Uh, duh,” she said flippantly. “My dad holds the keys to a lot of high places, darling. The interview is at eleven. Best of luck, friend.”

I tapped the end button and stared at my phone, stunned.

Was I dreaming?

An interview?

After countless unsuccessful interviews over the preceding weeks, I had begun to admit to failure. The outcome remained unchanged, and there weren’t any grounds to expect otherwise in the foreseeable future. I wasn’t one to give up easily, but after the relentless grind of the job hunt, I finally called in a favour from Lana and her dad, Mr. Betton.

I had wanted to navigate the search on my own, to earn my own way without leaning on Lana. But pride had its limits, and I had to admit, I needed help if only to expedite what felt like an endless process. However, I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. I hadn’t expected this so soon.

I called her back immediately and picked on the first ring.

“What’s up? Need directions?” she said teasingly.

“I know my way around. I just wanted to thank you for—”

“Robin,” she interrupted gently but firmly, “we’re practically sisters. I’m glad you came to me, this is nothing. Stop with the formalities. Ace the interview that’ll be thanks enough. Good?”

I nodded, even though I knew she couldn’t see me.

“Hello?” she called. “You there, Rob?”

“Yes. I’m here,” I said finally. “Thank you. I won’t disappoint you. I love you.”

“That’s more like it,” she said. “I’ve got a mountain of papers to grade. Catch you at home later?”

“You bet.”

I hit end, and dropped the phone onto the bed, my pulse still racing. McCullen Heights?

It was only eight in the morning, plenty of time if I didn’t waste it. I launched into my morning ritual with full military focus. A quick workout to shake off the nerves, scrambled eggs, a fruit bowl, and coffee, strong. Always strong. Especially on days when the stakes were high, like now.

After my shower, I slipped into a flowing, floral dress that fell just below my knees—soft and professional. I booted on my laptop as I ran through mock interview questions, pacing the room between answers.

I could not fuck this up.

Two hours and a full mug of coffee later, I was ready –an achievement in itself, considering timelines were never my strong suit. I smiled at my reflection, spun once in front of the mirror, then grabbed my purse and Lana’s car key. She had lent me her Audi A3.

Fingers crossed London traffic wouldn’t test my patience today, or sanity.



Getting to McCullen Heights was quite a gruelling journey, thank goodness for breakfast. I exhaled nervously as the receptionist led me through a flight of stairs and endless trips, in and out of elevators. She finally pointed to a door, and I take tentative steps towards it, a slight tremor ran through my hand as I reached for the door knob. The door expansively displaying a brass nameplate bearing the name, Jack McCullen. CEO.

I drew in a deep breath, then stepped inside.

And froze.

I stood dead in the doorway, utterly paralysed.

He was watching me – his gaze intense, his lips pursed in quiet assessment. Then he stood –a towering behemoth of a man, traipsing from behind his massive desk and moving towards me with long, unhurried strides, clearly registering my inability to move. God, he is so beautiful.

“I’m Jack.”

His low, raspy voice rooted me to the spot, burning my cheeks bright red. Jesus, I’m an obvious hussy.

My heart slammed against my rib cage, breath catching painfully in my throat. My thoughts reeled uncontrollably in all direction sexual, and my mouth doing a terrible job forming words, to say something—anything! Calm the fuck down. I just stood still, staring at him, while he stared back, his piercing blue eyes holding me in place further immobilizing me. My God.

I felt hot and languid…what was happening to me??

He's imposingly tall, burly figure and broad at the shoulders. I gulped at his figure.

He wore a tailored, lush suit with a sharp, pristine jacket over a crisp charcoal shirt, complemented by a finely knotted black tie hanging loosely down the front of his broad chest, completing an impeccable ensemble.

When I still hadn’t responded, he gently nudged my shoulder.

I gulped. God, what is up with me?

This man was… perfect.

His dirty blonde hair was immaculately styled and well-kept, his jaw square beneath a neatly groomed beard that did nothing to hide the handsome features beneath. His eyes were a deep, sapphire blue – intense, bright and far too consuming. He was lightly tanned and infuriatingly composed.

Oh God.

Owner of McCullen Heights?

“Miss Clay,” he murmured, his voice only deepening my paralysis.

I tensed all over. I could hear my heart thudding in my ears. I knew I had to speak—but I couldn’t. I was drunk, and completely captivated by him.

“I’m shutting the door now,” he said calmly, recognising my stupidly tensed state.

He leaned forward, lowering himself to level with my eyes, then whispered in my ear, “Are you okay?” His hot breath sending searing coals to radiate throughout my body, I gasped, clearing my throat loudly afterwards to snap myself out from the embarrassment. I’m so pathetic.

I jolted out of my dazed stupor, agonizingly aware of his intense gaze.

“Hi,” I croaked, my skin flushed. “I’m Robin Clay.”

I extended my hand. He took it gently, the contact sending a shiver straight down my spine. We both released our hands just as quickly as we clasped them.

“I know,” he said, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Come. Sit. Mr Betton sent over your portfolio for a position at our company.”

“Oh,” I murmured, my voice flickering with disappointment. “Is this a communications-only company, yes?”

“Among others,” he replied evenly. “You’ve been directed to our confectionery processing factory the largest in the world. That’s where your expertise lies, no?” he said, his tone clipped, with a quiet confidence.

“Yes, I majored in Food Science,” I said. “I’d be elated to join your company.”

A half-smile tugged at my lips. His sapphire eyes locking onto mine, his voice prickling at my senses as I stared at stunning face. I silently prayed to get through this without humiliating myself.

“Um… what more would you like to know?” I said, fidgeting with my fingers. I had to distract myself.

“I’ve got all I need.”

He did? Confusion flashed across my flushed face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve got the job. How soon can you start?”

My breath hitched. “Um…Immediately?”

“Monday. Keep me posted by submitting a full report of your activities to me.”

“I can do that,” I said, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

“However,” he cooed, “I do have a concern, are you partnered with anyone?”

The question slammed me back into my seat, my thoughts screeching to a halt –wrinkling my nose instinctively.

“That’s a personal question, Mr…”

“McCullen,” he supplied, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I don’t believe I’m obliged to answer that,” I said flatly.

“It’s a question we ask all employees for security reasons.”

Security reasons? This must be a joke!

I nearly laughed. Instead, I bit back the sarcasm threatening to escape and forced a strained smile.

“No... I’m not.”

His lips pursed thoughtfully, releasing them just as quickly.

“Robin,” he said slowly, savouring the taste of my name on his tongue. It took everything in me not to react. I clenched my legs tightly together preventing a violent throb, my groin felt heavy and aching. I was completely rapt by him, which was why I really had to get out of here.

“We’re done for now. I’ll expect your report on Friday.”

Thank fucking God.

I nodded, my face turning crimson.

“Ms Clay.”

I stood, my chair creaking softly. He moved towards me with long strides, closing the distance.

“Please,” he said, holding the chair backwards for me to easily sidestep between the space. “Allow me.”

As I moved pass him, his hand gently brushed my arm and I clenched my jaw, fighting a groan.

“Thank you,” I murmured, meeting his gaze one more time.

“I aim to please,” he replied, his lips curving into a half-smile.

Oh God don’t look at me…please.

I turned my eye away from him, escaping on quaking legs.

I slumped into my car, releasing a shaky sign of relief.

I picked a tissue instinctively from the holder and dapped my face. Had I been sweating the entire time? I slouched forward tapping my head lightly against the steering wheel.

As I drove out from the rear of the building, the interview and Jack’s face continued to replay relentlessly in my mind.

How was I supposed to work with him?

One thought reverberated louder than the rest on my drive back home.

It would take everything in me to resist Jack McCullen!

*******

“You’re home early. I didn’t expect your return this soon,” Lana said, her head buried in the pile of papers spread across the coffee table.

“Well, he got everything he needed.”

Lana lifted her head sharply, her gaze narrowing at me. “How did it go?”

I hurried into the kitchen, pretending to be preoccupied with the blender. I didn’t want to discuss anything concerning Jack McCullen.

“Well?” she pressed.

“It went okay, Lana,” I said curtly, burning instantly by the whole shebang that had unfolded half an hour ago.

“I want the details,” she said, pushing back her chair, and whirling around to face me. “Was he a curmudgeon?” I snickered around a mouthful of cucumber smoothie. “I wouldn’t expect him to be anything less than fifty.”

“I didn’t ask his age though he looked mature,” I said tentatively, “but I’ll be sure to ask next time… and apparently he didn’t need an intensive interview Mr. Betton had already sent over everything.”

Lana studied me closely, gazing at my face “Then why do you look unsettled?”

She was annoyingly discerning.

“He was nothing like what I expected...”

“What were you expecting?” she said, on a shrill. “A gruff old man?” Her stare sharpened on me and I suddenly feel uncomfortable.

“He’s… insanely hot,” I admitted quietly. “And he knows it. Worse—I think he’s aware of the effect he has on me.”

I covered my face with my palms mortified, and feeling ridiculous.

Lana’s lips spread into a wide grin. “I bet you had just as much impact on him. You’re the most beautiful woman I know, Robin.”

She always did that—reminded me of myself when I was trying hard not to feel seen. Especially after Mason. Especially when I was slipping into that dark hole.

“You’re breathtakingly beautiful,” she added softly.

“I appreciate the compliments,” I said, lowering my hands from my face, “but I’m really not ready to jump back into the dating market just yet. I hope you understand.”

Her mouth curved into a smile. “Crystal. But you never know where—or when—you’ll meet the one.”

“What?” I said, rolling my eyes at her.

“Nothing.” She tilted her head. “Do you want to go downtown for drinks? It is fucking Friday.”

“Can we do wine and popcorn instead?” I suggested. I couldn’t go out, I was still swamped by a certain God. “Then out tomorrow? Deal?”

“Sounds perfect,” she said. “Gives me more time to finish this heap.” She gestured at the papers. “Help me out?”

“I’ll take a rain check,” I said smugly. “Last time was terrible.”

“Oh, come on,” she laughed. “It wasn’t that bad. You woke me up, remember? The least you deserved—for allowing the douchebag disrupt our sleep.”

I snarked at her. “You’ve always made it clear you hated Mason. That ship has sailed. Let’s forget about him, okay? I’m taking a warm bath.”

I walked down the narrow hallway, then turned, just when she was about to call after me.

“Help me out when you’re done?” she pleaded, batting her lashes with a pouty expression. That got me every time. That shameless cow.

“Okay, okay,” I relented, sighing. “But just for a few minutes.”

She nodded triumphantly.

“Hope you’re not spending the whole time thinking about Mr. Hot McCullen?” she teased.

I ignored her and shut the bathroom door behind me, still hearing her impish giggles.

He was way too old for me and probably taken…positively taken.

Yet, truthfully?

I planned to roam wild in thoughts about Mr. Hot McCullen.

As I lowered myself into the warm bath, I exhaled shakenly, completely aware of how unprepared I was for whatever was stirring inside me. Whatever hold Jack McCullen already had on my senses, I knew, without a doubt that I was helplessly consumed by him.