Chapter 4— Desire Takes Over

“Robin's POV”

Friday came faster than I expected.

I spent most of the day trying not to overthink it. It was just dinner. Just two people getting to know each other. Nothing to stress about.

Except I was stressed.

I changed my shirt three times before settling on a simple black button-down.

Nice enough for wherever Christopher was taking me, but not so formal that I looked like I was trying too hard.

I ran my fingers through my hair, stared at my reflection, and told myself to relax.

My phone buzzed at exactly seven.

“I'm outside.”

I grabbed my jacket and headed down. When I stepped outside my building, a sleek black car was waiting at the kerb.

The driver opened the back door, and there he was.

Christopher sat in the backseat, looking effortlessly perfect in a dark grey suit, no tie, and with the top button of his shirt undone.

His eyes found mine immediately, and something warm flickered in them.

"Hey," I said, sliding in beside him.

"Hey." His voice was softer than usual, almost nervous. "You look good."

"Thanks. You too."

The driver pulled away from the kerb, and I realised I had no idea where we were going.

"So where are we headed?" I asked.

"A place I think you'll like. Quiet. Good food. Not too pretentious."

"Are you sure? Because you scream pretentious."

He laughed, a genuine sound that made my chest feel lighter.

"Fair enough. But I promise, tonight isn't about impressing you with money."

"Then what's it about?"

He looked at me, his gaze steady and serious. "Getting to know you."

My heart did something stupid in my chest, and I looked away, trying to hide the smile tugging at my lips.

“Christopher's POV”

Robin looked beautiful tonight.

I'd seen him in work clothes, seen him at the party, and seen him relaxed in my apartment.

But sitting beside me in the dim light of the car, he looked different. More open. More present.

I wanted this night to be perfect.

The restaurant was tucked away in a quieter part of the city.

Elegant but understated. The kind of place where you could actually have a conversation without shouting over music or crowds.

When we arrived, the host greeted us warmly and led us to a private table near the back.

Candlelight flickered between us, casting soft shadows across Robin's face.

He looked around, taking it in. "This is nice."

"I'm glad you think so."

We ordered drinks, and the conversation flowed easier than I expected.

Robin told me about a disastrous paint job he'd done years ago, where the client insisted on a colour that looked terrible but refused to listen to his advice.

I told him about a board meeting where one of the executives fell asleep mid-presentation and started snoring.

We laughed. Really laughed, the kind that made my ribs ache.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this light.

"Okay, okay," Robin said, wiping his eyes. "I have to ask. Why me?"

I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"

I mean, you're this successful CEO. You could have anyone.

So why are you here with some handyman who showed up at your office covered in paint?

I considered the question, then answered honestly. "Because when I saw you, I felt something I haven't felt in a long time."

"Which is?"

“Curiosity. Interest. Hope." I leaned forward slightly.

You're real, Robin. You don't perform. You don't pretend. And that's rare in my world.

He stared at me, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. "You don't even know me."

"I want to."

The air between us thickened, charged with something neither of us said out loud.

Robin broke eye contact first, reaching for his wine glass. "You're dangerous, you know that?"

"How so?"

"Because you say things like that and make me want to believe them."

"You should believe them."

He didn't respond, but the way he looked at me said enough.

“Robin's POV”

Dinner was amazing. The food, the conversation, the way Christopher looked at me like I was the only person in the room.

It felt too good. Too easy.

And that scared me.

By the time we finished, the restaurant was starting to empty out.

Christopher paid the bill before I could even offer to split it, and we headed back to the car.

I slid into the backseat first, and Christopher followed.

The space between us felt smaller than before. The driver started the engine and pulled away from the restaurant.

The city's lights smeared past the window, and an awkward hush fell between us. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was heavy, charged with anticipation.

Christopher reached for a bottle of water sitting in the cup holder between us.

Just as his fingers wrapped around it, the driver took a sharp turn to avoid something in the road.

The bottle slipped from Christopher’s hand, sending water splashing over his chest and soaking his shirt.

“Shit,” I muttered, fishing my handkerchief out of my pocket. “Sorry… here, let me help.”

I leaned closer, pressing the cloth against his chest, trying to soak up the water.

But when I lifted my gaze, Christopher was already looking at me.

We were just inches apart. His eyes were dark and intense, and… something in them made my chest tighten and my breath catch.

His hand came up slowly, covering mine against his chest. Stopping my movements.

"Robin," he whispered, his voice rough.

And then he kissed me.

The kiss wasn't gentle or tentative. It was raw and urgent, like he’d been holding himself back for too long and finally couldn’t anymore.

His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and I responded without thinking.

I kissed him back just as hard.

My fingers tangled in his hair. His other hand gripped my waist. Everything else disappeared. The driver, the car, the city outside. None of it mattered.

All that mattered was this.

“Him—Us.”

When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathing hard, Christopher's eyes were wild.

"Come home with me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Stay with me tonight."

I should've thought about it. Should've considered what this meant, where it was going.

But I didn't care; I agreed.

“Christopher’s POV”

The elevator ride up to my apartment felt like an eternity.

Robin stood beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

My hands itched to reach for him again, to pull him close and pick up where we left off in the car.

When the doors finally opened, I led him inside. The apartment was dark except for the city lights streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The moment the door closed behind us, I pulled him to me.

This time, there was no hesitation. No second-guessing.

Robin's hands found the buttons of my damp shirt, undoing them one by one as I backed him toward the bedroom.

Our kisses were messy and frantic, years of loneliness and longing pouring out all at once.

Clothes hit the floor. Hands explored skin. Breath came in ragged gasps.

And when we finally fell onto the bed together, tangled and breathless, I knew I was in trouble.

Because this wasn't just physical. It wasn't just desire.

It was something deeper. Something I hadn't felt in years.

Something terrifying.

“Robin's POV”

I woke up the next morning to sunlight streaming through the massive windows.

For a moment, I didn't remember where I was. Then I felt the warmth beside me, the weight of an arm draped across my waist.

“Christopher.”

I turned my head carefully, and there he was. Still asleep, his face was relaxed in a way I'd never seen before.

The hard edges were gone. He looked peaceful. Vulnerable. Beautiful.

My chest tightened.

What the hell had I done?

I'd sworn I wouldn't let anyone in again. Wouldn't let myself feel like this.

But here I was, lying in Christopher’s bed, tangled in his sheets, feeling things I had no business feeling.

Christopher shifted beside me, his eyes fluttering open. When they landed on me, a faint, almost shy smile tugged at his lips.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

"Morning."

He pulled me closer, burying his face in my neck. "Don't go anywhere."

"I'm not," I whispered.

We lay there in comfortable silence for a while, and for those few minutes, everything felt perfect.

Then my bladder reminded me it existed.

"I need to use the bathroom," I said softly.

Christopher groaned but loosened his grip. "Fine. But hurry back."

I smiled and slipped out of bed, grabbing my boxers from the floor where they'd been thrown the night before.

Christopher's bathroom was as ridiculously luxurious as the rest of his apartment.

Marble counters, a rainfall shower that could fit four people, and towels that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

I used the toilet, then splashed cold water on my face, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Last night had been real. This was real.

And I had no idea what came next.

I dried my hands and opened the bathroom door, ready to crawl back into bed with him.

That's when I heard it.

A phone ringing.

Christopher's phone, sitting on the nightstand beside the bed, screen lighting up in the dim room.

I shouldn't have looked. Should've just ignored it and gone back to him.

But I did look.

And my stomach dropped.

The name flashing across the screen was clear as day.

“Sophie ❤️”

I stood frozen in the bathroom doorway, staring at that name. At that bright red heart emoji next to it.

“Sophie.”

Who the hell was Sophie?

My mind raced through possibilities. A sister? A cousin? An ex-girlfriend?

But the heart emoji said something different. Something that made my chest tighten with a feeling I didn't want to name.

The phone kept ringing, vibrating against the nightstand, and I just stood there watching it like it might explode.

From the bed, Christopher stirred. His hand reached out blindly for the phone, still half-asleep.

He grabbed it and squinted at the screen, and then his entire body went rigid.

The sleepiness vanished from his face instantly, replaced by something that looked a lot like panic.

His jaw clenched. His fingers tightened around the phone.

He didn't answer it.

He just stared at the screen until the ringing stopped.

Then he set it down carefully, running a hand through his messy hair, and let out a slow breath.

I cleared my throat, stepping back into the room. "Everything okay?"

Christopher's head snapped up, and for just a split second, I saw pure guilt flash across his face before he schooled his features into something more neutral.

"Yeah," he said quickly. Too quickly. "Just work stuff. Nothing important."

Work stuff.

At eight in the morning on a Saturday.

With a heart emoji.

I forced a smile and climbed back into bed beside him. "Must be some dedicated coworkers you've got."

He pulled me close again, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. "Something like that."

I let him hold me, let him kiss my neck, and let him pretend everything was fine.

But the warmth from earlier was gone. Replaced by a cold, sinking feeling in my gut that I couldn't shake.

“Sophie.”

I tried to push the name out of my head. Tried to focus on the way Christopher's arms felt around me, the way his breath was warm against my skin, and the way his body fit perfectly against mine.

But I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Who was she? Why did she have a heart emoji next to her name? Why did Christopher look so panicked when he saw her calling?

And why did he lie about it being work?

The doubt crept in slowly, wrapping itself around my chest like a vise.

I'd been here before. With Adam. Ignoring the red flags because I wanted so badly to believe someone actually cared about me.

And look how that turned out.

Christopher's fingers traced lazy patterns on my arm, and I closed my eyes, trying to enjoy the moment.

But the doubt was there.

Quiet. Growing. Poisoning everything, and I had no idea what to do about it.