When ambitious journalist Quinn lands the scoop of a lifetime - an exclusive with the reclusive billionaire Lachlan McIntyre - she never imagines it will lead her into the eye of a storm... both literally and figuratively. Trapped on Lachlan's private island by a raging typhoon, Quinn finds herself drawn into the orbit of this magnetic older man. As the wind howls outside, Lachlan's carefully constructed walls begin to crumble, revealing dark secrets that could destroy everything he's built. With each passing day, the heat between them intensifies. Quinn knows she should keep things professional, but how can she resist when Lachlan looks at her like she's the answer to every question he's ever had? As Lachlan opens up, sharing his deepest thoughts and desires, Quinn realizes she's stumbled upon the story of a lifetime. But at what cost? The longer she stays, the harder it becomes to decide whether her feelings or career or more important. When the clouds finally part, Quinn faces an impossible choice: pursue the truth that could make her career, or protect the man who's captured her heart? Will Quinn choose ambition or love? Can Lachlan let her go once she knows it all?
View MoreQuinn
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.
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
Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.
Comments