Sinful Desires (Volume 1)

Episode 1 — Elena's POV I knew I was out of my depth right from the moment I walked into Roman Cortez's penthouse. The man was known for a reputation that preceded him. He was cold, calculating and the kind of billionaire who bought companies the way most people bought coffee. But he had hired me to plan his annual gala, and I'd never turned down a client. Not even one who made my skin prickle with something that wasn't quite fear. The meeting with him had gone as expected as he had outlined his vision in clippers and precise sentences. His dark eyes hadn't left mine and me on the other hand, had taken notes, nodding and assuring him that everything would be flawless. Then, just as I was packing up my tablet, he had stopped me with a single word. "Stay". I froze. His voice was low and commanding, making me turn instantly, expecting some last-minute detail about the centerpieces or the champagne. But instead, he gestured to the leather chair opposite his desk. "Sit". He said. I obliged and sat, my heart already hammering although I couldn't say why. The office was warm, but a chill crept up my spine. "I have a proposition", he said, leaning back. "Beyond the gala". I c****d an eyebrow, my mind already reeling with different things this 'proposition' could mean. "I'm not for hire in that way, Mr. Cortez". A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Not that sort of proposition. Though I'm flattered you assumed I'd be interested". Heat instantly flooded my cheeks. "Then what?". I asked, not quite meeting his eyes. He folded his hands on the polished mahogany. "I need a fiancée. Temporary. For Six months". I blinked, jaw slightly dropping. "You need a...what?". "A fiancée", he repeated as if the word itself were simple. "There are certain business negotiations pending —mergers, acquisitions, partnerships— that would benefit from the appearance of stability. A settled man is a trustworthy man, or so the board believes. I've been... resistant to marriage in the past. But a short-term engagement, carefully orchestrated, would silence the rumours and secure the deals". I stared at him, dumbfounded at the idea. "And you want me to play this role? I'm an event planner, Mr. Cortez. Not an actress". "You organize elaborate scenarios for a living. You manage logistics, personas, expectations. This is no different. A few public appearances, a handful of dinners, and the occasional hand-hold for the cameras. In return, I'll pay you five million dollars". The number hit me like a slap. Five million. It would wipe out my mother's medical debt, fund my sister's education, and let me breathe for the first time in years. But I shook my head. "I can't. I have a career, a reputation. If anyone finds out it's fake—". "No one will find out. The contract will be airtight. And the compensation reflects the risk". "It's not about the money". Why did he even choose me? He tilted his head, studying me. "Name your price". I laughed. It was a sharp but nervous sound. "You can't just double it and expect me to—". "Ten million". The room went silent and I could hear my own pulse thudding in my ears. Ten million dollars. For six months of pretending to be the girlfriend of a man I barely knew. A man who looked at me like I was a puzzle he was determined to solve. "Why me?". I finally asked in a voice that was barely a whisper. It was the question that had been on my mind since he stated his 'Proposition'. "You're professional, discreet, and unattached. No ex-boyfriends clamouring for attention. No family ties that might complicate the narrative. And you're... compelling". His words hung in the air, weighted with something I couldn't even name. So he had done some research about me. I swallowed, my head spinning. "I need to think about it". "Of course". He slid a folder across the desk. "The terms are all in here. But before you decide, there's one more thing". He stood and I followed suit, my legs unsteady. "A chemistry test". I frowned. "A what?". "If we're going to convince the world we're engaged, we need to be believable. The first test is simple. We kiss". My breath caught. "You're joking ". "I never joke about business ". He said, rounding the desk in a bid to move closer, and suddenly, the office felt ten degrees hotter. "This isn't personal, Elena. It's verification. If we can't generate a credible display of affection, the charade will fail. And I don't fail". Every instinct screamed at me to walk out but the ten million dollars whispered louder, yelling at me to stay. I held my ground, chin lifted. "Fine". I said. "A kiss. For the role". He stepped into my space, close enough that I could smell his cologne. It was Sandalwood and something sharp, like ozone before a storm. His hand came up, fingers brushing my jaw with surprising gentleness. I tensed, expecting a perfunctory press of lips. But I wrong. His mouth met mine and it was not perfunctory at all. It was a claim. His lips were warm, firm, and he angled his head to deepen the contact before I could react. My hands flew up to his chest, not to push him away but to steady myself. He took that as permission to move further. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, and I gasped. He used the opening to slide his tongue inside and taste me. The kiss turned wet and hungry like we were both starved of something. I felt his other hand grip my waist, pulling me flush again. The hard planes of his chest pressed into the softness of my breasts and I felt the unmistakable ridge of his erection grinding into my hip. I moaned in a low, involuntary sound that mortified me. He, on the other hand, responded by sliding his hand up, cupping my breast through the silk of my blouse. His thumb found my n****e, circled it, and I arched into his touch, my mind a blank slate of sensation. He squeezed the n****e, not gently, causing me to whimper. Then his hand dropped, trailing down my stomach, over my skirt, until his fingers pressed between my thighs. I was already wet. Embarrassingly enough, I was achingly wet. He felt it through the thin cotton of my panties, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. He broke the kiss, breathing hard and then rested his forehead against mine. His hand stayed where it was, pressing against the damp fabric of my panties. "That", he said, his voice rough, "is what I needed to know". I couldn't speak. My heart was still slamming against my ribs, my body still trembling with unspent need. He withdrew his hand slowly and deliberately. "The chemistry is... sufficient. But this was strictly business. It must never go this far again. Understood?". I nodded, my lips still tingling from the kiss. "Good". He said, stepping back and adjusting his jacket as if nothing had happened. "Come to my office tomorrow. We'll sign the contract". I gathered my things with shaking hands and did not dare meet his eyes. As I reached the door, he spoke again. "Elena". I paused, not turning to him. "This kiss wasn't part of the test". His voice was softer now, almost thoughtful. "It was a declaration. Remember that". Then I fled. But as I rode the elevator down, my thighs still clenched and I knew I'd be back the following day. Not just for the money. But also for the declaration and for the promise of more.