Filthy Commitments: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel

by Michelle Love

  Greg sneered. “So, she saves you from the drink, recognizes you, and thinks ‘hey, meal ticket’.”

  Jakob moved suddenly then, diving across the desk and grabbing Gregor by the throat. “Gregor, you don’t ever talk like that about her again, okay? Or we are done.” He studied the other man’s eyes then released him in disgust. “You’re high at work?”

  Gregor gave a laugh. “Seriously? You’re judging me? Did you think no one noticed at that benefit in January how wasted you were? Don’t be a hypocrite, Jake. You know how much we built because we could use it to fuel our energy.”

  “Yeah,” Jakob said, bleakly. “I remember, and I can tell you now … it’s over. You need to get clean or I’m walking away with my share and you can do whatever the hell you want.”

  He got up and walked to the door. “And I mean it, Gregor, you will speak about and to Quilla with respect, or not at all.”

  He slammed the door behind him, stalked down to the car, and drove out to his dad’s place feeling irked and tired and … pissed. Why was he still in business with that clown? It wasn’t as if he even liked Gregor—the dude was snaky as all hell. Fuck it. He’d talk to his dad—who had warned him about Gregor from the beginning—and work out a way to separate from him without risking the jobs of the people who worked there. Buy Gregor out, maybe. Mallory Fisk didn’t need him anymore and Jakob didn’t need someone like that—such a malevolent presence—in his life.

  As he drove out to the big house, he pushed Gregor to the back of his mind and focused instead on Quilla. He already missed her. Tomorrow he would go over early and see her before work. He still couldn’t quite believe she was his … or that he had fallen quite so hard. He’d always been such a workaholic, but the last three months he realized how much of life he had been missing.

  He steered the car up the long driveway of his father’s home. Despite his billions, Randall Mallory’s home wasn’t a tacky monolith to bad taste. Instead, it was a two-story ranch-style home—large, yes—but not over the top.

  Jakob didn’t bother to knock—it drove him mad that Ran never locked the door, but today he didn’t care. He found his father reading in his library, his beloved dogs asleep at his feet.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  Randall Mallory looked up and smiled, putting his book down. “Well about time, Jakob, come on in. I’ll call for some coffee.”

  The dogs, two loopy Labrador retrievers, jumped up to greet Jakob and he wrestled with them while his dad ordered their drinks. Ran batted the dogs away affectionately and gave his son an awkward hug. He stood back and studied him. “Well now, you look good, Jakob. Healthy. Rested.”

  They sat, Jakob relieved to see his father looking so relaxed himself. Since their mom had died, Ran had gone through life with his usual stoicism but with a stoop to his tall frame, a sadness, an almost palpable sense of bewilderment. Francis Mallory had been the love of his life and without her, Ran wasn’t sure how to exist. His father had never been the archetypal patriarch; he was kind, considerate, brilliant—and lonely and Jakob hated to see him so depressed.

  Now, he smiled at his eldest son.

  “You really do look good, Jakob. Now, tell me about this remarkable young lady.”

  Back in his office, Gregor Fisk had done little work since Jakob had left. He knew his time at the company was at risk and that Jakob held all the cards because at the beginning, it had been the Mallory family who had bankrolled Gregor.

  He hated it. He hated being in debt to a family who, for the most part, hated him. He’d had a plan to change that. Had a plan. And mostly that plan had had to do with Jakob being deemed unfit for service by the Board. Gregor had invested time and had risked everything to procure the highest quality coke. When he’d persuaded Jakob to use a little pick-me-up—the night his mom was buried—he’d had no idea how quickly Jakob would become addicted. He had been using the drug to fend off the pain of losing his mom, of working to prove to his dad that he could take care of the business. Gregor had been waiting ever since to see Jakob fall.

  And now, damn it, he was clean. Gregor had seen it in the healthy pallor of his skin, the clear sclera in his green eyes. All that work wasted. His interest had been piqued when Jakob had admitted the suicide attempt. That would have been … helpful. None of Jakob’s brothers were interested in property—or were qualified to fill his position. It would have been Gregor’s ‘honor’ to take the reins.

  Now this girl had screwed up his plans … twice. Quilla. Gregor smirked. It shouldn’t be too hard to find out who she was, with a name like that. He picked up the phone to call the person he knew could find her, wherever she was in the city.

  Quilla flopped back on her bed, Marley beside her. “God, that was fun.” They had been out at a local bar, a band playing in the background, and Quilla had told Marley everything. Almost. She’d edited the way she had met Jakob—she just said he fell in the water by accident. Normally she would have told Marley everything, but she felt disloyal about discussing Jakob’s pain when they had never met.

  “I still can’t believe it … Jakob Mallory. Damn, girl,” Marley propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at her friend. Quilla looked … amazing. That was the only word for it. Her eyes sparkled, her skin glowed … “Ugh, you are a living loved-up cliché,” Marley grumbled and Quilla laughed.

  “Yes, I am.” She gave Marley a very cheesy, smug grin. “I got mine.”

  Marley snorted. “And then some, by the sounds of it. So, what now? I mean, you lived together for three months so …?”

  “He asked me to move in with him—I said I needed time. That was then, though,” she admitted, “and I thought I was being mature and sensible. But fuck it, if we can go through all of that and be ...” She trailed off when she saw Markley’s doubtful expression and sighed. “Yeah, I know. I just ...”

  “If you say ‘miss him already’, I will vomit on you.” Marley growled, and pretended to throttle her friend. Quilla giggled and Marley relented.

  “Well,” she sat up, adjusting her T-shirt. “I’m going to get a cab. I need to meet this man of yours before you decide to move in with him and be all like ‘Oh we must register for dishware, darling.”

  Quilla pushed her off the bed with a foot. “Yeah, that’ll never happen.”

  “You don’t know. When you’re all Mrs. Billionaire, you can spend your days buffing your nails and giving him blow jobs that you’ve learned from his personal sex sensei.”

  Quilla was crying with laughter. “Yes, because that’s what they do. God, you are a lunatic; my ribs hurt.”

  Marley leaned over and hugged her friend. “I am happy for you and not at all jealous. Nope, not one bit.” She grinned wickedly at her friend, before waving. “I’m outty.”

  “Later, dude.”

  Quilla heard her friend close her front door but lay on her bed still, catching her breath and thinking of the evening and her friend and Jakob—of course, Jakob. She rolled over onto her back, kicking her shoes off and easing out of her jeans. She grabbed her phone. Eleven p.m. There was a message she’d missed.

  Thinking about your lips right now … thinking about what I’m going to do to you tomorrow … J xx

  Quilla grinned. God, why had she said she wanted today to take a breather? She wanted him here, now …

  She shook her head and went to run a bath in her tiny tub. If nothing else, she needed to shave her legs and primp herself for tomorrow. She took her phone in with her—just in case—setting her iPad on the sink to play soft music. She had nearly drifted off to sleep when her phone buzzed.

  She smiled when she saw the caller ID. “Hey, I was dreaming about you ...”

  Jakob gave a throaty chuckle. “Must be catching. How was your evening?”

  “Fun, but it was missing something.” There was a chuckle in her voice.

  “And what would that be?”

  They both laughed. “I hear splashing. You in the tub … naked?”

  “Nope, fully clo
thed.”

  “Funny girl.”

  Quilla grinned. “You still at your dad’s?”

  “No, on my way back into the city. He wants to meet you.”

  Quilla felt a shiver of nervousness and when she didn’t reply, Jakob reassured her. “You’ll be fine; he’s a kitten, really.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Anyway, this tub ...”

  She laughed. “You know, it’s small, but it could fit two people if they were very, very close ...”

  Jakob growled. “Woman, I’m already on my way.”

  “I’ll leave the door open for you.”

  Jakob pushed open the door to the apartment building and quickly ascended the two flights of stairs to Quilla’s apartment. 3E. He pushed on her door and let himself in. Down the hallway, then he was into the living room. There were dimmed lamps on and Quilla, naked and wet from the bathtub, sat on a chair, waiting for him, her posture upright, and a small smile playing around her lips.

  “Hello, baby,” she said softly and slowly, and deliberately spread her legs so he could see her wet, slippery cunt, swollen and ready for him. Jakob let out a long sigh of longing and moved toward her. When he reached her, he bent his head to kiss her and felt her hands at his crotch, unzipping him. She smiled up at him. “Stay still, handsome.”

  She took his already stiffening cock from his pants and glided her lips over the wide crest of it, teasing the ultra-sensitive tip with her tongue. Her hand stroked up and down the length of his shaft while the other cupped his balls and massaged them gently.

  “Jesus … Quilla …” Jakob closed his eyes and let the sensation of her mouth and hands take over his body. God, this woman …

  In moments, he was on the edge and made to move to pull away, but her hands clamped onto his buttocks, keeping him rooted there until, with a moan, he came, shooting into her warm, wet mouth.

  As soon as he could gather himself, he reached down and took her in his arms. “Now that is a wonderful, wonderful way to be greeted.”

  He pressed his lips to hers and wrapped his arms around her small body. “God, I missed you today, Quilla Chen ...”

  “Me too, baby,” she whispered. “Come, let’s get reacquainted ...”

  Gregor walked out into reception the following Monday, on his way to a meeting. He was already annoyed; now that Jakob was back, it was seriously curtailing his usual method of business. Plus, all his private detective had been able to find out was that his girlfriend was a grad student. Gregor had been obsessing over the woman all weekend, sure she was the reason that everything was changing.

  Now, on his way to a meeting, he glanced over to the couches in reception – and stopped. A gorgeous girl was sitting there, waiting, her long dark hair pulled up into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, her slim legs in flared jeans and sneakers. Gregor felt his groin tighten. Glancing over at Maxine, the receptionist, who ignored him, he strolled over to the young woman.

  “Hi.”

  She looked up and smiled. God, beautiful. “Hi.”

  “Can I help you with something?”

  She shook her head. He guessed she must be part Asian; her eyes were a beautiful shape, her features delicate. “It’s okay. I’m just waiting for Jakob.”

  Gregor rocked back. “Jakob … Mallory?”

  She grinned. “Is there another?”

  This couldn’t be her, she was way too young for Jakob … wasn’t she? Gregor stuck his hand out. “Gregor Fisk, Jakob’s business partner.”

  The young woman, who had been sketching, shoved her pad to one side and stood up, taking his hand. “Quilla Chen, Jakob’s … friend.”

  Gregor had to smile at that. “Jake and I have no secrets, Quilla. I know you’re fucking him.”

  Quilla rocked back a little and her smile faded. “It’s Jakob,” she said finally, “and that is none of your business.” She dropped her hand.

  “Everything okay here?”

  Gregor looked around to see Jakob descending on them. “All good. Delighted to meet your beautiful friend.”

  He noticed Jacob move to Quilla’s side and put a protective arm around her. “Hey, baby.”

  “Hey,” Quilla said, her narrowed eyes fixed on Gregor’s. “Let’s go, shall we?”

  Gregor watched them walk away, amused. Quilla Chen wasn’t going to be a problem, he decided. Her clothes, though she wore them well, were cheap—when you put that together with the studentship, the artist … hell, this was going to be easy. He’d pay her to disappear; he knew her type. Always using that off-the-charts beauty to snag themselves a rich one. And by the look of it, Jakob was in deep. Deep, deep. Her leaving would be a body blow. And if she wouldn’t?

  Gregor watched as the couple got into Jakob’s car. Quilla Chen was slightly built. If she wouldn’t go voluntarily … there were other ways.

  Ways that would break your little heart, Jakey boy. Gregor smirked to himself and went to his meeting.

  Quilla drew in a big, shaky breath. Any minute now they would meet with Jakob’s father, and she could feel her palms sweating. She rubbed them on her jeans. Jeans? What had she been thinking? Jakob had said the dinner would be casual, but maybe she had taken him too literally.

  “Stop panicking.” Jakob was watching her, his grin wide. He was enjoying this.

  “Jerk.” She stuck her lower lip out.

  Jakob laughed. “You can punish me later, woman. We’re here.”

  Randall Mallory was waiting as they got out of the car and he walked down, smiling to meet Quilla. “Quilla, I’ve heard so much about you.” He stood only an inch or two smaller than his son, his dark blond hair worn in a flowing, pushed-back way. Elegance screamed from every pore. His handsome face showed little of his age—late sixties—and his smile was genuine and welcoming. His voice was warm and deep and he shook her hand before clapping his son on the back. “We’re barbecuing. Come around back.”

  We’re? Quilla shot a panicked look at Jakob—who seemed to be looking everywhere except at her. Sneaky son-of-a … half grinning to herself, she managed to kick the back of his calf and heard his low chuckle. Ran led them around the house into the huge and beautiful garden. There, she saw a group of people sitting, laughing with each other. A very familiar blond young man was teasing the dogs. Skandar Mallory. Quilla’s nerves came racing back, but she wondered if she could surreptitiously call Marley—she would die of envy. The thought made her grin and she was still smiling when they reached the group. Jakob’s brother Joel, a tall, rangy man, his long blond hair tied back, shook her hand—she was surprised that he appeared shy. Completely unlike his son: Skandar Mallory was everything she expected, confident, arrogant, and a whole lot of fun. Ran introduced her to a gorgeous woman with caramel-colored hair and dark brown eyes. She shook Quilla’s hand. “Asia Flynn. Technically not a Mallory anymore, but they have trouble letting go,” she stage-whispered, winking at Ran, who rolled his eyes. Quilla laughed; she liked the woman immediately.

  In fact, as she met other members of the family, cousins, friends, she wondered at how unlike the stereotype of a rich family they were. If it was possible to be so alike in their temperament and yet so different at the same time, the Mallorys had it down.

  Joel, she discovered, was looking for a new career. “I’ve gone as far as I can, coaching him,” he told Quilla, gesturing at his son, who was now wrestling both the dogs and his uncle. Quilla saw Jakob was losing and grinned at him. Help me, he mouthed to her, and she shook her head, smiling triumphantly. Ha, ha, payback. Skandar raised his arms in victory as Jakob gave up.

  “Isn’t he number one in the world?” Quilla asked Joel, who shrugged and smiled shyly.

  “Yep, but I don’t have the experience he needs now to help him stay there. He’s enjoying it at the moment but it’s only going to get harder. Tennis players have a short shelf life past twenty-five.”

  Quilla groaned. “Too depressing.” Joel grinned and tapped her beer bottle with his. “Preach it,
sister.”

  Asia, she learned, was Kit’s ex-wife. Very recent ex-wife. An entertainment lawyer, she’d married Kit Mallory in Monte Carlo on a whim, five years previously.

  “It was good for four and a half of those years,” Asia told her with a wry grin as evening drew in. “Just didn’t go the distance. I might have left Kit, but I couldn’t bear to leave the family.” She patted Quilla’s hand. “I’m glad Jakob has you. We were worried.”

  Randall Mallory echoed that sentiment an hour later. Feeling brave, Quilla had gone to seek him out and found him in his library. He stood up when he saw her and invited her to sit. He poured some wine for her.

  “Whatever you did for my son, I want to thank you.”

  Quilla flushed. “I didn’t do anything, really.”

  “You are too modest.” Ran’s voice was so soothing, so mellifluous, that it was impossible to feel tense in his presence. “I know my son. Before he met you, before he went to Italy … he was breaking. He was breaking, and I didn’t know what to do. What happened in Venice, Quilla?”

  Quilla shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. “Mr. Mallory—”

  “Ran.”

  “Ran … I respect you very much, but it’s not my place to tell you that. Please, I don’t want to offend you.”

  “Quilla, my dear, if anything, you have proved his faith in you. I’m sorry, but in my position—in his position—I had to be absolutely sure. Jakob told me what happened.”

  Quilla didn’t know how to respond to his testing of her. She chewed her lip. “Ran, I want you to know, I never did anything for any … gain of my own. It was all for him.”

  Ran smiled. “Quilla, believe me when I tell you, I never thought any different. One only has to be in your presence to know your genuine empathy. Your love.”

  He got up, and nervously, she followed suit. He placed his hands on her shoulders and she was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

  “You saved my son,” he said, his voice breaking. “Thank you.”