Quilla contemplated for a moment then sighed. “Jakob, what Gregor did … it wasn’t your fault. He’s a psychopath; I knew it the first day I met him. A sociopath. Do you know one of the first things he said to me? He said ‘I know you’re fucking Jakob.” This is a man who’d known me all of five seconds.”
Jakob watched her in silence. She pulled her knees up to her chest unconsciously. “But that doesn’t mean you get to organize my life for me. And why the hell didn’t my boss—or you—mention this before? God … look, I’ll let this one go because of the circumstances, and I love you for wanting to make me happy, but please ...”
“I understand, and I’m sorry.” Jakob sighed. “Look, I’ve been messing up my whole life with the drugs. And I haven’t had a real relationship in a long time, so I’m relearning some of this stuff. Forgive me?”
Quilla smiled. “This time, Mallory. Now, show me again how much you love me
“Seriously, dude, give it up. We’ve been doing this for a month, and I haven’t gotten any better.” Nan twirled her tennis racket at Joel, who grinned back. He held his hands up.
“You’re right. Man, you suck at this.”
She hit a tennis ball at him which he dodged, laughing. “Come on, Martina, let’s get some lunch.”
At the little lunch place he took her to (which, she noticed, had no prices on the menu), they ordered. Then, as they waited for their drinks, Joel laced his fingers in hers. The last month had been blissful, fun, exhilarating—and chaste. What she’d found in Joel Mallory was a best friend, a confidant, a soulmate. He got along with Hayley, he talked to Nan about her work—he had fit so easily into their lives, and she couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t around.
Now, as they ate their crab salads, she was nervous. Because today, she was going to his place for the first time … overnight. And God, she desperately wanted to sleep with him, but the whole idea of being naked with this man was terrifying her and she didn’t know why.
She told him that, and he frowned. “Why?”
Because look at us, look where we’re both from. Different worlds. I’m a schoolteacher; I live in a two-bedroom chalet. But she didn’t say any of that to him. “Maybe it’s just first-night nerves,” she joked awkwardly. He squeezed her fingers.
“You’re thinking about it too much.” He moved his chair so he was next to hers, looping his arm along the back of her chair. His fingers slid along the exposed skin under her arm, drifted up and down slowly. Nan shivered; the feeling was blissful. Joel calmly continued to fork his food into his mouth with his free hand, but now the other hand had moved down to cup her buttock, his large thumb stroking the curve of it. Nan smiled at him. His hand moved to hold her thigh, and his fingertips traced a pattern, sending her blood racing, her breath quickening.
Joel put his fork down and nuzzled her ear. “Nan? Would you like something more to eat?”
She shook her head, concentrating on the furious pulse beating between her legs, his fingers so tantalizingly close to her sex, she wanted to scream.
“Nan ...” God, his voice, so low, so melodic. “Shall we go back to my place?”
She turned her head then and pressed her lips to his. “Yes. Yes.”
The next twenty minutes were a blur of cabs and streets and elevators and now, in his bedroom—his surprisingly modest bedroom—Joel slid his hands to the nape of her neck and untied her halter, letting her dress slither to the floor. With her small, perky breasts, she hadn’t bothered to wear a bra, and he cupped them in his big hands, kissing them as if he were worshipping them. Nan ran her hand through his hair and pulled out the band holding it back. It was silky, and she let the blonde strands fall through her fingers as Joel took her nipple into his mouth. She wavered slightly, and he gathered her into his arms. “Lay back on the bed for me, sweetheart.”
She did so and watched him as he stripped off his T-shirt and jeans. Undressed, he was even more unbelievable, taut chest, broad shoulders, thickly muscled arms. She could see his cock outlined in his underwear, already hard and long. She sat up as he moved to strip his underwear off.
“Wait ...” she said, her nerves gone. “I want to do it.”
Joel let go of the waistband with a smile and she slid her fingers over the top of them and slowly peeled them from him. She gave a sigh as his cock, ramrod hard and erect against his belly, swelled and quivered. She stroked her fingers up and down it, feeling the silky-smooth skin move under her touch. She smiled up at him, then took the sensitive tip into her mouth. She could already taste the pre-cum, salty and rich, and as her tongue flicked around it, she heard Joel suck in a deep breath.
After a few moments, he moved her head away and laid her back on the bed, hitching his fingers around her panties and freeing her from them. He pushed her legs up to her chest and buried his face in her sex, teasing and tasting until her labia swelled and pulsed with desire. Then he took her, sliding in so gently, so slowly, she cried out as he filled her and began to move.
“Joel … oh God, Joel ...”
They moved together, skin on skin, finding their rhythm easily and rocking their hips in unison. Joel kissed her, his tongue massaging hers, exploring her mouth. Nan clung to him, her legs wrapped around his hips, moving up to his waist as she tilted her sex to meet him, allowing him to drive himself deeper into her. God, yes, this was what she had been missing, the connection, the human touch, and the passion. Joel looked at her as if she was the most beautiful creature ever to walk the Earth and at this moment, this wonderful, sensual moment, she believed she was.
Her climax, building, building, building, slammed through her, and she let out a cry of “Oh!” and felt as if she were flying as Joel came, his groan like music to her.
Afterward, they lay side by side, facing each other and talking. She grinned at him.
“Why was I so nervous?”
Joel laughed. “Can I tell you a secret? I was scared to death.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
Nan sighed. “My whole body feels like it’s been rehabilitated. I wasn’t even aware of some of the sensations you brought out in me.”
“Right back at ya,” he said, and kissed her. “Hey, I do have something to talk to you about. An idea I’ve been kicking around for a couple of weeks.”
“Tell me.”
“Remember we had that conversation where you told me teaching Phys. Ed. was a bad fit?”
“Kind of.”
“Well, while I’ve been trying—and failing—to teach you how to, you know, hit a tennis ball.” He laughed and ducked away as she swiped at him. “I got to thinking … you’re right. That was thinking too small. I was thinking— what if we built community sports centers— somewhere where anyone can come and fulfill their curiosity or gain access to the equipment they need? What do you think?”
Nan nodded, her eyes excited. “That’s more like it. I think that’s great—have you talked about it with your family?”
“Not yet, but I’m going to. It really is a basic idea at the moment, and I wanted to run it by you first.”
She smiled. “Really?”
“Really. You, Nan Applebee, in less than a month, became my person. You kind of became my person when you hugged my truck on our first date.”
Nan groaned and covered her face. “God, don’t remind me.”
Joel laughed, then gathered her to him. “Wouldn’t change a thing. Will you help me with this?”
She nodded. “Of course.” She laughed, then rained kisses down on him, making him chuckle. “Of course, I will,” she said, calming down. “I’m your person.”
Joel rolled on top of her. “Well, then, my person, let’s see how else we can celebrate this new partnership ...”
It was the phone call in the middle of the night that woke them both. The landline in Joel’s apartment. For a second, blinking sleep from their eyes, they looked at each other. Then Joel scooted out of the bed and went to answer it. After a few moments, Nan got
up too and went into the living room. Joel was sitting, his head in his free hand, talking in a low tone into the phone.
His whole body seemed to have slumped, his demeanor one of defeat. Nan sat next to him and put her arm around him. God … she knew all about the midnight phone call—it was never good news. She remembered the night the police had come and told her and Hayley that their dad had died suddenly. No accident, no suspicious circumstances, he had just … stopped. The grief was still raw five years on.
Joel locked his fingers between hers. “Okay … right. Thanks. Call me as soon as you know anything more.” He put the phone down and groaned. Nan, her heart pounding.
“What? What is it? Is it that psycho who stabbed Quilla? What?”
Joel shook his head. “No … no, it’s not. A girl’s been murdered, a German tennis player, at the match in Rome. God...Nan ...”
Nan saw the fear in his eyes. “What, baby? What is it?”
Joel closed his eyes. “It’s Skandar. He’s been arrested ...”
Part Three: Trust Me
It seemed to Skandar that even through the walls of the jail cell, he could still hear all the reporters that were outside the Rome police station, clamoring for news on the biggest story of the year. Annika Hahn, dead, murdered, and Skandar Mallory arrested. He kept repeating it to himself, because he couldn’t believe what had happened. Annika was dead. The German tennis ace had only been nineteen. Dead. It didn’t seem possible.
But then, neither did Skandar being awakened early that morning by the door of his hotel room being kicked in and guns aimed at him, cops yelling at him in Italian.
The door outside the cell opened, and his father came in, looking harassed, angry, scared—everything Skandar was feeling. The police officer with Joel opened the cell and nodded for Skandar to step out. Bail was set and paid.
He fell into his dad's arms, and Joel hugged his son. “Are you okay?”
Skandar shook his head. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, Dad. Annika’s dead.”
Joel silenced him with a look. “Later.” He didn’t want Skandar to say anything in front of the Italian police.
Skandar noticed a young blonde woman hovering awkwardly behind his father. Joel introduced her. “Skandar, my girlfriend, Nan.”
The woman had a kind face, and she put a hand on Skandar's arm. “I'm so pleased to meet you, if not under the greatest circumstances.”
Joel was antsy. “Come on, let’s get out of here. We have a suite at the Hassler.”
In the cab to the hotel, Skandar stared out of the window, hollow-eyed. He felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to his head. Joel, not the most effusive father, nevertheless had his arm casually draped over the top of the seat, his fingertips resting lightly on his son’s shoulder. It was a tiny gesture that meant everything to his son. At the hotel, they gave the few paparazzi who were stationed outside the building the slip by sneaking in through the kitchens.
Skandar raised his eyebrows at the opulence of the suite Joel had procured for them. Very unlike Joel Mallory—the most down to earth one of them all—and seeing his reaction, Joel grinned. “Jakob’s idea. Give the impression of huge influence and possible backhanders without ever saying a word.”
Skandar snorted. “Jakob’s a genius.” He grinned a little at his dad. “I thought this was a bit too over the top for you.” He glanced at Nan. “He’s probably showing off for you.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Joel rolled his eyes as Nan giggled, but then his smile faltered. “Skandar, sit. I’ll order some food, then we’re going to talk.”
“Hahn, nineteen, was found strangled to death in a hotel populated by her peers. More than one witness has come forward to say they saw Hahn enter the hotel room of American tennis superstar, Skandar Mallory, hours before her body was found. Mallory, who is the nephew of actor Kit Mallory, was arrested and bailed. He has not yet been charged but has been asked to stay in Rome until the investigations have concluded. Harry Aries is our reporter in Rome. Harry?”
Nan flicked the television off and grabbed her cell. Dialing, she tapped her fingers on her leg, agitated. So much stress—so much had changed in a flash. Still reeling from their first incredible night together, she’d immediately offered to come with Joel, seeing how devastated he had been by the news, although not realizing, she knew now, how much of a big deal this would be. Skandar was in trouble, serious trouble.
“Yo.” Her sister sounded sleepy, and Nan felt guilty about calling her, but Joel and Skandar were with the police, and she was antsy.
“Hey, you. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
“It’s okay, hang on ...” Nan heard Hayley cough and then the rustle of blankets as she sat. “How’s things? Did you break Skandar out of the clink? Are you on the lam?”
Nan suppressed a smile. Even thousands of miles away, Hayley could cheer her up. “Yeah, he got bail—I didn’t ask much. Joel had to lay down for that. Not my business. Skandar is shell-shocked … well, it's hard to say, since I've never met him before, but he's definitely subdued.”
“He didn’t do it, though, did he?”
“Of course not. Skandar's admitting to sleeping with Annika, but says she left after a couple of hours.”
“Is Joel doing okay?”
Nan sighed. “I don’t know. Listen, this has all happened so fast … are you sure you're all right there?”
“Hell, yeah. I have pizza on speed dial and Netflix. I’m good. Just ...”
“What?”
“Are you sure you want to get so involved with that family? I know Joel’s great, but from what you’ve said, he’s the exception.”
Nan frowned. “I didn’t mean to infer the others are shady … just that they’re more focused on what they do. Joel’s more relaxed about things—apart from this, obviously. Skandar’s a good kid, a bit arrogant and careless, but ...”
“I’ll say,” Hayley muttered. “Even if he didn’t do it, he has a reputation for screwing around, doesn’t he?”
Nan couldn't argue with that. After she had said goodbye, she wandered around the suite, feeling out of place. Maybe she should fly home and leave Joel to deal with his son’s predicament.
The door opened, and Joel smiled at her, his face tired. “Hey, gorgeous.”
“How did it go?”
“Well,” he dropped onto the couch, and Nan sat beside him, linking her fingers with his. “They have no physical evidence to prove Skandar had anything to do with the girl's death. The trouble is, they have no physical evidence of who did kill her either, nor a motive for the murder. So far, it all comes down to the word of a couple of witnesses; who, by the way, have gone to ground. They’re not part of the tournament and no one seems to know who they could be, not the hotel, no one. So, at the moment, Skandar remains the sole suspect based on the fact he was the last person to see her alive.”
“Apart from her killer,” Nan added gently, and he smiled.
“Apart from the killer.” Joel sighed and leaned his head back on the couch. “What’s more of a problem is the press. They’re working up to trying Skandar themselves; he’ll be crucified, no matter the outcome of the investigation.”
“Where is he now?”
“The pool, doing laps. Carlos—who is as terrifying as he looks—bawled him out after the police interviews. They’re replacing him in the team for the tournament.”
“Temporarily?” But she knew the answer already. Joel leaned over to kiss her.
“Thank you for coming with me, Nan; it’s made all the difference.”
She gave him a shy smile. “I haven’t done anything; I wish I could make you feel better.”
Joel gave a small chuckle. “Well … I know a way we could relax for a few hours.”
Nan grinned. “Hours? That’s ambitious.”
He laughed. “Give an old guy a break. It would be a shame to waste that enormous bed, wouldn’t it?”
Nan pressed her lips to his. “Why, yes, it would. It would ind
eed ...”
Skandar pushed himself harder and harder into the swim until, at last, exhausted, he hauled himself out. At least the pool was off limits to the press. His publicist, Zoe, a bulldog business person with the face of an angel, was scheduled to fly in tomorrow morning to start on a strategy. Jesus, a strategy. Annika was dead, and he was thinking about a PR strategy. Is this what he’d become?
He could still remember Annika’s smile. She was so much fun, so full of life. God. He refocused, remembering how her athletic body had curved against his, the way her skin felt on his, the way she moaned when she came … he’d had a crush on her since she’d exploded onto the tennis scene two years previously. But, of course, he had to play the cool dude. He unashamedly slept around—the same as any young guy would, and certainly, his cohorts were no angels. But he was Skandar Mallory—Superstar, Billionaire, The World’s Hottest Bachelor, and People Magazine’s Sexiest Man of the Year (beating his uncle Kit into second place—that was satisfying, he grinned to himself). His smile faded. Shit, he thought now, how did I ever think any of that mattered? Annika’s dead. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to let the grief overwhelm him. What he wanted, more than anything was to go home and wall himself up in his large condo. With a pang, he realized, even if all the charges were to be dropped and he could go back to the US, that the press would not let him alone.
Skandar went back up to his room and shut the door. He lay on his bed and took stock. Carlos was this close to quitting; although the Argentinian had committed to at least six months with Skandar, he had a feeling the man would drop him like a stone if he thought his own legacy might be tainted. Fuck him, Skandar thought, if he’s that flighty, good riddance.
He needed a distraction. He grabbed his iPad, then logged onto the sci-fi forum of which he was a secret member. His nom-de-plume was goofy, chosen when he was a fifteen-year-old—SkunkMaladyBibble. It had always made him smirk. He logged in now and checked who was online. He dismissed a couple of the ubergeeks—the ones who corrected anyone and everyone who got any sci-fi fact even slightly wrong—those people were nuts. Skandar smiled suddenly.
Filthy Commitments: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel Page 29