Grady laughed at her childlike glee. “The very one. Weirdly, I’m the only one of us who has never been, so it’ll be new to me, too.”
“We can discover it together.”
“We can … the island and each other. For example, I’ve never asked … do you like hiking? Swimming? Exploring? Or are you a sun lounger and paperback kind of girl?”
“Definitely the first, but I don’t mind what we do, as long as I’m with you.”
“Right back at cha. So, I’ll set it up?”
Flori hesitated. “Can we wait a couple of weeks? The thing is, from what Quilla has told me, the island has a very sexy, very sensual vibe and I want to be … ready.”
Grady’s grin was definitely a shit-eating one. “Oh, yeah,” he said, making her laugh. He kissed her. “It’s a deal, gorgeous.”
Flori was thrilled, and she hugged him, wincing slightly as her stomach muscles protested. “It’ll be like the official start of our relationship.”
Grady buried his face in her hair. “The beginning of our life together.”
“The beginning of our lives ...”
Sydney, Australia, 12:15 a.m.
“Gunshot to the chest, no exit, vitals low and falling. Saline and O-neg were given, but patient is losing it as fast as we can get it in.”
Straight to the operating theater, the surgeon ready for their V.I.P. patient. Anesthesia—even though there was still no response.
Ten-blade. Rib-spreaders. Manual heart massage for nearly an hour. The surgeon looked at the clock. “The other one?”
“Gunshot wound to shoulder, not serious.”
The surgeon, getting exhausted now. Another half hour. Checking the vitals, shaking his head.
“Not coming back. I’m calling it. Time of death, one fifty-three a.m.”
Seattle, Washington, 11:00
“Marley?”
Marley Griffin turned around in the line to see who had called her name. Randall Mallory, casually dressed, sweater and jeans, waved his paper at her. “Lovely to see you.”
Marley looked at the customer behind her in the line. “You go ahead. Hi, Randall, how are you?”
“Good, thank you. We haven’t seen you at the big house of late.”
Marley grimaced. “I don’t think Quilla wants to see me.”
Ran shook his head. “Give her a chance. She’s a lot better now, more relaxed. “
Marley gave him a half smile. “Ran, I appreciate you trying to mediate, but maybe it’s for the best. We move in such different circles now.”
The barista called to her. Ran stepped up. “Let me buy you a coffee—do you have time to talk?”
Marley hesitated. She really didn’t want to talk about the rift between her best friend and herself—but Ran was such a friendly, warm man, she felt relaxed in his company—and she could do with a stress reliever. “Okay.”
They sat in a small booth away from the main café and away from the large flat screen TV which flashed rolling news in silence.
Marley stirred her flat white and smiled at Ran shyly. “Thanks for the coffee, Ran. Look, I wish things had worked out with Quilla, but sometimes friends drift apart.”
Ran nodded, but she could see he wasn’t convinced. “Look, pardon me for interfering; I have a tendency to want to make peace. Marley … did you know Quilla and Jakob are married now?”
Marley felt a lump in her throat, but she nodded. “I read it in the paper,” she said shortly, and looked away from him so he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes. He saw them anyway and she felt his hand cover hers.
“I’m sorry, Marley. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“’S okay,” she said thickly, then cleared her throat. “Let’s talk about something else; I haven’t seen you in here before.”
Ran smiled. “I’ll admit, it’s my first time. The coffeehouse I’d been going to for years closed down and I’m loath to frequent the big chains. I found this one by accident; there’s a great secondhand bookstore at the end of the block.”
Marley’s eyes lit up. “You go to The Armchair? I love that store … although I wouldn’t have thought that a billionaire would need to shop secondhand.”
Randall laughed and she noticed just how handsome he was, his dark blond hair streaked through with gray, and his hazel eyes kind and intelligent. “Marley Griffin, surely you of all people must know and appreciate the heady scent of old books?”
She inclined her head, conceding his point. “I guess I have a fixed idea in my head of how billionaires are supposed to act. Forgive my prejudice.”
Ran studied her. “You still don’t like Jakob, though, do you? He can be bloody-minded, surly, domineering,” he said of his eldest son, “But he adores Quilla and would do anything for her. He never saw this thing with Gregor coming.”
Marley leaned forward. “But that’s my point. How could he not have?”
“How many times do you hear the news of neighbors of people who have committed atrocities s saying ‘But he seemed like such a good guy? But she loved those kids?’ People are blinkered.” He sighed, suddenly seeming tired. “We warned Jakob about Gregor. When my wife was alive, she took an instant dislike to the man, but I told her not to say anything to Jakob. Let him make his own mistakes.”
He was silent for a long moment, then smiled sadly at her. “So, if you’re to blame anyone, blame me.”
Marley shook her head, suddenly feeling emotional. “I could never … you’re impossible to dislike, Randall Mallory, gosh damn it.” She laughed, and he smiled.
“Good. Listen, this was fun. Say I’m in here tomorrow morning. If you’re around, I’d like to buy you a coffee and talk some more. I’d like to know about your work.”
Marley flushed pink but nodded. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” Ran stood and held out his hand. She shook it, smiling, enjoying the feel of her small hand in his big one. “Tomorrow then, Marley Griffin.”
“Tomorrow.” She watched him walk out, get to the door, and glance back at her before leaving. Lovely, lovely man, she thought. Her eyes drifted around the coffeehouse and settled on the flat screen. A reporter was talking to the camera; a Breaking News banner ribbon across the bottom of the screen. Wherever the reporter was, it was nighttime, she pondered idly.
Then her heart constricted as a photograph of Kit Mallory and Bo Kennedy flashed up on the screen. In horror, she read the words … shooting … injuries … police ... Marley stood and ran. Yanking open the door to the coffeehouse, she darted out into the street, looking around wildly for Randall Mallory. She saw a figure just entering the bookstore along the block, and she started towards it. Pushing open the door of the store, she searched the shop for him.
She heard a cellphone ring and his voice answering it. She followed the sound of his voice and stopped when she saw him.
The look of utter desolation on his face told her everything she needed to know.
Joel Mallory was about to sign the paperwork to begin work on his first sports center when he heard the door open. He looked up and was surprised to see Nan, her face pale, her expression one of numb disbelief. He went to her immediately, his arms wrapping around her.
“What? What, baby, what is it?”
She stared up at him, shaking her head. “Joel … it’s Kit ...” She couldn’t say any more. Joel pushed her away, staring at her in angry confusion.
“What? Damn it, Nan, what about Kit?”
She gasped in a breath which turned to a sob. “There’s been a shooting, in Sydney … Kit and Bo … it’s all over the news.”
Joel kept shaking his head. “No … no … what … I need to call my dad.”
He started to walk toward the door when she called him back. She walked up to him.
“Your dad called me, Joel, to come bring you to the big house. He’s on his way to Sydney … Joel, God, I’m so sorry.”
He was trembling now, ice in his veins. “Just say it, Nan. Say it out loud or I won’t believe it. Say it.
”
Tears were pouring down Nan’s face now. “I’m so sorry, Joel ...”
“Stop fucking saying you’re sorry and tell me!”
His roar filled the room, and Nan quailed under it, but took his hand. “Joel...” Her voice was cracking. “Kit was shot in the chest. They took him to the hospital and tried to save him, but they couldn’t. Joel, Kit died.”
Every single cell in his body was both numb and yet screaming. “Kit’s dead?”
Nan nodded and now he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His brother. His twin. Gone forever. His world collapsed.
Kit was dead.
A month later …
Ran Mallory stared out of the window of his mansion. Winter was on its way; the fall leaves had dropped, and the bleak look of the trees outside mirrored how Ran felt deep in his soul. He was at a loss to know how he should cope with the loss of his son.
Kit simply hadn’t stood a chance when the shooting started. He had shoved a bleeding and injured Bo into the waiting car and in the second it took for him to steady himself, the bullet slammed into his chest. The doctors at Sydney hospital had worked on him for longer than they usually would, knowing the international spotlight would be on them, but he’d been dead by the time he got to the hospital.
Ran swallowed the scream that always seemed to be threatening to escape him now. For the last month, the family had gone through the motions— public statements with vows to find Kit’s murderer, the funeral, the avoidance of the media since then. The press was relentless in their search for new angles, for clues. They’d rehashed every story from the last year, and the coverage was blanket. None of the family dared turn on the radio or the TV.
At the funeral, he’d help to support Bo Kennedy. The young woman, her arm in a sling from being shot in the shoulder, was pale and shell-shocked, her usual merry and gregarious nature smashed by her grief. Ran had liked her very much and asked her to stay with them for a while. She had politely refused. “It’s too painful, Ran. At the moment, I just want to be with Tiger and my mum. When I see you all—and especially Joel … I can’t. I’d like to in the future, just not now.”
He’d understood, as had the rest of the family. Asia, Kit’s ex-wife, had come to the house as soon as the news broke. She was shattered, devastated. Her partner, Parker Thomas, had accompanied her, and Ran had been impressed by the young doctor’s grace and compassion.
“Hey.”
Ran turned to see Marley smiling at him. He kissed her cheek. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.”
Over the last month, since that day in the coffeehouse, since she’d chased him down to support him, Marley had been Randall’s rock. The young scientist canceled plans and put her own life on hold to support him through the worst time in his life. She made herself available twenty-four-seven in case he needed to talk, or to sob. She became his best friend. Ran was also glad that something good had come from the tragedy; Marley and Quilla had grown close again. Not for the first time, Ran realized that the women in his family were the stronger ones.
“How is it today, one to ten?” Marley said as they sat down outside on the deck. The day was cool but sunny, and Ran’s dogs ran around, playing, barking, making them smile.
“Maybe an eight,” Ran began, then saw Marley’s skeptical face and sighed. “A ten. I can’t imagine a time when it won’t be a ten. How could it be?”
Marley put her hand on his. “I can’t answer that, Ran. But I’m here, so talk to me. Or don’t, entirely up to you. Have you heard anything from the Australian police?”
Ran nodded. “From the weapon used, they think it was a professional hit … God...” He choked on the words. Marley interlinked her fingers with his in a gesture that had become natural between them. Ran drew in a breath. “So, they have a few suspects in mind, but I don’t have any doubt who is behind it.”
Marley grimaced. “Fisk.”
“He won’t get away with this, any of it, Quilla, Flori, Kit. We’re throwing everything at the search; I don’t care if it takes every last penny I have. Gregor Fisk is going to pay for what he’s done.” He looked over at her unhappily. “I am worried that by being here, you’ll be on his radar. Selfishly, though, I could not have gotten through this last month without you, Marley.”
She smiled at him. “Don’t worry about me, Ran; I can look after myself.”
He squeezed her fingers but said nothing. Marley tried to say something to comfort him but found herself lost for words. She desperately wanted to take away some of her friend’s pain, but had no idea how. The rest of the family was equally fractured. Joel, Kit’s twin, had barely spoken to anyone since Kit’s death, especially not his girlfriend, Nan.
“He’s pushing me away,” Nan told her and Quilla, tears rolling down her sweet face. “I can’t reach him.”
Quilla was having the opposite problem; Jakob, already paranoid about her safety as Gregor’s obsession with her grew, was now suffocating her. The independent Quilla was having trouble not becoming annoyed at his constant vigilance. “He tells me if I can go out or not well, he tries to. Then when I disagree, it turns into an argument.” Quilla looked tired. Marley regretted the weeks they had spent distant— it seemed so ridiculous now.
Grady Mallory, the youngest of the brothers, had been the most collected of all of them, quietly supporting his father, his brothers, his nephew. His young girlfriend, Floriana, knew Gregor’s violence firsthand, having only just survived him herself. She told them that Grady would only drop the façade of calmness at home, with her.
“I think it does him good to just let go at night and be as vulnerable as the rest.” Flori had said, and Quilla had hugged her.
“You do him good,” she said. The two women, both survivors of Fisk, shared a bond that Marley felt was healthy for them both.
“I don’t want to think of the fact that he’s out there, planning another murder.” Ran’s voice brought her out of her reverie.
“Ran, you’ll drive yourself crazy like that,” Marley said firmly, and he chuckled softly.
“You’re right. Stay and have supper with me, Marley?”
She smiled at him. “You’ll get tired of me.”
“Never.”
Grady Mallory came home to find Flori had prepared a romantic dinner for them both, and he smiled gratefully at her. Despite her youth, she had known exactly how to comfort him this last, horrific month. Tonight, she was dressed in a simple pale blue dress that fell to a good three inches above her knees, bare feet, makeup free face, and her dark hair tumbling down her back.
“God, you look beautiful,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. She grinned up at him.
“Thank you, baby. I hope you’re hungry.”
Grady kissed her, savoring the taste of her lips. “Damn right, I am,” he said, his words loaded with meaning. Flori pressed her body against his.
“Funny you should say that...” She hooked a leg around his waist, and he picked her up, her slight body light. “I saw my doctor today. Guess what?”
Grady growled, knowing exactly what she was going to say. “This supper you’ve made … can it be reheated?”
Flori giggled, her face flushing scarlet, her breath hitching in her throat. “You bet it can.” She shrieked with laughter as Grady whisked her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. She kissed him, her eyes alive with desire, with excitement. “I’ve waited so long for this moment,” she whispered, and Grady chuckled.
“Me, too, so no pressure, then …” He kissed her throat and trailed his lips across her collarbone, making her shiver with pleasure. His fingers found the buttons of her dress and slowly, he undressed her, kissing every piece of skin as he exposed it until she was gasping. When his mouth found her sex, Flori moaned as his tongue lashed around her clit, his teeth grazing the soft peachy folds of her labia.
“God … Gray ...”
He grinned up at her. “You’re beautiful, baby...”
He crawled up
her body to kiss her mouth as she reached to cup his cock through his jeans.
“I want to taste you,” she whispered and grinning, took her turn to move down the bed. Her small, gentle hands freed his cock from his pants and then her warm, wet mouth was on him, sweeping over the wide crest as it grew and hardened, the tip quivering under her teasing tongue.
As he grew unbearably hard, he lifted her on top of him, his fingers spreading the labia, exposing her wet and ready vagina for him. As he pushed into her for the first time, they both gave long sighs of release, the waiting for this moment making it even sweeter, smiling and gasping as they make love.
Grady ran his hands down over her slender body; the full breasts plump in his hands; the small brown nipples hardening at his touch. The vivid scars from her wounds, from the surgeries, were still bright pink, but he stroked his finger pads gently over them, sliding his thumb into the deep hollow of her navel. Flori was breathless, her thighs tight against him, her skin dewy with sweat.
As their arousal grew, Grady deftly flipped over, sliding her beneath him so he could drive himself ever deeper inside her, her legs clamped around his hips. His hands pinned hers to the bed, and their eyes met and locked. Nothing existed apart from the two of them at this moment, bodies tangled, moving in rhythm.
Grady watched as Flori came, her lovely face flushing pink, her lips parting as the orgasm hit her. God, you are so, so lovely, he thought, and felt his body tense and explode in a hot rush, pumping deep inside her, pleasure making his head whirl.
As they caught their breaths, they stared at each other, kissing, not wanting the connection to fade.
“I am so in love with you, Floriana Morgan,” Grady murmured against her lips, feeling them curl up in a smile.
“You are the love of my life,” she said simply, and Grady grinned.
“Damn straight.” He cupped her face in his palm. “You make everything better, Flori. Everything. Thank you for this last month.”
“I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have—that you did do, in New Orleans. That’s why my heart is so sure about you. I’m so glad I met you, Grady Mallory; I would rather take Gregor’s knife over and over than to have never met you.”
Filthy Commitments: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel Page 44