Filthy Commitments: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel

by Michelle Love

  The FBI chief drove him back to their field office and numbly, he followed the man into the interview room. He answered his questions in a monotone and for an hour and a half, he went through everything that had happened since he had met Quilla, Gregor’s campaign of violence, his stabbing attacks on Quilla and Flori … Kit’s murder.

  The FBI chief, Carter James, finally looked at him sympathetically. “I know it seems like you’re repeating everything ad infinitum, but we never know when the smallest piece of information will be useful. Look, Mr. Mallory, maybe we should go further back, to when you first met Gregor Fisk.”

  Jakob raised his eyebrows. “You think that will help?”

  Carter James nodded. “Maybe. Like I said, any minor detail.”

  There was a knock at the door and a young African-American woman looked around the door. She smiled kindly at Jakob. “Mr. Mallory, your father and brother are here.”

  Jakob felt some of the heavy dread lift. “Thank God. Thank you.”

  Carter smiled at his partner. “Show them in, would you, Ali? Mr. Mallory, this is my partner, Ali Bell.”

  He shook the young agent’s hand and then she left, reappearing a moment later with Ran and Grady. Both his father and his brother looked shocked. Ran hugged Jakob tightly. “This is not your fault, son.”

  Jakob almost smiled; his dad knew him so well. “I’ll try not to think that, Pa.” He introduced them to Carter, then filled them in on what had happened. Ran nodded when Jakob told him what Carter suggested.

  “Good idea.”

  Carter picked up on his tone. “You’ve always had doubts about Fisk?”

  Ran hesitated, shooting a look at his son, and then nodded. “Yes.” Carter looked at Grady.

  “You?”

  Grady shrugged. “I never really knew him, but the few times I met him, he seemed like an arrogant jerk. The trouble with this guy,” he nodded smiling at his brother, “is that he’s fiercely loyal. He never gives up on anyone.”

  Carter nodded. “Maybe you both should sit in on this and give any info you can while Jakob goes through their history.”

  He looked at Jakob, who nodded. “Good. Look, get comfortable, I’ll get some coffee and sandwiches sent it. The quicker we do this, the more likely we are to be able to find Quilla safe.”

  Now …

  Skandar Mallory thanked his practice partner and went to shower. He always felt buzzed after a good session and this one, nearly four hours, had been exhilarating. Good, he needed those endorphins coursing through his blood. Since Kit had died, he had managed to be a support to his dad and his uncles but inside, he was dying. He and Kit had clashed yes, but God … The press intrusion was getting ridiculous and at the moment, the only thing keeping him going was the gorgeous blonde waiting for him at home. Damn, he loved Hayley Applebee, and lately, he’d been churning an idea over and over in his mind.

  He wanted to marry her. He wanted to take her away, like Jakob and Quilla, and get married on a tropical island and call her his wife, hear her say ‘my husband’ and belong to each other forever. It was crazy—she wasn’t even twenty years old yet, but Skandar knew they would be together forever. Done deal, no doubts. He’d even gone online and sought out some unusual engagement rings for her—he knew she wouldn’t want a huge diamond, more something that spoke to who she was in herself, something unique.

  He drove home a little too fast, eager to see Hayley, but when he got there, the house was empty. Swallowing his disappointment, he read her note. Gone out to eat with Quilla. Oil up that fine body and have it ready for me when I get home, slave. Master Hayley. (PS: I love you).

  Skandar chuckled. “Doofus.” He threw his sweaty practice clothes in the washer then grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. He flopped onto the couch, flipping through the television channels to find something to watch. After a couple of hours, he got tired and switched it off, not seeing the Breaking News ribbon and the photo of Quilla that flashed briefly before the screen turned black.

  Grinning, he wrote Hayley a note. Wake me up when you get in, beautiful. He stuck it to the bedroom door so she wouldn’t miss it and went to bed.

  Now …

  Hayley screamed, and Quilla let her breath flood out. The gun was empty. Gregor laughed. “Well, that was fun. Just a little warning of what will happen if you try my patience. Dick, Paul? Untie them. Ladies, there is a bathroom through that door. All the windows are nailed shut, are made of hardened glass, and are alarmed. There will be a bullet for each time you try to escape, do you understand? Behave and you,” he gestured dismissively at Hayley – “might get to live. You, my darling Quilla, well, you already know what’s going to happen to you, but the rules still apply. You try anything, the blonde kid dies.”

  “Let her go,” Quilla begged him. “You have me; you don’t need her.”

  Gregor moaned and kissed her again. “I know I have you, beautiful, and I’m really going to enjoy our time together, but I do need her, mostly to stop you doing anything silly to yourself. You try and kill yourself, try to take that pleasure away from me, then she dies.”

  He stood, his eyes not leaving her face. “You’ll be fed well, and looked after, if you comply. I’ll get them to bring a mattress in for you to sleep on. They’re under orders to shoot Blondie the moment you step out of line. Until later.”

  The other two men silently untied them, then locked the door after them. Quilla and Hayley clung to each other. Quilla could feel Hayley’s entire body trembling. “It’s okay, honey. The fact that we’re not already dead means there’s hope.”

  Hayley scrubbed at her face, wiping blood and tears across her hands. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better, but thank you.”

  Quilla sighed, leaning against her friend. She suddenly felt a chill and re-buttoned her dress, spitting on her fingers to try and wipe Gregor’s ‘target’ off her skin before she pulled the material around her. She closed her eyes and drew in a couple of deep breaths, trying to quell the terror. Try to think logically; she told herself calmly. Make a plan—get Hayley out of here. Quilla knew she would do anything—anything—to make that happen.

  Even if it meant giving herself to Gregor Fisk in every way.

  Then … Twenty-Five Years Previously

  “Jakob Mallory?”

  Jakob looked up from his blueprints and smiled at the young man in front of him. “Yes?”

  The man, dark hair, dark eyes, handsome, polished, held out his hand. “Gregor Fisk. You said to come straight to the site?”

  Jakob blinked, then remembered. The dude from his MBA class. “Hey again. Sorry, brain on autopilot. You want a beer?”

  Gregor grinned. “Hell, yes. My kind of interview.”

  Jakob laughed and snagged a couple of cold ones from his mini-fridge. “Mine, too, although this isn’t an interview, as such. I don’t pretend to be anything than a grad student with an idea. But thanks for responding to the ad; I thought it would be cool to chat; see what your ambitions as far as property are.”

  “Build stuff, make a ton of money, love my work,” said Gregor, his easy smile appearing again. He took a long swig of beer. “My family is all about medicine, but I just don’t have that gene. I want to create something physical, build with my bare hands, design something people have never seen before.”

  Jakob nodded. “Sounds about right. I’m looking to build boutique buildings at affordable prices—now,” he grinned at the doubtful expression on Gregor’s face, “just listen. There’s a whole bunch of graduates like me and you, and even young professionals, who are crying out for affordable housing but also want something polished. I don’t believe we can’t give them that while keeping costs low.”

  Gregor considered. “Okay, so where do I come in?”

  “Well, you want to build stuff—that’s a good start,” Jakob laughed, and Gregor joined in. “My family’s going to stump up the starting capital. As a partner, you would be loaned your share—if you want—and then pay my dad back if a
nd when we make a profit.”

  Gregor nodded but still looked unsure.

  “Look, I haven’t got it all figured out yet. Why don’t we go out for drinks tonight and talk some more?” Jakob looked at his watch. “Say nine o’clock at the Oasis?”

  Now …

  “So you decided to work together that night?” Carter James asked Jakob now, as they sat in the interview room.

  “More or less, maybe a couple of days later. Believe it or not, back then, he was a good guy, always a bit arrogant, but then, so was I at that age. We were young and ambitious, incredibly driven—which is why the company did so well so quickly.”

  There was a knock and Ali Bell came in bearing a tray full of coffee and sandwiches and a very grim face. “Press has the story,” she said. “They’re all outside. Also, your brother Joel is here.”

  Joel came in, his face drawn, Nan behind him. Joel hugged Jakob tightly. “God, I’m sorry, man. Anything we can do?”

  “I’d feel better if Skandar and Hayley were here, safe,” Ran said quietly, and Nan nodded.

  Carter got up. “We’ll send a car over for them—has Skandar got security at his house, a physical presence?”

  Joel shook his head. “He hates being crowded, but it is like Fort Knox. No one’s getting in there.”

  “Still, I agree with Mr. Mallory Sr. Let’s get everyone here.”

  Joel nodded and Ali Bell went to arrange the escort. Carter looked at Jakob. “You ready to continue?”

  Jakob nodded. “Let’s get this done.”

  Now …

  Skandar awoke at the sound of someone leaning on his intercom. He stumbled out of bed, glanced at the clock, and stopped, turning to look at the empty bed beside him. Where the hell was Hayley?

  Dread started to spiral through his chest, and when he opened the door and saw the police officers waiting, his heart dropped.

  “What, what is it?”

  “Mr. Skandar Mallory? We’re sorry to disturb you, sir, but we need you to come down to the FBI field office with us.”

  Skandar stared at them dumbly. “Why?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Mallory; we can’t tell you that.”

  “Am I under arrest for anything?”

  “No, sir, not at all.”

  Skandar drew in a breath. “Look, my girlfriend is due home soon; I’d rather wait for her. Then I’d be happy to come. I don’t want to leave her here alone at night.”

  The officers looked at each other. “Hayley Applebee?”

  “Yeah, she’s gone out with a friend, my aunt-in-law, if there is such a thing.”

  Another loaded glance. “The aunt’s name?”

  “Quilla Chen, or Quilla Mallory, that is … look, what’s going on?”

  The expressions on the officers’ faces had gone from professional to concern. “Okay, Mr. Mallory, I’m going to ask you to come with us now. We’ll leave someone here to bring your girlfriend in later. It is important that you come with us now.”

  Then … Twenty Years Previously

  “Dude, to our tenth project together and for making Mallory Fisk the biggest property conglomerate in the world. To us, man,” Gregor tapped his champagne flute to Jakob’s and grinned. They were standing in the as-yet unoccupied penthouse of their latest residential building, and even Jakob had to admit, Gregor had outdone himself on this one.

  Yeah, it might be a little ways off the vision for cheap, stylish housing that he, Jakob, had, but Jakob wasn’t Randall Mallory’s son for nothing. He had his father’s eye when it came to beautiful aesthetics and this place … damn; Jakob was tempted to buy it for himself. He could afford it now, without even tapping into his trust fund.

  “I’m seriously thinking about taking this place.” Gregor’s word mirrored his thoughts and Jakob half smiled but said nothing. “Look at that view.”

  Mt. Rainier rose out of the gloomy twilight, and the city was a riot of lights, nightlife, and traffic. Jakob could see over to the islands, the ferries moving slowly across the Bay. He loved this city more than anywhere else in the world, and that was saying something.

  “Listen, you want to grab some dinner? Padma said she’d love to see you.”

  Padme Khan, Gregor’s stunning girlfriend, was a human rights lawyer. Gregor had been dating her for a year and a half, was crazy about her, and talked about marriage. Padme herself, smart, brilliant and funny, seemed fond of Gregor, her natural reserve making her hard to read. Yes, she was gorgeous and kind … and for the last two months, she had also been Jakob’s lover.

  It had been an instant attraction that they fought for over a year until one night; Jakob had been working late at the office when Padme had arrived, looking for Gregor.

  “He’s with a client,” Jakob had told her. He offered her a drink, and she accepted. He joined her on the couch in his office, their knees touching as they sipped their scotch. Then she had put her hand on his knee and that had been that. A glorious, delirious, adrenaline-filled fuck later and Jakob was lost. They’d met every couple of days since then—Gregor’s assistant Mandy more than happy to cover for them—Gregor had never treated her, or any of the Mallory Fisk staff, with any respect right from the beginning; the fact that they had any staff was down to Jakob and their loyalty to him. So, Mandy, with more than a little glee, would tell them when it was safe to meet.

  Padme, with her large dark eyes, soft pink lips, and killer athlete’s body, was an energetic and uninhibited lover.

  Both of them felt guilty, but both of them were addicted to the other. They didn’t talk about the future, or make plans, or say I love you. In fact, Padme was adamant. “I don’t love you; I just want you,” she told him, and Jakob was fine with that.

  He agreed to the dinner that evening but didn’t expect Padme to announce she’d had a job offer in London. Gregor, by the look on his face, hadn’t expected it either. Jakob felt sorry for his partner.

  “So, you’re taking it?”

  Padme nodded. “It’s too good an opportunity to miss. I’m sorry, sweetheart; I had to make the decision quickly.”

  “Without me?”

  Padme’s smile was distinctly chilly. “Of course. It’s my career.”

  Gregor hadn’t argued, but he had been silent for most of the evening. The next day at work, Jakob went to see him in his office. “You okay?”

  Gregor smiled, his eyes are distant. “Sure. No big deal. I was thinking of breaking up with her anyway.”

  Yeah, right, but Jakob nodded sympathetically. “Good for you. Moving on.”

  “Pretty sure she was cheating on me, anyway.”

  Uh-oh. “Really.”

  Gregor looked at Jakob for a long moment. Then the corner of his mouth hitched up in a smile. “What do I know? Hey, I could use a drink tonight.”

  “Sure thing.”

  That was the first evening Jakob saw Gregor use cocaine.

  Now …

  “So even back then, he was using.”

  “Recreationally. Not my concern, unless it started to affect the business and actually, he seemed to throw himself even more enthusiastically into the projects we were working on. I struggled to keep up.”

  “So you were sleeping with his girlfriend. His motive for revenge? Seems a little pedestrian for how he’s behaving now. Coke psychosis would go some way … but I’m still not convinced there isn’t something else.”

  Jakob rubbed his head. “Look, can I take a quick break?”

  Carter sat back, tired himself. “Of course. Take ten minutes.” As Jakob got up, another officer came in and handed a note to Carter. “Jakob, wait. Forensics is telling us there was another person in the car with Quilla.”

  Jakob looked shocked. “Who?”

  “We don’t know; they’re bringing up something they’ve found. Can you wait?”

  “Sure.”

  Jakob looked at his family, seated around the table with him. “Thank you all for being here. It helps; it really does.”

  Nan got up and hug
ged him. “They’ll find her, Jakob.”

  Jakob tightened his arms around the blonde woman. “From your lips, Nan ...”

  There was a commotion outside and then Skandar was there, his eyes confused. “What the hell is going on? Why are we all here?”

  Joel got up. “You don’t know?”

  “Quilla’s been taken, Skandar. Her car was ambushed. Her driver was killed, shot.”

  With all the blood draining from his face, Skandar’s legs gave way. “No … God … no …” Joel caught him before he fell, shooting a shocked and confused look at the others. Trembling, Nan stepped closer, put her arm around him.

  “Skandar, where’s Hayley?” Her voice broke when Skandar looked her directly in the eye, his pain obvious.

  Behind her, a man in a lab coat came in and handed something in a plastic evidence bag to Carter. He held it up. “Anyone recognize this?”

  Nan screamed; an agonized howl that tore at everyone’s heart, drawing gasps from the others. Skandar looked up, his eyes heavy and tormented. “It’s Hayley’s hat,” he said in a voice so broken and despairing, it barely seemed human, “She was with Quilla. They took Hayley, too.”

  Now …

  Hayley had fallen into an awkward slumber, Quilla’s arms around her. Gregor’s men had brought mattresses into the room for them, but they huddled together on one. Late fall had brought cold weather, and the thin blankets they had were inadequate. Quill couldn’t sleep. She guessed it was about two or three in the morning, by the quiet in the room.

  She had already checked out anything she might use as a weapon, but Gregor wasn’t a stupid man. The food they were given was all finger food, sandwiches, fruit, stuff that didn’t require even plastic knives and forks. In the bathroom, the toilet had no lid, either on the seat or the cistern. The shower rod was cemented into the wall. Even the soap was just a plain bar, no bottle that could be filled and used to club someone.