Page 1 of Coming Home

1

Scarlett

It is a long flight, and my body is weary. The flight from Australia to California is in excess of 13 hours, and today is such a bad day to fly. It has been 12 months since my life changed. It is amazing how you can be deliriously happy one day and completely broken the next. I didn't particularly want to fly today for the sole reason that I knew it would be challenging emotionally. All I really wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry, but Uncle Ray insisted I take this particular flight, saying it would be the best option. I needed to get out of Australia. It was time to move on.

I look out the plane window, admiring the quiet view of the clouds below as my head rests against the wall, and I tuck the airline blanket around me. My legs are aching, matching the pain I have in my heart. The steady hum of the engines is the white noise I need to help me relax.

I stare off into the sky and think about happier times. When my family were all together. My dad was CEO of Clover Real Estate, Australia’s most successful property development company. Developing many of the well-known buildings throughout the country. My mom and my little brother Jimmy—who was only 17 years old and towered over me in height—completed our family unit. I blink back the tears that are welling in my eyes, looking upwards to stop gravity from pulling them down my cheeks.

My whole family was murdered 12 months ago, in what was one of the biggest, unsolved criminal acts ever to have occurred down under. A calculated and evil crime that changed my life forever. I still wake up from the cold sweats and nightmares that plague my brain all too often.

I still shiver at the thought. People say I’m lucky, but I don't think so. The pain of losing them is so strong that every day I wish I had been taken with them. The last 12 months haven’t been easy for me. On top of trying to navigate through my grief, I have also had to hide, change my name, and go into witness protection. Moving every few weeks, I was not able to settle anywhere and lived in fear that those responsible were coming after me, because they still haven’t been found. There are no leads; no one with any strong motive. They are ghosts.

My Uncle Ray, my dad's brother, has encouraged me to move to Boston and live with him and his family. He purchased my plane ticket and got everything organized so I can start a new life, away from all the memories. I will be living and working with them. Uncle Ray himself is a successful businessman in Boston with his own property development firm. He mainly works in commercial properties, whereas my dad's firm was focused on residential. Heatherstone Enterprises builds and develops many of the large buildings in Boston. My talent for numbers will hopefully be an asset to him, and I am looking forward to the new challenge. It sounds easy, but it isn’t. Although, I am confident that no one will find me on the other side of the world. Who would bother to follow me here?

I am short, only 5’4”, but I still need a good stretch, so I am thankful when the plane hits the tarmac at LAX. My head flops back in exhaustion as I am desperately in need of a shower and a bed. I am sure I look even worse than I feel. I only have an hour in transit until I need to catch my next flight to Boston, and I don’t want to miss my connecting flight, so I shake it off and get moving. As soon as I disembark and get through customs, I run straight to the gate to board the next plane, maneuvering between holiday makers, kids, and businesspeople, then speeding my way through security. One of the downsides of living in Australia is that the travel to anywhere takes forever. That and the fact that everyone asks if we ride kangaroos to school. Which we don’t.

I arrive at my next departure gate just in time to merge in with the crowd, and as I board the plane, my thoughts once again go back to my family and my eyes start to well up. I’m not much of a crier in front of others; I usually hold everything in until I am on my own and then burst, because tears in the shower don’t count. Clearly, the long flight has me on edge. I walk onto the plane to find my seat, with my body weary, legs aching, and heart broken. Uncle Ray has arranged a first-class seat for me so I can travel in comfort, but flying for over 20 hours is still hard, whether you are in coach or first class. But at least I can breathe and have some space around me.

Space, that is what I need.

I quickly type out a text to my cousin Stephen—Uncle Ray’s son—to let him know I am on time. He lives in Boston, and although we literally live on opposite sides of the world to each other, we are close; he is like a brother to me. He is one of Boston’s most eligible bachelors and his funny dating stories keep me entertained and always put a smile on my face.

It is quiet in first class. There are many spare seats and those passengers who are on board keep quietly to themselves, which is perfect for me. No sooner have I sat down when the flight attendant comes over offering drinks, which I decline. I don’t eat or drink too much on flights, preferring to stick to water and fruit when possible. Once she leaves, I put my head down against the window and lose myself to the thoughts of the past, before dreaming about what the future could hold. The gentle hum of the engine and vibration of the window is enough to calm any nervous energy I have. I am leaving my past behind me today. Both physically and emotionally. Putting distance between me and my former life is the only way I can move past the darkness and back into the light. Moving to the other side of the world is my drug of choice; I sure hope it works.

2

Shaun

I cannot believe my private jet is out of action; I hate flying commercial. There are too many people in airports, and I just don’t have the patience. They all smell, and the little kids drive me crazy. I need to get home to Boston—fast.

I would be halfway there already if I had my private plane. I pay my people top dollar to ensure all my assets are taken care of, and my plane has never been out of commission before, so I’m not sure what the problem is. While my crew is currently giving it a thorough check over, they won't have a full report to me until the morning.

But that is the least of my problems. I have business meetings piling up that I need to prepare for. Plus, this week, my younger brother, Marco, is doing a keynote speech at the National Business Summit back in Boston, which I promised to attend for moral support.

Marco manages our HR & Marketing Departments at our family business, Marshall & Co, Boston’s larger mergers and acquisitions company. We help businesses acquire, expand, or merge with others to increase profitability. This is a particularly important keynote for him, since it will be given to industry people and key stakeholders. His keynote will no doubt hit YouTube and be seen by up-and-coming new talent, and Marco prides himself on finding the best business brains for our business, which is what makes us so successful.

Business is cutthroat; everyone is poaching people from us and us from them. Loyalty isn’t really a strong trait anymore, and we need loyalty now more than ever. But people were never my game. I network, make connections, and have my family, but I keep my circle close. Business is harsh, and people are fickle. You have to protect yourself.

Having a billion-dollar business is hard work as a CEO, but with my brother also involved, it makes it easier to enjoy. The two of us are a good team. After dad passed away three years ago, I took over as CEO, and now with Marco by my side we are a force to be reckoned with and are inseparable. Even though my head is the only one at the top, I couldn’t do it without Marco. Not only are we brothers, but we’re also best friends.

The two of us and mom are a happy unit now, and although dad is missed by many, we are doing okay. A heart attack at 65 wasn’t planned for him, but his workload and stress played a big part, something my mother continues to remind me about. She also reminds me she wants grandchildren, but I tune out at that point. I’m loving my bachelorhood too much to care about having a steady relationship. Women only ever want one thing from me. Money. I usually only want one thing from them. Sex.

I don’t do relationships. I hate crowds, I dislike large gatherings, I’m not interested in parties or galas, although I do go to a few for business reasons. I prefer close friends, quality establishments, and casual sex. I have enough going on with the business, I don’t need a woman holding me down. I have too much that I want to achieve. There is no time for a relationship.

As I walk toward the departure gate at the airport, weaving my way through the crowd, the thought comes to me that I need a woman for tonight. Someone to take my mind off work and perhaps help me unwind from this flight.

I will text Natalie when I land. I don't know Natalie that well, but after seeing her at a function last week and enjoying her company in the coat room before I left, I have her number and know she would be keen for a repeat. The first time was okay, and while I don’t often go back for seconds, I need a woman when I land, and she indicated she wanted to catch up again. I have that effect on women. Or my money does. All they see is a handsome, single, rich playboy, and I use that to my advantage. They want me and my money, and I want sex with no strings attached. Natalie will be filling that role for me tonight.

As I get on the plane, I notice that there are very few people in first class which pleases me. A nice quiet flight is what I need. I walk down the plane aisle and find my seat. The flight attendant greets me eagerly, offering to take my jacket. “I will have a whiskey, neat, before take-off,” I demand of her before she has an opportunity to ask. I take off my suit jacket and look around, my eyes falling on a young woman sitting across the aisle, causing my breath to catch in my throat. She is fucking beautiful. Her hair is long and thick, the color of honey, and cascades down past her shoulders onto her sun-kissed tanned skin. I’m not sure I have ever seen a woman quite like her. I pass my jacket to the flight attendant and sit down, my eyes not leaving the woman on the other side of the plane.

I don’t make a habit of staring at people. I see beautiful women all the time, but this one has me feeling all sorts of heat, and I want nothing more than to join the mile high club with her right now. She appears to be resting, her head leaning against the window. Looking free of makeup, she is a natural beauty, not needing the fake lashes, trout pout or piles of cover-up that most women put on these days. It is a refreshing change to what I usually see out and about in Boston.

The air hostess comes back with my whiskey, her breasts brushing against my arm as she leans over to place the glass on the tray table. She has undone one of her top shirt buttons, and I can clearly see a hint of white lace and the curves of her breast as I look at her.

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Marshall?” she asks in a husky, sultry tone.

Her tone and her words are clearly outlying to me what she wants. I would usually ask her to meet me in the bathroom after take-off, but that isn’t as appealing as it was 10 minutes ago. I look at her with a wry smile on my face. “I’ll let you know if there is anything else you can do for me.” With a quick nod, she totters off down the aisle in her heels, and I can see her quickly buttoning up her shirt again before anyone else sees her.

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