Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two

by Verne, Jillian

  He tried to suppress a chuckle as she stumbled around the room. God Almighty, she had a great body, curvy and full, absolutely perfect. He couldn’t stand bony women and never understood the societal obsession with skinny girls. A woman should be lush, like an oasis against the hardness of life. Something soft for man to sink into.

  Pity all that gorgeous hair was black, but what a mane. Tousled by sleep, her wild locks curled over her shoulders, covering her breasts as if trying to preserve her modesty. He wanted to reach out and sweep that hair away, replace it with his hands. His tongue. Beautiful tits, she had really beautiful, bouncy tits. So tempting as he watched her scurry around the dark room.

  When she grabbed his shirt, he knew she was about to bolt, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Not until he decided to let her go. He nestled into the pillow and inhaled her seductive scent while he waited for his little bull to come back.

  *****

  Isabella stumbled into the hallway on loose legs. The world tilted beneath her feet.

  Whoa, how much did I drink?

  She felt so disoriented and wobbly. The hallway was very narrow and she moved quickly, if not gracefully, to the light at the end, steadying herself with both hands against the wall as she made her hasty escape. Only to step outside and stop dead.

  Water?

  She looked left. Water. Right. More. She suddenly became aware of the rumble and the gentle sway of the floor beneath her feet. It wasn’t the booze that was making her wobbly. It was the rocking of a boat.

  I'm on the sex god’s boat. She bit her lip. ¡Mierda! Forget what I did. What did HE do!

  Anyone else would be afraid, but not Isabella Rey. The youngest sister of four brothers was pissed off. Her sex god may have a yacht and a scent that could make a woman drool, but he was obviously stupid. Muy estúpido if he thought it was a good idea to call down the wrath of a Spanish woman. Especially one without coffee.

  She stormed back down the narrow hallway.

  Gorgeous or not, she was going to rip that guy’s head off.

  *****

  Jacques sat up as his hurricane swept back into the state room and glared at him.

  “We’re on a boat. A goddamn boat!”

  “Hope you’ve got your passport, sweetheart, or those guys at customs are going to have a good time with you.”

  “What the hell are you saying? Where are we going?”

  She was screaming and waving her fist at him. When she raised her arm, his shirt fell open to reveal the luscious curves of her full breasts. Man, she looked pretty in his shirt. Would look even prettier out of it, but this girl was hopping mad. With emotion like that, she would definitely be a hot lover. Not that he actually knew, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. Her angst was gorgeous and he was really enjoying the show.

  “Don’t worry if you don’t. I know people who know people,” he offered with a nonchalant shrug. “Worst case, I bail you out.”

  “I have my passport, pendejo. In my purse. Where did you put my stuff? I’m leaving. Right now.”

  She was flying around the room, looking under the bed, under the chair, and grunting. But the best part? She’d just called him, Jacques Meszaros, an asshole. Fantastic.

  “Afraid not. Unless you’re a really strong swimmer. We should be in port in an hour.”

  “What port?”

  “Hercules Port.”

  “In Monaco?”

  “Last I checked. We sailed from Chalon-Sur-Saône last night.”

  “I can’t go to Monaco. Not with you. I have a job. ¡Joder! This is a nightmare.”

  She thrust her hands into her hair and the shirt opened wider.

  “That depends on your perspective.” He leaned over and slipped a cigarette from the pack on the bed table.

  “You shouldn't smoke. It's bad for your health.”

  “That’s pretty funny coming from you.” He blew out a puff of smoke, “They’re yours,” and tossed the matches down next to the pack.

  “You still shouldn’t smoke,” she huffed and drew open the drapes.

  His hands shot over his eyes. “Have mercy, sweetheart. After our night, the last thing I need is a blast of morning sunshine.”

  “I’m making you suffer,” she glanced over at him, “good!”

  If looks could kill, he would have been dead on the spot. Instead, he was turned on.

  “And what exactly did we do last night?” she asked as she opened the window.

  “You don’t remember?”

  She shook her head without turning.

  He didn’t say anything, only raised the cigarette to his lips to hide his not-so-subtle amusement. Some may say it was cruel not to let her off the hook, but then again, some may say he was cruel and playing with her like this was fun.

  She whirled around. “¡Chingate! You’re not going to tell me? You’re going to leave me hanging?” Her hands shot toward the ceiling and dropped with a loud clap against her thighs.

  “I’m not the one who drank a magnum of champagne.” He sat up, dragged on the cigarette and ran a hand through his hair, unable to hide his grin. He couldn’t believe the fury coming out of this girl. No one ever talked to him like that and it was hilarious.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what, sweetheart?”

  “Sit there looking sexy. You can’t seduce me. I am not a slut.” She jacked her chin into the air to emphasize her point.

  “I am.” He gave her a lascivious look.

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “That too.” He let the smoke escape his lips as he spoke. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do.”

  “Really, a come on? I am not your sweetheart.” She pointed an accusing finger at him. It may have been a hard gesture, but she had pretty hands too. “You kidnapped me!”

  “Au contraire. You begged me to take you with me. And given the state you were in after the opening, you’re lucky I did.” He let a hint of reprimand slip into his voice and her eyes widened.

  “Pfft. I did NOT beg you to take me to Monaco.”

  He leaned forward, putting his elbows onto his knees, and pointed at her with the hand holding the cigarette. “I wasn’t about to leave you stumbling around the Paris streets dressed to kill and drunk as a skunk,” he announced as if she owed him a favor.

  She glowered at him, unappeased, and the look made him lean back. This one is fearless. Now he was really turned on.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I have a house in Monaco. You know, a little place to get away. I’m having a small get together to celebrate my cousin’s success last night. Why don’t you relax and stick around? It’ll be fun. You can call in sick.” He winked at her. “I’ll even write you a note.”

  “Funny. He’s a kidnapper and a comedian.” She gave him a skeptical once-over. “You are Nicolai Stavros’s cousin? The Nicolai Stavros. The famous artist with the fancy gallery and the pretty wife.”

  “Yeah, except she’s not his wife. Not yet. I’m Jacques Meszaros.”

  Those chocolate eyes flared wide before she forced a bland expression. “Jacques Meszaros. The CEO of Meszaros Enterprises?”

  “At your service.”

  Damn, she recognized my name. Now she would get all serious and deferential like they all did. Bye, bye fun. “Kidding aside. If you really want to go home, I’m not going to force you to stay. I’ll take you to the airport and you can fly home.”

  “How? By flapping my arms. I can’t afford a plane ticket.” She made a short, sharp sound. “But you probably have a private plane, don’t you, Señor Meszaros Enterprises?”

  Okay, maybe not. “Yeah,” he laughed, “but it’s not mine. Darion will let us borrow it though.”

  “Borrow it. Who the heck is Darion?”

  She was shouting again, but at least she’d calmed down enough to stop cursing like a Spanish sailor. No pun intended.

  “Darion LeClair.”

  “The art guru? Jesucristo, S
eñor Meszaros Enterprises has some fancy connections. My roommate babbles about Darion LeClair all the time like the man’s some kind of a god. I suppose you know François Hollande too?”

  “Yeah...” Jacques grinned as her hands shot into the air.

  “¡Por supuesto!”

  “…but he’s not invited to the party. The guy’s a stiff.”

  “Well I’m sure the President of France would be delighted to know that a pillar of the French business community took advantage of an innocent citizen.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Do I really have to spell it out for you?” She swung her hand around the room and down her exposed chest. As soon as she noticed the open shirt, she pulled it closed.

  “I did no such thing.”

  “Don’t act innocent. I woke up naked in your bed.”

  “You were naked because I didn’t want to get puke on the sheets. Your dress is being cleaned. It was very sexy, but I have no interest in fucking a drunk.”

  “I am not a drunk!” She practically lunged at him.

  “You were last night,” he sang.

  Her head fell forward and that black hair swung down to hide her face like a veil. “So we didn’t, um, you know.”

  “No, I don’t. We didn’t what, sweetheart?” Come on, sexy girl. Look at me and say it.

  As if she read his mind, her head snapped up and those bedroom eyes met his. So tempting, surrounded by long lashes and smeared eye liner.

  “Fuck, okay. We didn’t fuck.”

  That was priceless. And seriously sexy. He shifted his body to accommodate his growing erection. “Sad, but true. We did not fuck. But the day is still young.” He winked at her again.

  “In your dreams, pendejo.”

  She obviously didn’t believe him, not for one second.

  “Au contraire encore une fois. From the look on your face, I would say it’s in your dreams.”

  She reached over and threw a pillow at him.

  He yanked his arm away to move the cigarette out of the line of fire. “Fiery, aren’t you? Be careful. You’ll set the boat on fire and I’m not up for a morning swim.”

  “Then you shouldn’t smoke.”

  “Once again, they’re your cigarettes.”

  She let out a sigh. “I bought them last night. I don’t even smoke. I was just feeling sorry for myself and being stupid.”

  The sudden sadness in her voice snapped him right out of his playful mood. “Why?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay. Do you want to talk about breakfast? I’m starved and I know the perfect remedy for a hangover.” He snuffed the cigarette and reached for the duvet.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Her hand shot out to hold it down and her eyes practically popped out of her head.

  “I’m getting up. We won’t get anything to eat if I lie here all day.”

  He yanked the blanket back and stood, completely naked. He had a hard on, but he wasn’t shy. And he had a nice dick. All of this fighting with his fiery new girlfriend made him hot. He laughed when her mouth dropped open and strolled slowly toward the bathroom, giving her a nice long view of his bare backside.

  Another pillow hit the door as he stepped through it.

  *****

  Isabella almost fell over. When she registered that she was alone, she did. Collapsed onto the end of the bed and stared straight up, stunned, blinking and trying to clear away the vision of Jacques Meszaros sauntering across the room au natural. When Craig said take a risk, she was pretty sure he didn’t mean this. She should leave right now, er, the minute they made port.

  As soon as she had the thought, that naughty little voice in the back of her mind whispered, “But where’s the fun in that?”

  So what if she got drunk and wandered off to another country with a guy she didn’t know. He didn’t look threatening. Well he did actually, but not in the psycho, murderer, kidnapper kind of way. And anyway, he was no ordinary guy.

  A person didn’t have to know much about the corporate world to know the name Jacques Meszaros. A grant from the Meszaros Foundation provided funding to alleviate the financial burden on the families of several of her patients. She had referred people to this man for help many times even if she was only today seeing his face.

  The guy was loaded and a big time philanthropist. He took care of her when she was sick and she wasn’t exactly in a prison. She was on a yacht sailing to Monaco for a party with a bunch of famous gazillionaires. Not exactly a hardship.

  She relaxed a little and looked at the crumpled duvet that replaced that big lump of male seduction. The image of her sexy-as-sin kidnapper running his beautiful hand through his sinful hair had a flood of dirty thoughts running through her head.

  Forget the hair, Isla. He was naked. Complete, wonderful, magnificent male naked. Desnudo. Nue. Nude!

  She giggled, kicking her legs like a little girl, and rolled into the warm spot Jacques left on the bed, inhaling him again. Maybe she would stick around for a while and see what happened. Like Jacques said, it would be fun.

  Not normal, Isla. Not normal at all.

  *****

  Words. Muttered words. Something about a dog named Fluffy and skyrockets.

  Teo opened his eyes to a room he didn’t recognize, next to a woman he didn’t recognize. The last thing he remembered was Nati, a rubber dress and gin.

  Lots of gin. Wild, wild night.

  He pecked a kiss on the mumbler and rolled over looking for a clock. He found a pyramid of fluffy stuffed animals smiling from their perch on the night table instead.

  Creepy.

  His eyes shot back to the woman - or at least he hoped she was a woman – lying next to him. Gracias a Dios. The room might look like it belonged to a teenager, but his naughty new friend from the Dungeon was definitely not a little girl.

  Stuffed animals and rubber dresses. Who is this chick?

  As he sat up, his stomach churned at the sickening-sweet smell of her perfume. She must have sprayed the shit around the room like air freshener. Even he smelled like a flower bed. Reaching for his pants, he plucked out his iPhone. 8:05 a.m. Looks like I'll be sporting the eau de sex and girly girl for another couple of hours. Given the look of…what’s her name?... he could slip away unnoticed, but he wasn’t a complete pig.

  “Hey, gorgeous. I have to go.” As he shook her shoulder, the guilt kicked in. No one deserved to be treated like this. Fucked in a drunken stupor by some jerk who couldn’t remember her name. Yet, he did it. Again.

  Maybe I am a complete pig.

  His fingers combed through his hair, pushing the long strands back from his forehead. Why couldn’t he just accept who he was instead of beating himself up every time he indulged?

  Because you indulge all the wrong women instead of the only one who ever loved the real you.

  He leaned over to press a tender kiss on last night’s lover and whispered, “I’m sorry, baby.” Shoving away another handful of hair, he moved to stand and his feet landed on a body.

  “Get the fuck off me.” Nati’s strangled voice croaked from the floor.

  “Get up, Sleeping Beauty. Maurice will kick our asses if we’re late.”

  “I can’t with your feet planted on my chest. God, man, is that stink you?”

  Teo shifted and Nati’s head rose over the side of the bed. The guy had the most innocent pretty-girl face, even hung over after crashing on the floor, but one gander at those dark eyes and you knew he was anything but.

  “I think, um, she likes perfume.” Teo tilted his chin toward their sleeping friend.

  Nati flashed eyes at him. “Forgot her name, didn’t you, lover boy?”

  “Shut up and get a move on.”

  “What about Maryann? Or was it Marie Clair? Fuck, I can’t remember her name either, but she was sure fun. Maybe we can get her to that thing with her legs again before we cut out.”

  Teo groaned as memories of their night together started flash
ing though his mind.

  “Oh, Jesus. Don’t go there, Teo. There are two kinds of women, man, and this kind loves this shit. She was barking like a dog, begging you for it. Remember?”

  Unfortunately, he did.

  “I feel sorry for her. I can’t help it, Nati. If she had someone to look out for her, this…” he waved a hand across the rumpled bed, “…wouldn’t happen.”

  “If she had someone to look out for her, we’d be bruised and battered, my friend.”

  The comment made him think of Isla and what he would do to any guy who treated his angel like he treated his lovers. He’d skin the bastard alive. But Isla wasn’t anything like the woman next to him. She was the other kind of woman and she did have someone to look out for her. Four someones actually.

  “You’re a joy kill, Teo. Let’s get out of here before Mary-Rubber Dress wakes up and starts calling you Fluffy again.” Nati barked at him and started cracking up.

  Teo raised a finger in salute. A thousand years and he would never live this one down.

  As they left the apartment, he dialed his little sister.

  4

  Isla Paradisíaca

  My, oh my. What do we have here?

  Jacques watched a very different woman wander onto the deck with her hair wrapped in a towel and wearing his robe. If she thought she looked sexy last night, it was nothing compared to how sexy she looked right now. Her face was flawless, even without make-up. She had rose lips that begged to be kissed, the bottom one a bit more plump. And her eyes. They were dark chocolate seduction. No embellishment necessary to lure a man into those.

  “I suppose ‘good morning’ is overdue. Sit and drink this.” He handed her a glass and no, it wasn’t a request. “This is my personal anti-hangover remedy. It will make you feel better. Our breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”

  “Gracias, Jacques.” His name sounded musical in her accented voice.

  The benches along the stern were long, but she sat right next to him, which made him smile. And no argument about the drink. Very interesting.

  “Ugh! This tastes awful. What’s in it?”

  “You don’t want to know,” he said with a laugh. “Drink.”

  She took another sip, her obvious trust remarkably appealing.