Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two

by Verne, Jillian

  Okay, she definitely did that on purpose. Isabella lit his fire and now she was playing with it. If she wants to burn...

  He started toward her, then abruptly stopped. Turning toward the door without a backward glance, he spoke over his shoulder. “My favorite is the beaded one in the front, but it’s a very daring dress. Without confidence, a woman cannot be truly beautiful. Pick whichever you would feel most confident in. I’m sure you will be lovely in any of them. I’m tied up most of the day. Andre will be here at six to do your hair and make-up. My driver will pick you up at eight. Be ready.”

  Without another look, he jacked his chin high and marched out the door.

  *****

  As soon as the door slammed, Isabella flopped onto the bed in a fit of self-satisfied giggles. Her compassion for people allowed her read them fairly easily and she’d read Jacques Meszaros perfectly. Thirty-six hours and she knew he was a man who led with his head, but who wanted to follow his heart. He wanted, maybe even needed, the comfort of a woman to help him deal with the demands of his world, but he kept people at arm’s length. Even lovers and that word probably wasn’t appropriate for the type of relationships he had.

  She would never claim to understand what it felt like to walk in Jacques's shoes - they were very big shoes - but she was sure that someone in his position had learned to be callous to the users and the takers who surely sought him out. His circle of trust was very small. He mentioned a few men, but no women.

  If she only listened with her ears, she would have taken him up on his offer to stay in Monaco with no strings attached. But she didn’t only listen with her ears. Even though she wasn’t his lover, the connection between them was shockingly intimate. The intensity of it scared her and she wasn’t afraid of intimacy.

  He was.

  But the tone of his voice, his body language and the way his eyes absorbed her told her very clearly that his heart was drawn to her. Judging by the bulge in his pants as he stormed out of the room just now, so was his body. But as expected, that strict, analytical mind was telling him to walk away.

  This morning, he tried, but she wasn’t about to let him. He would fight, but he wouldn’t win. She wanted him and it was high time that someone took care of Señor Meszaros Enterprises.

  At least for a little while.

  *****

  “Sa sa’ a ye? What’d you do to this gorgeous hair?” Andre rolled his eyes in the mirror behind her and Isabella had to laugh at the drama.

  Andre, as it turned out, was a genuine diva from Haiti. Flawless black skin, huge gold hoops and sparkling red lips sat atop six and a half feet of cut muscle, although stilettos provided the last six inches. She adored queens and Andre was marvelous. Finally someone she fit with.

  “It’s not that bad.” She scowled at him in the mirror.

  “Sa’a pa bon! It’s awful, sugar. Who did this to you?” he asked with sympathetic disapproval.

  “My roommate. We were going to a party.”

  “Mmm. Mmm. Mmm. What kind? Night of the livin’ dead.”

  “Can you change it back? My natural color is red and well, Jacques likes red.”

  “M regrét. I can, but you won’t be ready by eight.” He shook his head as those big hands pulled up on the long black strands, letting them fall one by one back onto her shoulders. “Nine maybe, but not eight.”

  “Then we’ll be late,” she declared.

  Andre shook his head again. “Ou fou? Jacques say eight.”

  “So.”

  “Sew buttons. Are you his sister?”

  “His date.”

  Something crossed Andre’s face.

  “What?”

  “You’re gorgeous, Isla, don’t get me wrong, but you and that man, not an easy match.”

  “Explain.”

  Andre ran his hands through her hair, twisting it this way and that to figure out what to do with it. “You’re strong willed. Maybe too much for a man like Jacques. Hmm.”

  “Am not.” She frowned, then lit with excitement. “You know about him, Andre. Tell me everything. Right now.”

  “You’re makin’ my point for me, sugar.”

  Andre began to trim her hair and she glowered at him in the mirror.

  “Oke. Our boy likes to get his way and he does. In everything. He’s sexy-as-sin and rich as a bitch. There’s no challengin’ a man like that.”

  “You forgot to mention that he’s a Dom,” she shot back, annoyed with Andre’s attempt to be vague.

  “Sus pan! That’s hush, hush, sugar. Don’t fit the public image.” Andre shook one long manicured finger in the mirror and brought it to his lips.

  “But in private?” she prompted, raising an eyebrow at him.

  He laughed out loud and the hearty sound boomed around the bathroom. “That naughty, naughty boy makes me blush. You know about the Order too?” Those long fingers fanned in front of his exposed chest.

  She shook her head.

  Andre’s voice suddenly became very animated. “They’re all like Jacques. Gorgeous, loaded and kinky as the night is long. Some kinda secret club for masters of the universe, comin’ from all around the globe to party in Monaco.

  “Jacques called his last party, 'The Painted Lady Parade.' Guess who did the paintin’?” He blew her kiss in the mirror. “My, oh my, I have never, I mean never in all my life, sugar, seen anything like that. Those boys party like rock stars. Kinky rock stars.”

  *****

  Joe Lee was losing his patience and he didn’t have much to begin with. He’d shelled out reams of cash and still, the incompetents who passed as his lawyers hadn’t done their damn job. He supposed the old adage was true. If you want something done right, do it yourself. But it would be stupid to escalate until the less risky options failed so he kept listening.

  “The judge has refused our request to postpone. If the hearing happens on schedule and Timonen prevails in lifting the temporary restraining order, they could be back under construction in about ten days. We’ve thrown every legal road block into their path, but you should prepare yourself. We are going to lose at that hearing.”

  Every legal road block. Well there was the problem right there.

  Meeting over.

  As his secretary ushered his legal pussies out of his office, Blake walked in. “Nothing?”

  “Not a damn thing.” Joe Lee crushed his cigar in the crystal ashtray on his desk, imagining it was his nemesis’s head and his anger surged. “Every man has an Achilles heel. Find it.”

  Blake nodded. No explanation needed. His son understood.

  Sabin Timonen would rue the day that he fucked with the Hartnells.

  *****

  Isabella had seen pictures, but they didn’t come close.

  As she stepped out of the limousine, Jacques stood above her like a prince on the red carpet covering the stairs to the Grand Casino. Behind him, an iconic piece of architecture. Around him, hundreds of elegantly dressed people. Flashing lights popped everywhere. But none of it compared to the perfection of Jacques Meszaros in a tuxedo.

  It felt surreal, somehow symbolic, as she climbed the stairs to take his outstretched hand. Like she was a red phoenix rising. As soon as he touched her, that familiar connection sparked between them and a gentle pull guided her up the rest of the way. The awe in those intense eyes said everything even before he spoke.

  “You take my breath, Isabella.” Jacques kissed her cheek and lingered there.

  The Isabella that Andre had created had taken her breath as well. She wore the beaded red dress, the one Jacques preferred, and to say it was daring was a joke. Thin ruby straps supported a deep V of beaded silk that hung daringly wide over the curves of her cleavage. Another V dropped over her exposed back to the cleft of her bottom. The shimmering weave clung to every inch and pooled at her feet into an elegant train. Andre slicked her black hair into a low bun, pulling it tight away from her face. To complete the look, he painted her lips a glossy red and accented her eyes with heavy curved lin
es and dramatic gold makeup, carrying the sparkle into her hair. She’d never felt more beautiful in all her life.

  Putting her hands on Jacques’s shoulders, she pressed her cheek to his and closed her eyes, momentarily overwhelmed by the scene around them. His long fingers wrapped around her waist to anchor her until she regained her composure. When she turned, flash bulbs blinded her as paparazzi snapped picture after picture of the mogul bachelor and his pretty date. She squared her shoulders and smiled.

  When the media moment was over, they climbed the rest of the stairs to enter the Grand Casino. A huge banner hanging over the entryway read "The Annual Meszaros Foundation Charity Ball."

  “I thought you said a small get together to celebrate Nicolai’s opening,” Isabella whispered.

  “It’s only an intimate group of five hundred or so, and my cousin is the highest priced auction item in the program. After the success of his opening, they’ll all be panting for the opportunity to get close to him.” Jacques laughed. “I wonder if any of them realize what they’ll be getting themselves in for.”

  “Are you selling a date to the highest bidder?”

  “Julianne wouldn’t stand for that. We’re auctioning a portrait by him.”

  Images of Julianne from the opening flashed into Isabella's mind and a little gasp escaped her lips at the thought of posing for someone like Nicolai Stavros.

  Jacques pulled her into his side and purred, “If you want to be the object of that portrait, Isabella, you will be. I guarantee it.”

  Several people greeted Jacques eagerly, and her painfully, as they approached the ballroom. As soon as they stepped over the threshold, every head turned.

  “Nervous?” he asked without turning as they walked into the spotlight.

  “Scared to death.”

  “You don’t show it. That’s very impressive, Mademoiselle Rey.”

  “Four brothers. Oncology nurse. Remember? Poker face required,” she said without turning her head or breaking her brilliant smile.

  Jacques did the same, but his voice suddenly slipped into that sexy voice that made her want. “That sounds like a challenge, Isabella? Do you want me to discover all the secrets hidden behind that lovely poker face?”

  She gave him a breathy, low, “Yes, Jacques.”

  The sound he made in response could only be described as obscene.

  The music died away and a voice came over the sound system. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce your esteemed host, Monsieur Jacques Meszaros, the president and CEO of Meszaros Enterprises and the founder of the Meszaros Foundation.”

  The room exploded into an effusive burst of applause as Jacques headed to the podium, pulling her along with him.

  “Bienvenue, mon amis.” He raised his hand and the applause died away. “Welcome, my friends. On behalf of the boards of directors of Meszaros Enterprises and the Meszaros Foundation, welcome.”

  Jacques let go of her hand and picked up the little cards on the podium to begin his speech.

  “As I look into this crowd, I am profoundly humbled by the generosity of the people here tonight. We have come together in support of a great cause. One that is very close to my heart. The Meszaros Foundation is dedicated to alleviating a burden that plagues so many. We are part of the global fight against cancer. Our research grants enhance the effort and success rates for the most sophisticated cancer treatment facilities. Our funds also support the lowliest because we believe that every human being shares the right to the dignity of adequate medical care. The generosity of good people like you makes this possible.”

  He set the cards on the podium and paused for a fraction of a second too long. Turning to pull her next to him, he continued. “I would like to introduce you to a very special person in you midst tonight. Mademoiselle Isabella Rey is an oncology nurse at the Institut Gustave Roussy. She is one of the many people who carry out our mission in the world. Every day, she serves people afflicted by cancer. Tonight, you are not simply writing a check to the Meszaros Foundation. Through Isabella and people like her, you are touching people and caring for them. If you don’t believe me, ask Isabella what her days are like and how much something as simple as your signature can positively affect the lives of so many people. Let her actions be an inspiration to each and every one of you as you consider your donation. Thank you and enjoy the evening.”

  Jacques took her arm over his to guide her to the dance floor. “Come on. Let’s dance.”

  “And if I say no?” she teased.

  “You won’t.”

  *****

  The crowd parted and they made their way to the center of the floor. As they danced, Jacques was lost in his thoughts. In the middle of the crowd, a place where he always felt so alone, he suddenly wasn’t.

  He’d found an oasis.

  Isabella was a perfect blend of fire, compassion and confidence. She’d only had a few lovers, enough to have some idea about what she wanted, but not so many that she was jaded. She’d seen the harder side of life, but there was nothing hard about her. She dedicated her life to caring for those in the most dire circumstances and the bravery it took to do that was inspiring. And if he thought she was pretty before, he was dead wrong. She was the most beautiful fucking woman he’d ever seen because her light came from the inside.

  This woman was paradise.

  And utterly unique. In the midst of his speech, it hit him. He respected her. He canned his script, much to the dismay of his speech writers, and introduced her because he wanted everyone in the room to hear her perspective on charity, not his. Hers was better.

  It wasn’t as if he didn’t respect women. He had hundreds on his payrolls and several in his innermost brain trust, but none of those women were lovers, nor would they ever be. In the construct of his life, the two worlds of Jacques Meszaros never met.

  But they just collided in Isabella Rey.

  The epiphany opened the floodgates and his past came back to him in a wild rush. Everything he hadn’t seen before crystalized in his mind with diamond bright clarity. He’d been doing it all wrong. If a woman didn’t play by his rules, she didn’t play. He dictated every aspect of every interaction, never compromising anything himself. Never offering them anything real. Always keeping the man inside hidden behind a hard wall. They were nothing but toys and like the spoiled boy he was, he played with them until another caught his fancy.

  When he entered the Order, Darion wanted him humbled. Wanted him to know exactly what it felt like to have the things he liked to do, done to him. And then some. When a Master like Darion LeClair teaches a lesson, you learn it. Every hideous little detail scorched into your mind, your body, your soul, in excruciating depth. He learned despite himself, but he never truly understood, never tempered his actions and as the years passed, only hardened more.

  Standing with Isabella on a crowded dance floor, he finally got Darion’s message. Loud and clear. Hard dominance was all well and good if that was your kink, but it wasn’t enough. Without respect for a lover, it was a meaningless exchange. He harbored a high ideal for his perfect match and he was on the wrong path to achieving it. Without respect for his lover, he would never achieve it. That was the lesson Darion had been trying to teach him.

  The woman in his arms softened him. He’d already broken so many of his own rules with her and it felt right. The difference was respect. As he stroked his hands along the gentle curve of Isabella’s spine, felt her luscious frame melded into his, something inside of him jarred, then settled into place. He suddenly knew exactly what he wanted and it wasn’t what he’d had before. He wanted to take a chance on something real.

  And he wanted to do it with Isabella Rey.

  He would never be a plain vanilla lover, not by a long stretch, but with a man like him, maybe Isabella would embrace her sexuality. Together they could build on it to create something magnificent. Exactly what that would be, he didn’t know yet. What he did know was that for the first time in his life, he was willing to fi
nd out. He sensed that he was about to become someone he hadn’t been and the idea excited him. With Isabella, he might finally achieve the ideal that he defined for himself: to love a woman and in return, receive all that she was.

  The perennial player in him wanted to pull away, stunned by the intensity of the attraction, but the hopeful romantic was entranced, drawn in and held fast like a magnet to steel.

  As they spun across the floor, Jacques felt the hope inside him come back to life.

  *****

  “You seein' this?” Sabin said to Nicolai as they both stared at Jacques on the dance floor with the lovely stranger in red. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him do anything like that before.”

  “You haven’t because he doesn’t. Who is she?” Nicolai asked.

  “You tell me. She was at your opening.”

  “No clue. How did I miss that?” Nicolai waved his hand down a vertical curve in the air to match Isabella’s.

  “Blinded by love, my friend,” Sabin said without shifting his eyes away from the happy couple.

  "Not anymore," Nicolai muttered more to himself than to Sabin. "If you've caught my cousin's eye, madame en rouge, you've caught mine too."

  Before Sabin could answer, Jerard stormed past them, heading directly toward Jacques, and interrupted the magic moment.

  *****

  “What the hell did you do, Jacques? I told you to stay out of it,” Jerard snarled as he pulled Jacques away from Isabella.

  “I do what I damn well please, Jerard,” Jacques challenged in a low voice, shifting his body in front of Isabella. He had taken what he found in Jerard’s room and Jerard was furious. “I always will. Making a scene won't change that and this is not the time or the place for a showdown.”

  Jerard pointed a hard finger into his chest. “Don’t fuck with me, Jacques. Just don’t.”

  A familiar ache in Jacques’s head, and his heart, crept in as he watched Jerard storm away. Jerard wasn’t only furious. He was high.

  Before Jacques could follow, Nicolai cozied up to him. “To quote someone near and dear to my heart, cousin, talk. Now.”

  Jacques had to let Jerard go. He didn’t want to, but his cousin didn’t know what was going on with Jerard and Julianne would be devastated if she found out. Nicolai already harbored a lot of hate for her best friend and Julianne had been through enough.