Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two

by Verne, Jillian

  The urge to grab her was monstrous, but he held back. “I’m listening.”

  “For me, the worst part about what happened was the wall you put between us. Forcing me to call you ‘sir.’ I know what that meant. I was just like everyone else in the world to you. You denied the intimacy. It made me feel dirty. I can’t ever feel that again. If I trust you enough to go down this road, you can’t do that to me again.”

  “Never, Isabella. I swear it. That will never happen again.”

  She ignored his platitude and kept on. “Sabin told me that it would take time to shut out all the voices in my head that hold me back.”

  “Um, I believe I told you the same thing.”

  “You did, but somehow I understood the message better coming from a guy who doesn’t want to sleep with me.”

  “Don’t be so dang sure about that, darlin’,” he said, mimicking Sabin’s drawl.

  She rolled her eyes again, but this time, there was warmth in them. The ice was melting. “Anyway, if I’m going to redefine what’s right for me and only me, I have to trust you again, Jacques. I wish I could say that I do, but the thing I’m struggling with is forgetting that horrible feeling when you shut me out. I will try to be strong for you, but I need your promise that you won’t shut me out again. The intimacy between us is the only that makes what we share seem right.”

  “I promise.” He wanted to say more, but words didn’t build trust. Experience did. He picked up a cookie and wiggled it in front of her. “How about we take it one cookie at a time, Isabella?”

  She giggled as she took the cookie from him, the tension in her deflating. Then those chocolate eyes filled with a challenge of their own. She took a small bite and held the uneaten piece out to him. He took a bigger bite, sneaking a taste of her fingers as he did.

  “No fair.”

  She shoved what remained into her mouth and he picked up another. She’d lost weight since he’d seen her last, but he would fix that.

  They slipped into a comfortable silence as he began to feed her little bits at a time. He couldn’t get over how magnificent it felt to have her accept his care again even if it came with the unspoken condition that he accept hers. He offered her a sip of milk and she drank it. Another piece of cookie and she ate it. It wasn’t a joyful moment. How could it be with Jerard suffering downstairs, but it was quiet and comfortable. With each sip, the nightmare of Monaco slipped farther into the past. With each nibble, the silent bond between them flickered back to life. When the cookies were gone, he opened his arms in invitation and she curled right onto his lap.

  As she wiped the crumbs from her lips, she looked up. “Is that what I think it is?”

  He glanced up at the gigantic pink monstrosity hanging over his head. The painting was abstract, but anyone who knew anything about his cousin knew of Nicolai’s preference for that particular part of the female anatomy.

  “Yours is prettier.” He winked at her and she smacked his shoulder. “I swear it to the moon, Isabella. I will never shut you out again. Come closer.”

  His hand guided her head onto his shoulder and she melted into him, offering no resistance. When he began to swirl little circles over her temple, the cuddler in her mewled with pleasure, “That feels so good,” and snuggled in tighter. Heavy arms wrapped around him. Heavy breath fell against his neck. He could feel the weight of her fatigue, knowing she’d gladly sacrificed her own well-being for Jerard’s.

  He closed his eyes and focused the rightness of her in his arms. The delicate frame. The lush curves. The generous heart. A compassionate creature like Isabella deserved so much more that she took from life. She was sacred to him and he had so much more to offer than cookies and magic fingers. He was ready to share the only other thing in his life that he held sacred.

  “I want a future with you, Isabella, but there are things you don’t know about me. Before you decide whether we can try again, I have to tell you about them. Some I can change; others I cannot. All I can do is be honest and hope you can accept what I’m about to say.”

  “Okay, but you’re scaring me a little right now, Jacques.” Tension sang through her body as she shifted on his lap.

  “You are a very special kind of woman, the kind that gives trust to men like me. Power over another, even when it’s consensual, is a form of violence. One that men can gain an unholy taste for if they’re allowed to. People who enjoy our lifestyle often come together to keep things in balance.” He paused, unsure whether he sounded insane trying to explain his kinky band of brothers and how they lived.

  She looked up into his face with an encouraging expression. “Are you trying to tell me about the Order?”

  “How do you know about the Order?” Although he tried to control it, the shock in his voice echoed through the empty gallery.

  “Andre told me and don’t be mad. I kind of figured it out on my own anyway. When I met Sabin and Nicolai, it was kind of hard to miss the common ground between you. Especially for a special kind of girl like me.” She poked him in the ribs. “I could tell there was some kind of bond between you and it wasn’t just about partying like kinky rock stars.”

  He felt his body tense and she continued. Quickly. “Sorry. Andre’s words, not mine. You kept saying you had to keep what was happening with Jerard from them. They would intervene. They might not understand. They might reject him. So I’m guessing that Jerard is joining this Order too, but he’s not all the way in yet.”

  “You’re a smart lady, Isabella Rey, and I love that about you. You’re right. Nico and Sabin, they are more than my friends. They’re my brothers by oath. We all belong to the Order and if you become my lover again, I want you to join too.”

  “So what is it, Jacques, some kind of sex club?”

  “No lies, Isabella. We’re a kinky bunch. Sex is a huge part of what brings us together, but it’s more than that. Think of it as a fraternity, a secret society with its own rules and traditions if you will. We like to play, but we also work together to advance business and political agendas.”

  “Why keep it secret?”

  “For historical reasons mostly. Our kind of lifestyle can lead to ugly, expensive things when relationships go bad. That’s why we keep a tight lid on things. Serious lovers commit for a year before deciding whether to join themselves, but stay or go, everyone pledges silence for life.”

  “What if a couple breaks up?”

  “The Order takes care of its own. That works out in a lot of different ways.”

  He thought about Lily and how the Order sent her to live under Sabin’s protection. Consensual power exchange, yes; abuse, definitely no.

  And doesn’t that just make me the hypocrite? He abused Isabella. She said it herself. So how am I any different from any other abuser?

  Her voice interrupted his guilt trip. “It sounds like you shouldn’t even be telling me this.”

  “If I wasn’t asking you to stay forever, Isabella, I shouldn’t be.”

  She turned to him, a brilliant smile lighting her face. “You’re asking me to stay forever, Jacques?”

  “No, Paradis. I am begging.”

  She bit her bottom lip. He could see her willingness, possibly even eagerness, to put her faith in him once again. So naturally trusting even after what he’d done, but he didn’t deserve that.

  “I haven’t earned your trust, Isabella. Don't be too quick to give it.”

  She waved a hand in front of her face. “I said I need time, Jacques, but I know you’re a good man.”

  He didn’t bother arguing with her. He would just lay his cards on the table and hope she still wanted to stay. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

  He felt her tense in his arms. “Everyone has secrets. Things they want to hide from the world. Sometimes it’s better to leave those things in the past and just live for today,” she offered weakly.

  “We can’t build a future based on secrets and lies, Isabella. If we don’t share everything, we will fail. If I’ve learned anything i
n the past three months, that’s it. Whether you tell your partner or not, your experiences affect your relationships. I thought I could be different with you. I wanted to be, but I failed and you suffered because I did. When you didn’t behave like I wanted, I reverted to the man I no longer want to be, but that man will always be a part of who I am.”

  His compassionate Isabella didn’t argue, only gave him a supportive hug and snuggled in to listen. “Tell me about him, Jacques.”

  He continued rubbing her neck as if to comfort her, but more to comfort himself. “Jerard and I had an argument in Monaco. He warned me that I would hurt you, told me to send you home, but I didn’t. Too damn arrogant to listen. He held a mirror to me and the reflection he made me see wasn’t pretty. I prided myself on being a Master of hard satisfaction, distant, threatening and demanding. I took my lovers to dangerous extremes without intimacy or respect, but that wasn’t my real game.”

  He heaved a heavy breath and laid himself bare. “The real game was their addiction. I made myself addicting to them and the moment I knew I’d achieved my hideous goal, I threw them away. That’s what I was after Isabella, the reaction when I shut them out. The sadist in me enjoyed their pain, how they cried and begged me to let them back into my life. I laughed at it, Isabella. I laughed at them.”

  He paused, waiting for her to scream or slap him, but Isabella didn’t react, only squeezed a little tighter.

  “I don’t want to be that person anymore, Isabella. I want to be a different man. I want to find out who I can be with you in my life. I cannot claim to be a good man, but I promise I will try to be a good lover to you.”

  She leaned back and put her hands on his face to make him look into her eyes. “You are a good man, Jacques. Thank you for being honest with me.”

  He could hardly believe what was happening. No rejection. No judgment. The depth of her compassion bowled him over and steeled his resolve to do right by her. “You may believe that, but I don’t and I won’t risk you again. That’s why I am asking you to join the Order. The Order will protect you.”

  “I think my brothers might already have that job,” she said sarcastically.

  “No, Isabella. What I’m talking about is much more serious than that. The Order lives by its own standards of chivalry. We pledge our loyalty to each other and adhere to an honor code. If I break the code, the Order intervenes. It’s not a little thing. We’re talking about very powerful men. You seem to trust Sabin, perhaps we should ask him.”

  “Ask him what?”

  “To protect you.”

  “From what?”

  “From me. If I ever hurt you in any way, he would have the power to punish me. Sabin could become your confidant. I play the same role for Nico and Julianne. It’s another way we keep things balanced.”

  She stayed silent for a few moments contemplating what he’d just told her, then said, “That’s a lot to take in, Jacques, and I appreciate your honesty, but it doesn’t change how I feel. I have faith in you. If you say you will be different with me, you will. I still want to stay. Maybe together, we can both become the people we are meant to be. If you feel you need a watchdog, I will respect that, but I would rather ask Jerard. Will he still be able to join the Order after this?”

  Her faith in him nearly made him break down, but he continued in a composed voice. “Honestly, I don’t know. It will be Darion’s decision. He’s the highest Master of the Order. He may have a soft spot for Jerard because of his talent, but Darion isn’t soft by any definition. Addictions in our lifestyle can be dangerous. I will plead Jerard’s case once he beats this…”

  She cut him off. “Do you think Jerard will beat this, Jacques?”

  “I know he will.”

  For some reason, another furrow crossed brow. Something serious was weighing on her mind. “Talk to me, Isabella.”

  “Um, I’m not sure how to bring this up, but there’s something else. Something Jerard said. He was babbling a little, but I pieced together a few things.”

  “You seem to have a knack for that,” he quipped trying to lighten her mood.

  Her eyes fell to the fingers fiddling with the top button of his shirt. “So you and Jerard, you, um, share.”

  Sweet Isabella was still embarrassed talking about sex.

  He put a finger under her chin to raise her gaze. “If you mean do we enjoy ménage, then yes. We’ve been together for about a year now. When Nico fell for Julianne, things changed for both of us. Julianne is Jerard’s best friend, but let’s just say that Nico isn’t a fan of the relationship. As for me, well, I lost my partner. Jerard took his place.”

  “How does that work exactly? Does Jerard submit to you too?” She shrugged with a little smile. “Sorry, but I can’t imagine it the other way around.”

  “Jerard allows me to top him in our scenes. Needs it, in fact. He’s a switch.”

  “A switch?”

  “Someone who can play top and bottom.”

  Her eyes drifted away as she spoke. “When I asked him whether he was like you, he said, ‘yes and no.’ Jerard is like you, but he’s like me too. Is that right, Jacques?”

  He leaned into her sight line. “Yes. Is this conversation freaking you out?”

  “Turning me on is more like it. Keep talking.”

  He pushed aside the vision of damp, tangled sheets around panting, entwined bodies and tried to explain. “We dreamed of sharing a life with a woman. Both of us wanted a more permanent thing and we thought we might find it together.”

  She interrupted him. “That’s the dream? You, Jerard and a woman with red hair.”

  “I know it sounds weird, but yeah.”

  “What’s the significance of color? I mean, I’m sure any woman would gladly dye her hair for you.” There was no judgment in her eyes, only curiosity.

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Jerard said that when he saw my hair, he knew that you and I were meant to be together. Why? Because I have red hair.”

  A pang of embarrassment hit him at the thought that something as inconsequential as hair color held such significance to him, but it did. Isabella wasn’t superstitious like he was, but if he wanted her trust, he had to give his so he carried on with his story. “It’s not only about the color. When I was a teenager, a gypsy told my fortune. She said I would find my destiny in a city of light. I would know her by the fire in her soul and her red hair. You live in Paris. You have fire in your soul. You have red hair. You, Isabella Rey, are my destiny.”

  He struggled to read her reaction. There was a faint smile on her lips, but her eyes filled with tears. Then she spoke the words that would live in his heart for eternity.

  “I think you might be my destiny too, Jacques.”

  There it was: a destiny foretold and realized in that breathtaking feminine gaze. He wanted to lean in and kiss her. Hell, he wanted to roll on top of her and make love to her right on the floor of Nicolai’s gallery, but this wasn’t the time and he didn’t have to hear his compassionate angel’s next words to know it.

  “Is Jerard’s addiction the reason he said your dream is dead?”

  “Partially. We’ve been drifting apart for a long time, but it’s more than that. Everything feels different since I met you. I’m not sure what I want anymore, but I know one thing for sure. The idea of sharing your love with another man, well, I can’t. I want your heart, Isabella, all of it. All to myself.”

  “I don’t want to live a ménage either, Jacques,” she said, her relief palpable. Then a little gleam flashed in her eyes. “Although, it might be fun to try it for a while.”

  “The idea of a ménage appeals to you?” Just asking the question turned him on. He didn’t want to share her love, but that sinful body, fuck yeah. “Speak slowly, small words so I can understand. All the blood has left my brain and gone south.”

  She ran her hands over his chest, playing with his simmering arousal, and gave him a deceptively shy nod. “Only if you want that too, Jacques.”


  Did Isabella have any idea what the adventurousness combined with her sweetly submissive vibe did to him? How it made him want to tear down those black cargo pants, sink into her feminine paradise and not come out for a year?

  He slipped a more suggestive tone into his voice. “Oh, I want, Isabella. Let’s work on building your trust in me again and then I’ll show you exactly what I want.”

  His coquette responded with a noncommittal shrug of her beautiful shoulders. “Well, I suppose that now you’ve invited me into the Order and trusted me with your life, I’ll have to stick around. I only have one more question.”

  “Mmm?”

  “Can I still get Sabin to kick your ass?”

  He grabbed her and squeezed with all his might. “Dang straight, darlin’,” he drawled in her ear.

  “Jacques, I can’t breathe.”

  He loosened his arms, then laid his lips on hers and sucked the air right back out of her lungs.

  17

  The Real Deal

  Life changes with the wind.

  Three weeks. Three glorious weeks since Jacques answered her call and life had completely changed.

  Jerard checked himself into one of the best drug addiction clinics in Europe for a three month bout of therapy. Gracias a Dios.

  Craig got a job in Nicolai Stavros’s gallery and with Nicolai’s help, hosted his very first opening. Très bien fait.

  A ridiculously handsome British aristocrat attended, went over the moon for Craig’s art and then for him. Absolutely smashing.

  Teo’s tour schedule managed to distract him from beating the crap out of Jacques and her boys had reached a détente of sorts. ¡Qué milagro!

  Sabin was in Paris bubbling with excitement over some business venture in the United States that occupied Jacques’s days and most of his nights. Yee haw.

  Sir James decided that her plans for the Meszaros Foundation merited another donation and went about hitting up his blue-blooded friends for more money. Brilliant.

  She quit her job at the Institut to help Jacques spend all that cash. Cha-ching.

  Oh, and the best of all? She moved in with Jacques and they made up over flan.