She wasn’t really interrupting him. She would never do that. The glass may be frosted, but not enough that she couldn’t see he was finished for the day. He would have ignored her anyway if he wasn’t.
Game on. “Sir, I have a question.”
“Come with me,” Nicolai barked and proceeded to stomp toward the stairs.
Julianne snuck a peek at the perfect backside going up in front of her. Not very ladylike, but Cher Dieu, only divine talent could create that statuesque ass.
Nicolai stopped in front of the walls of books in his office. “You,” he ran his finger along her jawbone, “are going to remove these and dust the shelves underneath.”
The simple touch did things to her. Warm, wonderful, wicked things.
Julianne lowered her head and the vixen rolled her eyes up at him. “Why, sir,” she said with a pout, knowing the reason full well and trying to put that spark in Nicolai's eyes.
“You know why, naughty girl.” He slid the ladder next to her and handed her a handkerchief. A hint of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
Bonne fête. Nicolai definitely wanted to play. The small piece of fabric wouldn’t do much, but of course, cleaning wasn’t the point and the spark in Nicolai's eyes said so.
These little extracurriculars began innocently enough. Two weeks ago, Nicolai caught her staring instead of painting. As their eyes met, he moved toward her with purpose and a hint of menace. She’d always been fascinated by the authority he exuded with nothing more than a glance or a subtle movement, but that day, it was intentional.
When his face was mere inches from hers, he whispered, “If you stared at your canvas as intently as you stare at the air, mademoiselle, perhaps your art would be worthy of you.” The tone of voice alone almost brought her to her knees.
She spent the next hour standing between the glass doors, hands locked behind her back, legs spread, eyes on the floor. The symbolism of her positioning was not lost on her. It wasn’t exactly what she’d seen at the Dungeon, but it was deliciously close. With each passing minute, her awareness of Nicolai increased. Every movement. Every breath. Every look. As if invisible hands roamed her whole body, building a begging ache that sent her spinning.
When Nicolai touched her arms, she tensed and tried to pull away. His palms slid to her shoulders to hold her in place. “You are a delight, Julianne."
She basked in the praise as his fingertips trailed up and down her arms in sensual appreciation, but her frame remained stiff. As much as she wanted his hands on her, she couldn't let it happen.
Then he added, “But our relationship must remain professional. It can never be more than this.”
But she could let it happen like this.
She loosened beneath his hands as they continued their soft, slow progress over her shoulders and down her back. Before he allowed her to move away, he whispered, “You understand.”
She did.
It was an unspoken game. An excuse to interact on the fringe of their teacher/student roles without expressly crossing the line. There would never be anything overtly sexual between them, but the undercurrent when they played out these little lessons…sizzling.
As Julianne stepped onto the ladder, she gave Nicolai a perfect plaintive sigh.
Swat! His hand smacked her bottom.
She swallowed the giggle.
Easing back, Nicolai sank into his Eames lounger and locked his hands behind his head. A front row seat to the coming performance. He never left her alone with her punishments, rather stayed to watch with eyes that held a look more appropriate for a man watching a dancer wrapping herself around a pole.
Crazy sexy. “Sir, there are a lot of shelves,” she said, already feeling the fire.
“One by one.”
Mmm. The voice. If the look got Nicolai anything he wanted, it was nothing compared to the voice. There wasn't a woman alive who could resist that voice. It was like a palpable caress to every secret, feminine place.
Up and down. Up and down.
Bending, reaching, posing for her private audience of one. The fluttery feeling she got as she watched Nicolai out of the corner of her eye was dangerously tempting and unlike her, he wasn’t shy about looking. His wanton crystal stare followed each movement.
Up and down. Up and down.
The sensations heightened with every step, every subtle glance. The feel of cotton against her thighs and breasts, bare feet on wooden rungs and the secret wetness, thick and heated, between her thighs.
Up and down. Up and down.
Her muscles began to ache. Her skin grew moist. Her breath quickened. Not from the work. From the vulnerability of obeying whatever Nicolai commanded and the satisfaction of seeing those ocean eyes drinking it in as trembling hands removed and replaced each and every book.
When Julianne finished, Nicolai stepped toward her and took her by the elbow to help her down. His hand stayed put for a fraction of a second after her feet hit the floor.
It was always like that. A lingering stare. A prolonged touch. A proximity just tight enough to feel the heat and then nothing. Only a hint of something that would never be more.
Safe, distant and oh, so titillating.
Nicolai had his reasons for not crossing the line and she had hers. She could play with fire in the private world of his studio, but in real life, the Colonel made the rules and his punishments were not games.
*****
“Is the rope too tight?”
The little blonde swaying in front of him answered tightly, “No, sir.”
The title made Jerard uncomfortable, but he knew better than to show it. Zachery wouldn’t approve. He'd spent the last couple of weeks training at the Dungeon with Master Zachary. Zachary lectured his trainees for hours. For him, the idea behind an action was as important, if not more important, than the action itself. He could hear Zachery’s words in his head. Power over another, freely given, is a gift and a great responsibility. Never desecrate it with weakness.
From Zachery’s perspective, the Dom/sub relationship was about so much more than sex. Jerard wasn’t sure he agreed, but wouldn’t consider insulting his teacher by not following his protocols. He respected Zachary. Tried to emulate everything about him. His mannerisms, his dress, his speech. Hell, he tried to be him. Apparently, he was succeeding pretty well. The sex was great and Zachery joked about the fact that the subs started asking for him by name.
Tonight’s lesson was about suspension bondage and of course, Zachary didn’t stick to the practical how-to’s. History, symbolism, artistry, spirituality, Zachary’s passion for shibari was infectious. Who knew there could be so much involved in tying another person up? But quite frankly, Jerard was more concerned with safety as he eyed the distance between the dangling woman and the concrete floor. He double-checked her binds while Zachary observed.
“Look at her ankle,” the experienced Dom instructed.
The rope had twisted and was cutting into her skin. Jerard adjusted it quickly, embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed the tangle himself. He gave Zachery a sidelong glance as he moved on to the next couple.
When they finished the session, Zachary pulled him aside and casually asked to join him for a drink. Jerard tensed. The question didn’t feel casual. The session had gone well, but not perfectly.
“Have I disappointed you?” he asked, feeling suddenly unsure.
“No. We’ve been working together for a while. I just want to get to know you a little better.”
The look on Zachery’s face told him that there was more to it than the words let on. This was not going to be an easy conversation.
Jerard carefully untied his companion. Making Zachery wait made him feel ill at ease, but Zachery would have to understand. He took aftercare very seriously and had to be absolutely sure his partner was okay before he let her go. At Zachary’s direction, he’d been pretty hard on her. He was a bit shaken himself.
The Dungeon was empty except for a few staff setting up for the evening wh
en Jerard took a seat next to Zachary in the Back Keep. The place looked so strange with the lights on. Like it didn’t know what to be.
Dolly, the bartender, set down their drinks. A trail of smoke from her cigarette trailed behind her as she sauntered away. In the light, Jerard noticed the circles under her heavily lined eyes, the fact that her hair was a bit too black and her clothes, a bit too tight. He thought to himself that some things were better left in the dark.
Definitely better in the dark.
There was a moment of silence between them, then Zachary said, “Tell me what brought you to this lifestyle, Jerard.”
Merde.
He hadn’t told Zachary about Julianne. Zachary told each new trainee on Beginners Night that they were about to embark on a journey of self-discovery. The idea that Jerard began all this for someone else’s benefit went against Zachary’s whole philosophy.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy what Zachary showed him. Despite a few initial doubts, he felt comfortable in this lifestyle. Much more than he expected. He didn’t quite take it to the same spiritual level that Zachary did, but he was committed. He decided to omit any mention of Julianne and focus on his own experience since coming to the Dungeon.
Their conversation was long and detailed.
When he finished, Zachery questioned him. “The fact that you’re suited to this lifestyle is clear to me, Jerard. I know you fashion yourself a Dominant, but are you sure that is all you are?”
“Yes,” Jerard replied immediately, but the word somehow felt like a lie when he said it to Zachary.
Zachary leaned back in his chair as if to take the full measure of him. “And your own submission holds no fascination for you?” he mused, the nonchalance of his tone contrasting dramatically with the intense expression on his face.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Jerard could see the invitation in Zachery’s eyes and feel the pull of his sex appeal, which was surprisingly tempting, but he could never submit to another person, no less a man. Subs had a luxury that he didn’t. Subs could be vulnerable. Where he came from, survival meant taking care of yourself. Relying on someone else was suicide.
Zachary increased the tension and said what he meant directly, “I want you to try the role of a sub, Jerard.”
Desire stirred deep inside of him, shocking him. The switch in his emotions was like a slap shoving him away from his carefully crafted self-image toward an unexplored side of his sexuality. As his emotions toyed with him, his voice failed.
At first, he thought to deny Zachery. Show some street kid bravado and flip him off. Instead, he laid himself bare. He told Zachery about Julianne and what he wanted for her. He admitted that he often felt vulnerable even though he didn’t feel comfortable showing it. He explained that he fantasized about the things he never had growing up, like someone to take care of him, someone to protect him. But in the end, he couldn’t admit out loud that what Zachery proposed fascinated him.
Zachary didn’t push, only continued in his lecture voice. “Sometimes the line between dominance and submission isn’t fixed. Everyone has their own definition of how these two concepts work with their sexuality. Society forces us into certain roles. We all wear masks. But to find happiness in this life, we have to find the courage to take off the mask and be the person we are meant to be.”
Jerard searched Zachery’s eyes, his brain still scrambled by his reaction to Zachary’s suggestion, and watched as the neutral face of his teacher vanished, replaced by the countenance of a true Master.
“You are not what you think you are, Jerard,” Zachary declared, his voice full of authority now. “You don’t trust me enough to let me take you beyond your limitations. Someday, you will find someone who will. Of that, I am quite sure.”
Zachary stood to leave without any expectation of a reply, but as he came around the table, he leaned over and drawing near to Jerard’s ear, murmured, “Pity, it’s not me. If you change your mind, just say the word and I will take you there.”
Zachery backed away without another glance. Jerard felt himself stiffen as he envisioned submitting to Zachery. He raised his hand to summon Dolly. He needed another drink.
Made that a double.
*****
“Oh, my God. He’s here."
Julianne looked terrified as she rushed into his office like there was an axe murderer behind her.
“Who?” Nicolai asked, placing a marker in the book on his lap and looking over her shoulder.
“My father. He wants to meet you.”
“It would be my pleasure, Julianne. Let me get my jacket.”
She grabbed his arm, the fingers digging into his bicep. “Sir, you have to do something for me.”
Okay, this is weird. Julianne never makes demands.
“I can’t explain, you just have to do what I ask,” she whispered.
The urgency in her voice was startling. He tried to ease her. “Your wish is my command.”
Julianne looked him straight in the eye and commanded, “Be gay!”
*****
“Jesus Christ, Nico. Stop with the brooding. It’s a party.”
Jacques was right. It was a party and would be one hell of a good one. The Order never did anything half-assed. Ordinary was not a concept any member experienced in any area of their lives, including their sex lives, and that suited Nicolai just fine. With them, he was free to enjoy the best that life had to offer and maybe one day, find the kind of love he needed.
Hence tonight’s meet and greet, but he wasn’t interested. He couldn’t shake off what happened earlier in the gallery.
“Guess who I met today?”
Jacques gave him a quick once-over and scowled. “Vlad the Impaler. Would you at least smile,” he murmured as they approached the security desk outside the elevator to the Penthouse suite at the George V.
“Close. The Colonel.”
“Who?’ Jacques handed the man their invitations.
“Colonel Gilles Giroux, Julianne’s father.” As the elevator doors closed them in, Nicolai asked, “Did you ever meet someone you immediately hated, Jacques?”
“The better question is whether I’ve ever met someone I immediately liked.”
“I hated this guy. The vibe coming off him was arrogant and pure alpha. He scares the shit out of Julianne. She’s such a sweet girl.”
“Oh, here we go with the sweet girl. Are you still pretending you’re not hot for your apprentice?”
“I’m not, but I do care,” Nicolai insisted. ”She asked me to pretend to be gay in front of her father. Why would she do that?”
Jacques looked at him as if he was completely insane. “Seriously? I wouldn’t let my daughter within fifty feet of you. Maybe she told him you were gay so he would let her work at your studio.”
“Of course she did, but why would she have to? She’s a graduate student at the École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts. How many graduate students do you know who need daddy’s permission to work in an art studio?”
“Julianne isn’t just any graduate student, Nico. She’s high society. A lot of them are like that. Got to protect the dowry. Plus daddy’s military. You said yourself she was innocent, a gentle spirit. Sheltering a woman like that is a good thing. Protects her from guys like us.” Jacques turned his eyes away and rubbed his palms together. “Speaking of, would you look at all these pretty toys.”
“I guess you’re right, but it’s one thing to feel protected. It’s quite another to feel fear.”
Nicolai let the topic drop as they were surrounded by a circle of coiffed, coutured and definitely-not-innocent women.
*****
Let the battle begin.
Appraising eyes glanced across the desk as his demure apprentice settled herself into a chair. “No is not an option, Julianne. You will be here on Saturday night,” Nicolai said in a voice laced with demand.
Julianne prided herself on her mystery. Of that, he was very sure. After months together, he hardly k
new anything about her. Sure, he could describe her just as anyone who spent time with her could, but there was so much more to this complex, elusive creature than she showed. Only a few days ago, he’d been content to let her remain a mystery. No longer.
Imploring eyes came to his. “Please understand, sir. I don’t want to disappoint you, but I cannot attend.”
The begging words were a lovely distraction, but he wasn’t falling for it. “I’m hosting a private reception, inviting you to meet a group of clients who could launch a brilliant career and you say no. I know you’re ambitious, Julianne. Why would you be so foolish?”
He studied every reaction as he breeched this argument. Julianne was good. The average observer would miss each one of her tells, but he wasn’t the average anything. He saw the pulse pounding at the base of her neck. Heard the subtle deliberateness in her voice as she told her white lies. Sensed the shrouded nervousness.
“It’s complicated.”
“There’s nothing complicated about taking advantage of a golden opportunity.”
Julianne didn’t reply so he invited her to introduce the real topic of this conversation. “Your father is a very interesting man. I made a few inquiries after we met. Why didn’t you tell me he was a diplomat for France?”
“He doesn’t like me to discuss him.”
Her body language was nearly flawless. Only one slip: a delicate hand tucking a lock of hair behind her ear to give her a moment to look away and regroup.
"Would you like me to invite him to the reception?”
“I don’t want him here.”
The quick delivery of those words was the most honest thing she’d said thus far. Daddy isn’t welcome in Julianne’s private world.
“What about your mother?”
Julianne’s eyes misted over. “She died when I was ten.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” And I’m sorry you live with that arrogant prick without another woman to soften his rough edges. “I’m sure she was lovely, like you.”
Masterpiece (The Masters of The Order Book 1) Page 5
