Masterpiece (The Masters of The Order Book 1)

by Verne, Jillian

  She shook her head. “Bien sûr que non.”

  “Of course not, my Beauty,” he repeated, loosening his grip, but didn’t let her go. One hand slid into her hair. The other dropped along the curve of her lower back to press their bodies together. Firm fingers tilted her head to the side, exposing her neck. His lips brushed against the sensitive skin as he spoke, the warm breath sending a fine tremor through her.

  “Yet you lie to me. Why?” Nicolai prodded with a silken voice that seduced as thoroughly as their seductive posture.

  Is this real? Mon Dieu, it is, but it can't be.

  She squeezed her eyes shut trying to resist Nicolai, but she was fighting a losing battle. She didn’t want to resist him. She just wanted him. The real Nicolai felt fantastic. So much better than the fantasy. And his scent was mouthwatering. She swallowed hard, fighting the overwhelming urge to taste those ruby lips.

  The steel vice of his embrace tightened in silent reminder that he was waiting for an answer.

  “There is only you, Nicolai, only you,” she managed with a quivering voice.

  He tugged her hair, arching her neck farther as the hand on her back spread over her bottom. His hips swiveled in a slow, scorching circle to press the hard length of his arousal against her belly. “Any you want to please me?”

  “Oui.”

  Nicolai tilted her head up. His lips hovered over her mouth. “Then tell me. Why do you lie?” He brushed them, so very lightly against hers. Lingering there. Tempting her. Almost a kiss, but not quite.

  Her chin rose to bring her parted lips against his and Nicolai eased back, just enough to deny her. Withholding his kiss until she gave what he wanted. But if she told the truth…

  His hand cupped her bottom, the fingers slipping between her legs to probe closer to her core. His palm thrust up, forcing her onto her toes, and his erection pressed into the mound of her sex.

  The resistance shattered. She felt too much. Wanted too much. Lusted too much to hold back. The truth of her pent up desire slammed to the surface with enough force to shake her whole body. Nicolai had stripped her of her ability to suppress it any longer.

  She wanted his kiss.

  No, she needed his kiss.

  And she would give him anything he wanted to get it.

  Julianne softened against the hard press of Nicolai’s body and let the confession slip out. “I've never seen a naked man. I've never even tasted a man’s lips. I am a naïve child. I lie because I don’t want you to know that I could never please a man like you.”

  Exposing her insecurity caused tears to seep from the corners of her pinched eyelids and stream back over her temples into her hair. She waited for the rejection.

  The rejection that did not come.

  “Julianne, my Beauty.” Nicolai spoke her name like a benediction. “You are so wrong. Your purity is sacred to me. Let me show you how much you please me.”

  The world seemed to come to a complete stop, everything momentarily frozen, only to begin again in slow motion. Nicolai arched over her, bending her body into his with a graceful dip as he took her mouth and drew her into a passionate kiss. His tongue breached her lips, sliding into her with reverent yet possessive sweeps. She moaned into his mouth and he sank deeper, revealing the depth of his emotion and unleashing a passion so long denied.

  There seemed to be no end to the kiss or the wonder that came with it. The rasp of those soft lips. The drag and thrust of that velvet tongue. The suction that pulled untouched places deep within her body. Her smaller female body that Nicolai trapped against his larger one, making her understand the completion that only a man could give.

  Her body burned, the way he’d made her burn that day in the studio. This time, there was no pain. Only searing pleasure. His grip became more savage as skilled hands roamed her curves, claiming, squeezing, molding the skin and muscle as if to….create.

  Nicolai was destroying the girl and creating the woman.

  Breathe into me, Nicolai. Bring me alive. Create me.

  The Colonel’s voice shattered the moment. “Julianne, is that you?” he called into the darkness.

  No, no. Not now. She broke the seal of Nicolai’s lips. “Oui, Père, c’est moi,” she squeaked. “I’ll be right there.”

  Gulping the air, she stared, dumbfounded, at the beautiful man holding her. Embarrassed, she released the tight fists she couldn’t remember twining in his hair and searched those intense blue eyes for validation of what she thought just passed between them.

  I will be your first lover. She could see the invitation dancing in his eyes as they shimmered in the darkness with the promise of more.

  So much more.

  “Give yourself to me, Beauty. I will guide you,” Nicolai whispered in a rough, deep voice as he released her and backed away.

  She lurched forward, her body rebelling violently as the night air replaced his heat. She wanted to throw herself back into his arms. She had no idea that one kiss could lead to such a grinding need for more. That one kiss could show her that every moment with Nicolai led inexorably to this moment. That one kiss could make her understand that this man embodied every dream she’d ever dared to dream for herself.

  If he wanted her, she was his to take.

  For the first time, she told him the truth. “I am yours, Nicolai.”

  The ghost of an affirming nod was his only reply as he disappeared into the darkness.

  10

  Dark Secrets

  The scent of lemon wood polish and harsh morning light flooded the austere office where Darion sat waiting for Sister Genevieve, the head mistress of this highly exclusive lycée for highly privileged ladies. No doubt, its current occupant would be no warmer than the décor.

  Sister Genevieve entered and extended her hand. A simple grey frock covered her from head to foot. She wore no adornment other than a wooden cross that hung heavily around her neck. Despite the modest clothing, she exuded an air of authority, her sharp eyes flickering with intelligence and a healthy dose of skepticism.

  The Sister may put trust in her God, but clearly not in those created in His image.

  “Bonjour, monsieur. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” She smiled, but the smile was not warm.

  One look told Darion direct was the correct path, so he took it. “Bonjour, Sister. I have come to discuss Mademoiselle Julianne Giroux.”

  “I do not discuss alumnae with strangers, monsieur.”

  Of course she didn’t, but with him, she would. “I suspect that in this case you will. Unless…” he eased back in his chair, crossing his legs, and straightened the pleat of his pants, “…you would prefer me to discuss the connection between Mademoiselle Giroux and Xavier Talbot elsewhere.”

  Darion had no idea what the connection was, only that there was one. After a little digging, he’d discovered that Genevieve was Julianne’s godmother, having been the lifelong friend of her mother since their days as roommates at this lycée. Other than the Colonel, hers was the longest history with Julianne and Darion gambled that part of that history would include some knowledge of Xavier Talbot.

  The Sister’s reaction was subtle, but unmistakable, and told him quite clearly, it did.

  “Go on, monsieur.”

  He threw the only bait he had. “Hatred runs deep. Xavier and Gilles are powerful men with powerful passions, are they not, Sister?”

  “Lianne Giroux was an extraordinary woman.”

  Extraordinary and the answer to his real question. And the nature of Xavier's connection to Julianne's mother?

  He took his best guess. “She left Xavier bitter. He remains so to this day.”

  “Lianne never wanted that. She loved Xavier.” The Sister’s eyes filled with sadness. “Until the day she died.”

  “It is difficult to lose a dear friend of so many years. I am sorry for your loss.”

  “Although we chose different paths, we remained close until she died, but Gilles suffers a worse loss than mine. I lost a friend. He
lost true love. From your words, I suppose Xavier did too.”

  Critical eyes considered him for a long moment when she realized what he’d drawn from her. “You know more than you say, monsieur.”

  “I do.”

  “And your motive here?”

  “Is sincere. Julianne is the love of a man very dear to me.”

  “Julianne in love,” she mused as if Julianne being in love was unexpected.

  Nicolai’s description of the Colonel ran through his mind. No. Julianne being in love wasn’t unexpected. Julianne being allowed to be in love was.

  Darion leaned back in his chair as if contemplating someone he knew well. “The Colonel is, shall we say, protective,” he said with a noncommittal shrug.

  The Sister smiled. “That is to be expected.”

  She liked Gilles so Darion nodded as if in approval.

  Genevieve turned her eyes away, choosing her next words with care. “You say Julianne is in love and instead of joy, my heart fills with worry. Is he a good man? Will he do right by her?”

  “He is a good man. I swear to you, Sister. My sole purpose here is to see that no harm comes to Julianne. Not ever.”

  “May I surmise that the Colonel does not know of the affair?”

  “You may.”

  “And Julianne’s man has some connection to Xavier?”

  Darion nodded again.

  She leaned forward, letting her body language emphasize the seriousness of what she was about to tell him, and looked him straight in the eye. “Your concern for Julianne is clear, monsieur, and in that regard, I tell you this. Julianne is very much like her mother and Lianne Giroux suffered too much. More than I will say because some things are better left in the past.” She paused and the pain on her face revealed her deep suffering at the unspoken thoughts.

  When she spoke again, her voice was composed. “Lianne was drawn to a particular type of man and her first lover abused her nature. He was cruel and sadistic. She didn’t have the strength to free herself and he hurt her very badly. It was the Colonel and Xavier who saved her.”

  Darion knew exactly how to read between those lines and let the Sister know it. “A woman like Lianne is a rare and precious gift. She deserved to be cherished and protected.”

  “The Colonel and Xavier were good to her. Knew how to take care of her,” the Sister muttered, obviously struggling with her lack of true understanding for a woman like Lianne. “The three of them shared a happy life before Julianne was born.”

  There was no judgment in her voice, but the implication of her words was clear: Gilles, Lianne and Xavier had been lovers.

  Darion masked his shock. “Love comes in many forms.”

  The clock ticking on the wall sounded like a gong marking the passing seconds as silence filled the room. The Sister had said all she was going to say about the unique love affair between Julianne’s parents and Xavier Talbot.

  “Why did they separate?” he prompted.

  “I never knew. I only know that after Gilles took her away, Lianne was never the same. She loved the Colonel, but leaving Xavier broke her heart.”

  There was the rub: Gilles Giroux separated Xavier Talbot from a woman he loved. From a woman he still loved.

  Men like Xavier Talbot do not forgive.

  And they certainly do not forget.

  *****

  Julianne waited alone. Topless. Hair braided tight. Chest and forehead pressed flush to the wall.

  “I am ready, Père.”

  The sound of approaching footsteps never failed to heighten her senses. She drew a deep breath anticipating the first blow as the terror welled up inside her. Her father would soon be behind her. Wielding leather and words. She would be obedient. She would be disciplined. She would be chaste. He underscored each of his countless lessons with pain, brutally cultivating her submission in a crucible of suffering. But today was not about lessons.

  Today, they met in the foyer.

  Today was about punishment.

  The pain would come harder. Tear into her skin faster. The implement of the abuse, his worst. There was no point to tears. They wouldn’t move him. No point to screams. They would fall on deaf ears. No point to fighting back. His cruelty would only increase.

  Her teeth clamped together at the first hideous snap of the whip across her shoulders.

  “I feel you slipping away, Julianne.”

  It was the truth. The minute Nicolai opened the doors to his studio, it was as if he opened the doors to her mind. He removed the frosted glass through which she viewed her own life and forced her to examine herself with new clarity. That clarity was transforming her.

  “I won’t allow it.”

  Another blow punctuated the words and a sharp cry escaped.

  Be silent. She pictured Nicolai’s face to garner her strength and tried to swallow the fear.

  The strap struck her skin again, the sting growing. She exhaled, preparing herself for the next strike, and the name in her mind escaped on her breath. “Nicolai.”

  The whip came down harder.

  “Nicolai is dead to you, Julianne.”

  No, God. Please no. She strained to release the words through the pain. “He’s a good man, Père. He cares for me.”

  “I decide what’s best for you, Julianne. I protected your mother and I will protect you.”

  The whip came down again.

  Julianne was dizzy, drowning in pain and despair. He couldn’t take Nicolai away from her. She would die without him. As the blows rained down, her knees gave way and she collapsed to the floor. The Colonel didn’t relent. She wasn’t sure of the amount of time that passed, only that he’d never been so brutal. He hit her again and again. His viciousness and ire unmatched.

  She felt herself breaking apart.

  Then, from somewhere deep within, something foreign sprouted. Believe in yourself as much as I believe in you and you can achieve anything. The seeds of confidence Nicolai planted had taken root. For the first time in her life, she found the strength to fight back.

  “I am not a child,” she shouted and tried to stand. “Arrête, Père! Stop.”

  A brutal hand gripped the back of her neck, pushing her back down. “I will not lose you too, Julianne. On your mother’s grave, I swear. You will obey me.”

  The Colonel fell silent and let the whip speak for him. When the final blow came, it flayed the skin. Little drops of blood begin to flow over her ribs, but it wasn’t her body he’d broken.

  It was her spirit.

  “I’m leaving for London later today. That gives you one week to say goodbye to Nicolai Stavros. If he is not gone from your life by the time I return, we will meet here again.” The implement of her destruction landed on the floor beside her bent body. “Next time, I will not be so lenient,” he spat and turned away.

  Alone in that horrible moment of shattered silence, Julianne realized her dreams meant nothing. Each of the Colonel’s lectures replayed in her mind as vividly as the memory of his leather strap on her skin. Disobeying destroyed his hopes and expectations for her. Succumbing to her desires meant forfeiting the future he designed for her. Each lesson, each punishment, all the pain, swept away her dreams like snowflakes in a blizzard gale. A single kiss could not undue years spent with the Colonel and she sobbed as the ice of his discipline overtook Nicolai’s heat with its blistering cold.

  The horror of her epiphany placed her somewhere beyond grief, beyond pain. She went numb. Her wild emotion for Nicolai was forbidden and she was powerless to change that. She would remain forever locked in her father’s private hell, controlled and punished until she obeyed.

  I have no choice. I have to say goodbye.

  11

  Chocolate Cake and the Truth

  “Your guest has arrived, monsieur. Shall I bring her to you?”

  “Please.” Nicolai grinned in anticipation of Julianne.

  The question was the reason he chose to meet her here. This conversation required complete privacy and he coul
d be certain they wouldn’t be interrupted. Not only did this club offer private dining rooms, but the staff was highly discreet.

  The waiter filled Julianne’s wine glass before leaving with a bow.

  Although it was a men’s supper club, the décor was designed to please women. Small candlelit rooms opened to private terraces bathed in filtered light. Old vines, thick and green, graced trellises and flowers scented the air. The tinkling of a fountain in the lower courtyard chimed into each room where fine cuisine was presented on lace-topped tables surrounded by curvy chairs with pastel brocades. The setting was romance-novel perfect.

  The taste of his wine had Nicolai thinking about Julianne’s lips. The small things always seemed to capture his imagination and those perfect lips had tempted him for months. He wouldn’t necessarily say that he enjoyed waiting so long to taste them, but the wait certainly heightened the seduction. Her taste, like the wine, was luxuriant and meant to be savored. If the afternoon went as expected, another taste of those sweet lips was one conversation away.

  Julianne appeared in the doorway, lovely as always, dressed in pale pink silk.

  “Bonjour, Juli…” The words trailed off as concern chilled the greeting. Nicolai jerked out of the chair, scanning her for some sign of harm as he approached. “Julianne, has someone hurt you?” he asked, his hands following his eyes up and down the length of her.

  Julianne shook her head, obviously too upset to speak.

  He drew her into a firm embrace, a bit too roughly, then softened the gesture with a kiss to her hair. “You’ve been crying. Why?”

  Whispered words escaped into his chest. “I came here to say goodbye.”

  That was the last thing he expected to hear. He grabbed her hands and tugged, pulling her down onto his lap. “Come. Sit with me. There will be no goodbyes until we talk.”

  When she tried to pull away, he tightened his grip. His goodbye girl wasn’t going anywhere. He knew better than to expect Julianne to start babbling. She wasn’t talkative in her most unguarded moments, so it fell to him.

  “I'll begin. You and I belong together. We’ve denied ourselves for too long and the time for honesty has come. No more games, Julianne. No more hiding.”