Masterpiece (The Masters of The Order Book 1)

by Verne, Jillian

  After years of doing business in Japan, the significance of Akako’s name was not lost on him. Derived from the Japanese word for red, the name suggested passion and showed respect for Jacques’s preferences. As he bent, he watched Akako’s dainty fingers unfasten his shoes and set his owabaki at his feet. A similarly graceful woman tended to Darion, but Kotani made no introduction.

  They climbed the stairs to the main floor of the house and were escorted into a large room with a tatami floor and paneled walls that were so typical in Japanese architecture. The panels were pushed aside to reveal an almost clichéd view of a pond surrounded by a manicured garden, but his cousin’s erotic sculptures scattered throughout kind of shattered the stereotypic Japanese image.

  The men settled onto cushions around a low square table, each with a kneeling woman at his left. Akako poured warm sake into Jacques’s cup. He savored the glimpse of her white wrist peeking from beneath the silk sleeve of her kimono as she served him. There was something so sexual about the formality and restraint of Japanese culture. It was such a dramatic contrast to how he knew she would behave when they were alone together and began to fantasize about his evening with her.

  As the meal was presented, the conversation turned to business. He and Kotani were hoping to secure private financing for a new venture in the United States during this visit and had to iron out a few last minute details before their meetings the following day.

  Darion had zero interest in the business talk. He wasn’t involved in the deal and sat at the other end of the table with his new friend giggling quietly on his lap. One hand tucked around her body while she fed him. The other was out of sight and, judging from the sounds escaping her, clearly having some naughty fun.

  Jacques vaguely wondered why Darion even accompanied him on this trip. Then again, Darion didn’t need a reason. He owned the jet and didn’t need an invitation to be welcomed virtually anywhere around the globe.

  When they finished with business, Takahiro turned to Darion and said, “I arranged everything as you requested, Darion. The man you seek will visit with you here while Jacques and I are gone.”

  “Who are you meeting, Darion?” Jacques asked.

  “No one you know,” Darion said dismissively. “I’m just running a little errand for Nicolai.”

  Six thousand miles for a little errand. Yeah, right.

  Jacques was curious, but remained silent. He may be close to Darion, but it was still Darion. And you don’t second-guess Darion LeClair. You just don’t. He turned his attention back to Akako who was staring into her sake and blushing so deeply that he could see the rose on her cheeks through her white make-up.

  “I see you know my cousin, Akako.”

  She nodded. “Nicolai-san is home?”

  Jacques traced his fingers over the delicate bones of her wrist, pushing aside the sleeve to expose more of her arm, and thought of Julianne.

  “Yes, Akako. I believe he is finally home.”

  *****

  Nicolai watched Julianne lock the door to her former home.

  He could almost read her thoughts in the way she looked at him. She was symbolically closing the door on her old life and looking to him for a new one. What she didn’t realize was that he was doing exactly the same thing.

  You can do this, Nicolai. One step at a time.

  As they walked along the sidewalk, Julianne didn’t speak. After a few blocks of heavy silence, he pulled her into the courtyard of St. Bernadette’s Church.

  “Talk to me, Julianne. I know something’s bothering you.”

  She didn’t look at him while she said, “The women from your past. Some of them were very pretty.”

  Well that wasn’t what he’d expected to hear, but he could work with it. He put his hand to her chin to raise her gaze. “And I want you. Only you, my Beauty.”

  She looked into his face and sighed, “Why?”

  Because no one has ever looked at me the way you do. No one has ever inspired me believe that I could be more than I've been. “You make me believe, Julianne. I don’t need a reason. It just is.”

  The emotional bit may stump him, but the physical? This was the part he was good at and he knew it. His palms tilted that magnificent face to his and he kissed her. Deep and dirty. Right there against the stone wall of the church, leaving no doubt for Julianne or the saint whose building she was plastered against about how he felt.

  Breathing hard, he smiled against her lips. “You’re very sexy when you’re jealous, but there’s no need. No woman compares to you, my muse.”

  “Who says I’m jealous?” she answered with a little shrug and started fumbling in her purse. When she looked up, she giggled.

  “What?”

  A fingertip ran over his lips. She pulled it away to reveal the pink sparkle smeared across it.

  “You look pretty wearing my lipstick,” she said, twirling a little black tube between her fingers. “Pink Passion suits you.”

  “You think so?” He puckered his lips and blew a kiss into the air. “Who says I’m not in touch with my feminine side?” Then dropped his voice to a sexy tease. “Although, I can think of few distinctly masculine places where I would prefer those lips to smear Pink Passion.” He winked at her as he dragged his hand over his mouth. “I’ll show you later.”

  The blush on Julianne’s face was pinker than Pink Passion and that made him anxious to get her home and naked, but there were things that needed to be said first.

  They walked to a quiet, out of the way bistro. Julianne fidgeted through the entire meal. He enjoyed her angst as he ignored the not-so-subtle rush and almost laughed out loud at her reaction when he ordered a soufflé after the waiter explained that “the specialty of the house requires half an hour to be properly prepared.”

  As the waiter stepped away, he tsked, “Patience, my little hellion,” letting her know they were both thinking about later, but pleasure would be hers at his leisure. The lovely shift of her hips said she understood his meaning. Perfectly.

  He raised his glass, “A toast,” and tipped it to hers. “To today, the day we truly begin.”

  Bringing her glass to her lips, she smiled demurely over the rim, but there was no misreading her eyes. They screamed, I want you NOW.

  He leaned forward as if he was going to kiss her and whispered, “Be careful, my daring girl. Pushy women get spanked.”

  She bit her lip on a grin, making no attempt to hide her kinky thoughts, and he couldn’t resist a tiny bit more fun.

  “Mon Dieu. Such a dirty mind.” He rolled his eyes until they landed on hers with carnal focus. “What will you think about once I have touched, tasted, teased and tormented every inch of that sinful body?”

  With a soft whimper, her hips shifted again.

  The vision of his Beauty on the edge of need was priceless and he hadn’t even touched her. Her reaction to the casual pace he’d been keeping, hilarious, but they had to get serious for a minute.

  “While we wait, I want to talk about a few rules for our relationship and discuss limits.”

  This time, Julianne straightened in her chair. His Beauty didn’t say very much, but her eyes, expressions and body language communicated plenty. He knew he had her full attention.

  “What I want from you requires a delicate balance. Submission, yet strength. Obedience, yet thoughtfulness. I need control, but I still want to love a strong, self-determined woman. I have no interest in ordering around a child or bullying a wimp.”

  He paused to sip his wine and give her a chance to respond. She remained silent, eyes locked on his, listening and waiting to learn more. He continued.

  “The key to my heart is trust. Surrendering control demonstrates trust. I have a creative spirit and a dominant nature. How you will submit to me, I leave to your imagination for the moment. I will tell you that as your lover I will challenge you and hopefully, satisfy you beyond your wildest imagination. I aim to please, Beauty, in every conceivable way.”

  She smiled at that
and he paused again before going on.

  “I want to make you smile, but I admit that a few tears at the opportune moment would also turn me on. Because of that, I have to be able to rely on your honesty. If I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, I can’t take care of you properly.”

  She actually nodded at that statement. He was tempted to ask her to elaborate, but until she experienced the things he was talking about, she would only be guessing about how she would feel.

  “One thing will always be constant. I never want to push you beyond your limits. To allow me to do so would be an egregious betrayal of my trust. When you reach a limit, you must tell me. In some cases, we will work past it. In others, we will not.”

  Her brow furrowed. He stopped talking to allow her time to express her thought and sipped his wine.

  “I don’t think I have any limits,” she said.

  That answer was expected and required an immediate response.

  “Yes, you do. Everyone does. But you’ve been taught that you’re not supposed to. That is the difference between abuse and consensual power exchange.”

  “Oh.”

  The waiter interrupted their conversation with the soufflé. Nicolai was content with the timing. Julianne heard the words he wanted her to hear before he took her home. He knew he would be repeating them many times and layering on experience to give them meaning.

  He also understood his quiet muse. When, “Oh,” was the only response to a significant topic like limits in a Dom/sub relationship, she wasn’t going to say anything more today.

  He spooned the first bite into her mouth.

  “I won’t ask you to describe what you want or require of me right now because I suspect you don’t actually know. But as we move forward together, I expect you to tell me. It doesn’t have to be a conversation, but you have to express yourself to me somehow. Do I have your promise that you will, Beauty?

  “Yes, Nicolai. I promise.”

  As the second spoonful slipped past her lips, he was already aware of the restraint pressing against his soul. He’d always been an extreme lover. The dark sexuality that drove him had always been a part of his character. It was one of the things that made him such a sensual artist. He understood the passions that could drive a person to their ruin.

  Or, if I have the strength, to her salvation.

  *****

  By the time Brent parked the car at the curb, Julianne was one gigantic knot of impatient craving.

  Suppose I should have guessed this one, she thought as she looked at the piece of architectural majesty rising in front of her. Not surprising for a man of stature and means, Nicolai lived on the left bank of Paris in the Saint-Germain-des-Prés quarter. She grew up in privilege, but not compared to this.

  The doorman was very formal and greeted her by name, “Bienvenue, Mademoiselle Giroux.”

  “Bonsoir, monsieur,” she replied, giving her best coy smile. And don't think I missed that appreciative glance at my derriere as you held the door open. She swayed her hips for him as he escorted her into the elevator.

  Nicolai swatted her bottom as soon as the doors closed behind them. “Naughty girl.”

  She bit her lip with a shrug, "What can I say? You make me feel sexy."

  The look she got in reply said, you just wait.

  Penthouse, of course.

  When the doors opened again, he swept her into his arms and carried her over the threshold. “Welcome home, my Beauty.”

  “I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

  He seemed surprised. “I suppose I am.” Cocking his head to the side to flash a smile that suggested things she’d only fantasized about, her wolf added, “Among other things.”

  Julianne’s heart hammered as her eyes darted around. Each detail was more fabulous than the last. Late afternoon sunlight poured through a large window high above and streamed over a shiny black and white marble floor. In the center sat a nearly life sized bronze of a kneeling man. His arms held a gigantic oriental vase filled with an extravagant spray of fresh flowers. Twin antique settees sat across from each other beneath huge contemporary paintings Not Nicolai’s work. Curved archways flanked a spindled staircase and offered a glimpse of the rooms beyond. The magnificent colors of the foyer were carried throughout the first floor. The unique blend of varying styles, periods and textures was masterful. Only an artist with a trained eye like Nicolai’s could make the combination work and oh, did it ever work. With this foyer as the introduction, she knew the rest of the apartment would to be spectacular.

  Nicolai ignored the rest of the first floor as if it didn’t exist and headed straight for the staircase. She gasped when she looked up. Prominently displayed at the top of the stairs was her painting of Le Bois.

  My work isn’t worthy of its prime placement in this grand home. She tried to hide the insecurity behind a flip remark. “I wondered what happened to that. I thought you might have thrown it away.”

  “Nonsense. This painting is a masterpiece. There’s such a fascinating blend of emotions in it. I thought you might enjoy having this cherished memory in your new home.”

  “How can you see that?” She’d never told Nicolai anything about her mother and Le Bois. Am I that transparent?

  He smiled patiently, but didn’t answer the question.

  Apparently, I am.

  “Perhaps one day you will explain its significance to me, but that’s a conversation for another time. Today, I have a special surprise,” he said, blue eyes flashing with suggestion.

  Julianne wasn’t sure how to feel about the last comment. Nicolai’s surprises tended to be very challenging.

  He carried her up the steps as if she was weightless in his arms. They walked along a wide hallway until he stopped in front of a closed door and set her onto her feet. Then covered her eyes before opening the door.

  “For you."

  Removing his hand, he revealed a feminine boudoir fit for a princess. Decorated in shades of cream and grey, a tufted velvet ottoman sat in front of a platform surrounded by a gilt three-way mirror. An oversized vanity offered every conceivable accoutrement to pamper a woman. A few dresses hung on built in racks large enough to accommodate many, many more. But the thing that caught her attention filled the back wall.

  Shoes!

  She’d confessed her shoe obsession to Nicolai and there were shelves filled with every variety of spectacular, decadent, marvelous shoes. Black, silver, blue, grey, red, white, gold. There must have been thirty pair.

  “I don’t understand,” she breathed, not taking her eyes off all those tempting babies.

  “I wanted to give you a gift.” His eyes lit with mirth, “I guess I got carried away. Do you like it?”

  Like it? I love it. She spun into his arms and hugged tight.

  “There’s more,” he said, prying her arms from his neck.

  What more can this man possibly give?

  Nicolai led her through the boudoir and opened a door on the far side, chuckling at her whimper as he dragged her away from her new babies.

  “You can play with them later.”

  “Promise?” She gave him a little pout.

  “Look at me that way again and I’ll buy the whole damn factory for you.” Taking her hand, he led her into the bathroom.

  This was no ordinary room. Finished in hues of brown, it was divided into three sections. An octagonal antechamber with antiqued mirrored walls housed a hammered copper basin with a very low rim. Two wave-like sculptures about six inches long and two feet high stood on either side. A faucet rested atop a similarly graceful holder at the back. Copper veining in the mirrors and the golden glow from overhead lighting softened the hard surfaces and made the space appear warm and inviting. Beyond the place where they stood, she could see two other sections that held the more practical elements of a typical bathroom.

  “I designed this specially for you.” Nicolai pointed to the basin and leaned in to purr in her ear, “This is where I will ba
the you.”

  “Bathe me?” The idea of those talented hands tending to her body in such a basic way was beyond appealing, but despite how many times she imagined giving herself to Nicolai, something about seeing that basin dredged every insecurity to the surface. “I am capable of bathing myself,” she offered softly, eyes glued to the floor.

  “You’re mine to care for, Beauty, and I intend on caring for you very well,” he said, dismissing her reply as if she had suggested something ludicrous.

  And how else will you care for me, Nicolai?

  They were playing in his world now. Nicolai knew the game. Knew the rules. Knew how to win. What did she know?

  Nothing. Naïve virgin nothing. How am I ever going to satisfy this man?

  “Stop, Beauty.” He lifted her chin and looked deeply into her eyes as if he was reading her mind. “Just stop. You have no reason to be insecure with me.”

  Oh, yes. Reading me as easily as he can read a simple child’s book.

  “It’s okay to be nervous, you know. I am.”

  “Impossible,” she challenged, perturbed by the thought that Nicolai was patronizing her.

  “Very possible,” he pushed back. “Do you think I lie when I say you are my muse?” His eyes burned with sincerity. “You mean everything to me. I finally have the chance to make love to you, the chance to begin building a home with someone as precious as you. Would you care to explain how a person in that situation could not be nervous?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. Circling behind her, he put his lips to the side of her neck and whispered over her shoulder, “Let me take care of you. Please.”

  Please. She’d never heard that humble entreaty cross his lips. Nicolai wasn’t patronizing her. And he wasn’t lying. Mon Dieu. The room suddenly became very warm.

  Seductive hands began to stroke up and down her arms as soft, wet kisses played along the sensitive skin at her nape. Nicolai moved very slowly, as if to gently entice her, but those little kisses kindled a crackling arousal, making her flush and grow hotter.

  “Is it warm in here?”