This was almost too much to take in. Nicolai blamed himself? Darion blamed himself? Hatred surged through her veins. What happened wasn’t Darion’s fault any more than it was Nicolai’s. It was Xavier’s fault. All of it. That monster was not her father. Biologically perhaps, but in every way that counted, Gilles was her father. That would never change. And Gilles Giroux’s daughter would never allow Xavier Talbot to win.
“Look at me. Please.” Her crackling rasp was firm.
Darion raised his eyes.
“Apology accepted."
His face softened.
The determination that she couldn’t put into her damaged voice, she poured into her eyes. “You’re going to help me fix this, Darion. I don’t know what I’m going to ask you to do yet, but you’re going to help me.”
There was a layered pause, a semblance of a smile, then the Darion she trusted rematerialized before her eyes. “Yes, Julianne. Yes, I am.”
*****
“Do you need help, friend?”
Nicolai looked up and tried to focus. A portly old man peered up at him, his hands folded atop an apron that stretched tight across his round belly. Despite the kindly eyes, his unspoken message was clear.
“No.” Nicolai swayed as he eased away from the door frame.
“You sure? I can call a taxi.”
“Thanks, no.” The words slurred.
It was almost dawn. Nicolai had wandered the Paris streets all night. The rain began again, but he wasn’t conscious of the water streaming over his face, seeping into the wool of his ruined suit, as he shuffled away from the baker’s shop.
He raised the bottle in his hand to his lips unsure what he was drinking. Make that drank. He dropped it into a trashcan with a curse. His phone rang and he tossed the damn thing in too. Anything to stop the incessant harassment.
Jacques couldn’t help him now. No one could. He’d given away his reason for living. Returned the tiny key to the chain he’d put around Julianne’s waist, setting her free and letting her go with two pathetic, useless words, “I’m sorry.”
His body ached as he carried his heavy regret. He lied when he said there he had no regret. He had nothing but regret and it coiled around his soul, making his bones brittle and his muscles tight.
Part of him wanted to go back. Fall on his knees and beg Julianne to forgive him. But he was lost. Without Julianne, he was just lost. So he kept walking.
Going nowhere.
*****
Jerard knew this day would come and overjoyed wasn't the emotion.
“Thomas found him.” Julianne called out, skipping across the floor as she hung up the phone.
She’d been living with him since leaving Jeannette’s apartment. Jacques and Darion had been searching for Nicolai - that is, when they weren’t taking turns fussing over Julianne like she was a china doll - and hooray, they found the worthless asshole.
He rushed toward her. “Don’t go, Julí.” He grabbed her arms. “Please.”
“I have to go, Jerard.”
Before she could explain herself again, the doorbell rang. She twisted free of his grip, raced to the door and ripped it open.
Darion stood on the threshold. “I see you’ve spoken to Thomas."
“Are you ready?” she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Don’t let her do this,” Jerard said as Darion entered the room.
“As if I could stop her.” Darion smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t worry, Jerard. I won’t leave her alone.”
“Yes, you will.” Julianne looked up at Darion, literally, and pointed a finger into his chest. “I don’t want you scaring him away. You’ll do what I asked and then leave.” Her violet eyes flashed with determination. “Do you hear me, Darion? I’ve planned every detail and you playing the overprotective bodyguard is not part of the plan. Nicolai may be mad at you for this little breach of protocol, but you two will have to work that out another time. This time is mine.”
Her eyes shifted away from Darion, to Jerard, and back again. “I understand you care about me, both of you. But, if you really care, you will let me do this my way.”
Darion didn’t say a word.
Smart man. Guess I'm not so smart. “I know, you’re not a little girl,” Jerard offered in vain as he attempted the impossible. Trying to dissuade Julianne when she wanted something was like trying to make an elephant fly. Watching his petite friend dressing down a heavyweight like Darion LeClair only proved that. He was sure that even if Darion “left” Julianne, he wouldn’t be far away, but he was still worried. “It’s just that I can’t stand the idea of Nicolai hurting you again.”
The pretty pit bull turned on him. “I am not having this argument with you again, Jerard. Nicolai did not hurt me. Xavier Talbot did.”
“You’ve been through so much, Julí. I don’t want anything else to...”
She raised a hand to cut him off. “That’s exactly the point, Jerard. I’ve been through hell. What do you expect me to do now? Fall to pieces. I’m a lot stronger than you think.”
Yeah, I'm not just worried. I'm a worried jerk.
Julianne continued to rage against him. “I learned something that I’m sad to admit, I never would have without living that horrible experience. I am a lot stronger than I ever believed I was. Nicolai introduced me to myself, helped me fight my demons. He made me feel indomitable and I am.”
“But he isn’t here for you now.”
“No. He isn’t.” Julianne bowed her head and her eyes filled with sadness. “I’m not the only one Xavier hurt, Jerard. I’m not the only one with demons.” She looked at Darion. “A very wise person taught me that when you love someone, you’re never alone. You can always rely on your lover’s strength.”
Jerard opened his mouth to throw another barb Nicolai’s way, something obvious like “So where is Mr. Reliable now?” and those violet eyes flashed with warning. He closed it with a nonchalant shrug.
Julí knows what I think. No need to say it again.
Her chin thrust high in the air as she declared, “My point is this. Real relationships are not one-way streets. Nicolai offered his strength when I wasn’t strong enough on my own and now, I’m offering mine. When he isn’t strong enough, I will be.”
“Or you could just rip his head off.”
“Believe me, Jerard. I thought about it, but the truth is I forgave Nicolai the moment he laid that envelope on the steps at Xavier’s feet and asked for my forgiveness. As for the rest, Nicolai showed me the healing power of writing. I’ve spent the last few days filling a whole journal. I could probably fill ten more. It’s going to take months, maybe years, to work through everything that happened. Maybe I never will.
“At this point, I have a single truth. This is my life and I want Nicolai by my side while I live it. Today, I’m going to create something my artist will understand and no one is going to stand in my way.”
He couldn’t help being impressed. He’d never heard his quiet friend express herself so freely. Never seen Julianne so confident. Perhaps he’d been too quick to judge Nicolai. The change was incredible.
Julianne must have seen his weakening resolve because she ended her tirade with a joke. “Wow. I sound so bossy. Maybe I should become a Domme.” She winked at him. “Like you, huh.”
“Christ, woman.”
A hearty laugh echoed across the room as Jacques sauntered in, rubbing his inky hair with a towel. “My God, kitten. That would be a real tragedy.”
Even Darion took advantage of the comic relief. “I suppose I could train you, my lovely, but I’m quite sure Nicolai would never, ever, EVER, forgive me if I did.”
Everyone laughed. It was good to see Darion laugh. None of them had seen it for a while.
Julianne touched Darion’s hand. “You and he will reconcile, Darion.”
“You first, Julí. Go get him.” Jerard bent and pressed a kiss on her cheek.
She spun to face him and raised her hands to his face
, but kept her eyes on the fingers stroking his beard. “You’re an amazing friend, Jerard. Thank you for letting me cry on your shoulder, and keeping you up all night while I didn’t talk, and making you buy six quarts of ice cream, and...”
He dropped a kiss on her lips. “I love you too, Julí.”
Jacques leaned over her shoulder to peck another kiss on her cheek and teased, “You only need two words, chaton. Somewhere between ‘wanna’ and ‘fuck,’ he’s on the floor kissing your feet for forgiving him. Nico loves you, Julianne.”
Jerard shot Jacques a nasty look.
“What? He does.”
Jerard couldn’t seem to resist Jacques’s charm any more than anyone else could and he smiled begrudgingly at him.
“I believe that, Jacques,” Julianne said, laughing, and held out her hand. “Shall we, Darion?”
Darion took it and the look on his face said he believed too.
*****
Nicolai hadn’t been home for...hell, he didn’t even know.
He called Thomas to tell him to send a few things to the hotel when Thomas told him the gallery had been robbed, completely ransacked, and Nicolai had to go there to meet with the Paris police. Another time and the violation would have crushed him, but not now.
Nothing mattered to him now.
He slipped the key into the lock. The scent that greeted him was cruel and distracted his mind from the odd scene in the gallery. Nothing was out of place. Nothing was gone. All of his artwork sat exactly as he’d left it before that horrible trip to Monaco. But Thomas said...oh, he didn’t care. His mind registered only the gorgeous scent filling his nostrils. It was Julianne’s scent, a bitter reminder of her lingering in their place to torment him anew.
Closing the door behind him, Nicolai walked farther into the gallery. The scent became stronger. So did the pain. He was about to turn and run from it when he noticed a pedestal that hadn’t been there before. He moved to the wall and snapped on the light.
There, on top of the small stand, was a card. The script on it was in Julianne’s hand.
I asked you once what was real. You said that you and I are the only thing that is real. So there is only one question to be answered. Do you still believe?
What? How?
Confusion muddled his brain, but he walked toward the stairs, drawn like a moth to a flame. The studio was their place. The place where this all began.
Do I dare hope?
He was shaking hard as he descended a few steps, white-knuckled as he gripped the railing and bent down to peer through the open frosted glass doors.
La femme exquise.
Radiant. Kneeling on a satin pillow. Small feet peeking out from beneath her heart-shaped bottom. Pearl skin showered with light. Hair, a shimmer of mahogany tumbling over one delicate shoulder. Arms bound behind her back in an elaborate weave of black ribbon.
Nicolai’s heart slammed against his ribs. Julianne was speaking to him with his own words.
We don’t know what our future holds. All we can do is trust in each other. This experience is about building trust. It is meant to show you that if you entrust yourself to me, I will not harm you. I will only cherish you.
A tiny glint silhouetted against the dark silk caught his eye. Something hung from a silver thread in the doorway behind her.
Julianne didn’t turn as her melodious voice floated up the stairs. “I believe, Nicolai.”
He couldn’t move, his feet frozen on the steps, his mind racing.
She spoke again. “Do you?”
Nicolai rushed down the rest of the way and grabbed the string. Tied on the end was the key he’d returned to her. Taking it in his trembling hand, he looked down to see the diamond chain laid out across the floor. Relief, so exquisite it was almost pain, washed through him as he lifted it.
He sucked a breath through his teeth, afraid to move. If he walked through those doors, would the illusion fade? He took a first, tentative step. Would what he let happen eventually strip away Julianne's trust? Another step. Or was he strong enough to have faith and let Julianne love the real man with all his imperfections?
His heart thundered in his chest as he reached out to touch her.
She was real. Soft and warm beneath his hands.
So courageous.
So sexual.
So his.
His inspiration. His muse. His masterpiece.
And the brightest truth of all?
He was hers too.
Nicolai wrapped the chain around Julianne’s waist and answered from his renewed soul, “I believe.”
Two simple words that are infinitely…simple.
The End
Thank you for reading Masterpiece. I hope you enjoyed the fantasy! If you did, please take a moment to leave a review at your favorite retailer. A few kind words can work wonders. I am forever grateful for yours. Jillian
Did you fall in love with Jacques? Want to know if his prayers are answered?
Turn the page to read an excerpt from Paradise, the second novel in the Masters of The Order series by Jillian Verne.
Welcome back to The Order.
Destiny awaits…
Doms are not princes and Jacques Meszaros certainly isn’t. Or is he? A business tycoon, philanthropist and confirmed, unrepentant sexual Dominant, Jacques makes the rules. But doesn’t always abide them. On a whim, he offers Isabella Rey a soiree in paradise. What he finds when they arrive is a paradise uniquely his own: a destiny foretold long ago in the words of a gypsy.
Two women live inside Isabella. Her angel goes to church every Sunday, helps the sick and is fiercely loyal to family. Her devil is relegated to living in the shadows. Isabella is not looking for love, but a life-threatening twist of fate spurs her to pursue a fantasy. She allows her devil a moment in the sun. But paradise, once tasted, is not easily foregone.
…will theirs be a paradise lost or found?
Excerpt from Paradise - 1 - One of the Those Days
One word changes everything.
Isabella scurried down the endless hallway, numb, her white clogs squeaking on the shiny linoleum.
Don’t panic. Just get out the door. ¿Madre de Dios, dónde está?
She’d walked the sterile halls of the Institut Gustave Roussy thousands of times, but today she needed a damn map. Her mind was totally muddled. She turned one corner, then another. ¡Maldita sea! She had to backtrack. Of all the times to lose your autopilot. If she didn’t get outside soon, she was going to pass out.
Please make yourself comfortable, Mademoiselle Rey. The doctor will be with you shortly. May I get you anything while you wait, dear?
Dear. That word alone announced the news was going to be bad. Very bad. A receptionist does not offer comfort to a patient unless...this can't be happening. To someone else maybe, but not to me.
She was an oncology nurse at the Institut. Oncology patients were the people she cared for. Not me. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Her feet moved faster. She was vaguely aware of people moving around her, hurrying through their daily routines, oblivious to her plight as they blindly passed by. Please God, not me.
…a few more tests…a course of treatment. You’re in good hands here, Isabella. If we move quickly, we have a chance.
A chance. Why do doctors soft peddle everything? What he should have said was, “I tossed your lottery ticket in with all the others. Most lose, but, hey, you could be the lucky winner. Are you feeling lucky, kid?” She wanted to smack him, but Doctor Boucher was a gentleman. Polite, professionally sympathetic and completely detached.
I could have sworn the exit was right here.
Realizing she was on the wrong floor, she rushed into the stairwell. Taking the steps two at a time, she finally found the doors exiting to the back of the hospital. Shaking hands hit the metal bar.
Is there someone you would like to call? May I dial the phone for you?
Sure. She imagined that conversation. “Hi, it’s Isla and in a little while, you won’t be
hearing from me ever again, but in the meantime, let me drop a bomb on your life.”
Nunca. I will never do that to mis cariños.
She thought of her brothers. Joaquin. Rafael. Alejandro. Teodor. Even if she was selfish enough to call, what would she say? They would want to save her, protect her, take her pain, like they’d done all her life. But this wasn’t a scraped knee or a lost doll. For the first time, they couldn’t help her. That truth alone was hard enough for her to accept. Her four overprotective, overbearing, macho and absolutely perfect brothers would never, ever, ever accept it.
When she thought about Teo the dam burst. She loved him more than anyone and this news would destroy him. Her rock star brother and his band were on a roll, finally getting the attention they deserved, and she wasn’t about to ruin it for them. But it was so much more than that. Beneath the cool façade, Teo hid a sensitive soul. He was a true artist and had suffered too much. Drugs, rehab. He relied on her. What would happen to him if she…
Nope. I'm not telling anyone anything.
Just this morning, her mind had been filled with piddling things. Dry cleaning, bills, groceries. She’d planned to take her roommate to Teo’s concert at some swanky club on rue D’Orsay to thank him for painting Tía Olivia and Tío Leonardo’s wedding portrait. Their fiftieth wedding anniversary was coming up and the entire familia was reuniting in Barcelona to celebrate their fifty years.
Fifty years of piddling things that added together to make a happy life.
One word changes everything.
Cancer.
Deep in her heart, Isabella knew. She would never have fifty years.
*****
Damn, if it wasn’t one of those days. The kind that happens to everybody at some point, but still stuns the shit out of you when it’s your turn.
Masterpiece (The Masters of The Order Book 1) Page 38
