Masterpiece (The Masters of The Order Book 1) (18 page)

Jacques barreled right ahead. “And that is what exactly?”

“A lover. A plain vanilla, traditional lover.”

There was no hiding his reaction to that statement. Now Jacques wasn’t only shocked. He was pissed. Doms were not afforded the luxury of such naïveté. How could Nico have convinced himself that sacrificing his own sexuality would somehow protect his woman? He knew better. The more he repressed, the more risk he might actually hurt Julianne, not to mention himself.

Not letting you venture down denial lane, cousin
. “What? Nico, you’re not wired for traditional. Neither am I, and from what you just told me, neither is Julianne. Naked, bound and she comes not once, but multiple times. Use your head. You know what that means. The fact that the girl hasn’t had a score of love affairs before coming to you is irrelevant. Her sexuality is what it is. If you ask me, she’s lucky to have found you before some insecure moron convinces her that she’s a sinner or a slut. She needs a Master.”

“No, damn you. She does not.”

Jacques knew he’d hit a nerve. His high-brow cousin wasn’t one to raise his voice, but Nicolai shouted those words furiously. Jacques didn’t back down.

“Yes, she does. And I’ll tell you another truth. If you pull back and lie about who you are in some insane quest to protect her, you will break her. You will destroy that beautiful submissive and make her ashamed of who she is and what she needs.”

“You didn’t read her journal.” Nico sounded absolutely defeated as he reached down to pick up a book from the floor that Jacques hadn’t noticed until that moment.

“That’s it. She actually wrote everything?”

Nico nodded.

“Did he?” Jacques tilted his head. No need to ask this one out loud.

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Anything in there worse than what you’ve told me?”

Nico shook his head again.

“Then why are we having this argument. Her father may have abused her, but he didn’t abuse her sexually. I fail to see the connection between his bullshit and her sexuality. Don’t condemn her to a boring, unsatisfying love life because of her father’s ignorance.”

“Read it for yourself, Jacques.” Nico opened the journal and handed it to him. “If I become her Master, she will hate me.”

Jacques sat cross-legged on the floor at Nico’s feet and read the last passage. He remained mute for a minute, organizing his thoughts. He could see Nico’s point, but he didn’t agree with it. He had to dismantle this bomb with extreme caution.

“She’s not writing about you. This doesn’t mean she isn’t a submissive or that she doesn’t want you as her Dominant. The difference is consent. You’ve spent months building her trust in you, which is pretty amazing given what she’s been through. You didn’t lose that trust. You made a mistake.

“In this lifestyle, we all strive for perfection, but how many of us achieve it? She’s pissed off at daddy, but aren’t we all? I see no reason in any of this why you should become something you’re not to please a woman who wants the real you.”

Jacques watched his pigheaded cousin mull his comments over in his mind looking for fault, but the logic was sound. Consent was the key difference. Nico was simply too upset to see it.

After a minute, Nico huffed a resigned sigh. “You sure you’re not a lawyer?”

Jacques grinned. Progress.

“I know what I am, Jacques, and I know what she is, but her past makes our situation far more complicated than it would be if she was only a novice. Before she told me what she’d been through and I read that journal, I took her behavior for granted. I thought she was just like any other submissive woman. But she isn’t. She was never given a choice. She was forced. I’m not sure she even comprehends the difference. I don’t think she would deny me anything I asked, even if it was harmful to her. That’s a heavy responsibility.”

Now his cousin sounded like the responsible Dom he was.

“I understand, Nico. It’s a delicate balance."

"It's a delicate balance for any man, but for a man like me, with my past? All I've ever done is play with the women in my life. It's all I ever thought I would do and now I have Julianne." Nicolai let his head hang on his shoulders. "
Je ne sais pas
. I just don't know. Those eyes when she looks at me, Jacques…can I become the man she thinks I am? Can I be the man she needs me to be?"

The lost look on his cousin's face made Jacques want to hit something. Or someone. Damn, Alexi Stavros and his caustic legacy.

"You're a good man, Nico. You can handle it and you don’t have to do it alone. I can help you. Darion can too. Hell, any of your brothers in the Order can. That's the whole point. We share the responsibility and the risks. We support each other. Always have, always will.”

Reminding Nico of all of the people who would support him in his new life with Julianne seemed to lighten him, but Jacques knew words were only the start. It would take experience to prove to Nico that he was a good man, a worthy man, and no one knew better than Jacques that beneath all those layers of self-doubt, a beautiful man.

“Do you want to cuddle too?” Nico teased.

“
Très drôle, connard
.”

“I am quite funny, but seriously Jacques, it’s not only about her. It’s about me too. It scares me how much I need this woman. I can’t lose her. With her, everything feels new. I know this sounds absurd given my history, but with her, I feel like a virgin.” He pressed his face back into his hands and murmured, “I think I’m falling in love.”

“Um. That would be ‘fell in love,’ Romeo, not ‘falling.’ When does Juliet move in?”

Perhaps the star-crossed lovers illusion was a bit ominous given Xavier’s interest in Julianne, but they both chose to ignore that elephant for now.

“Saturday.”

“Trust yourself, Nico. Everything will work out.”

“I have no other choice, but I will never forget what she wrote. I can’t. I vowed that I would never hurt her and I never will. I may not be what Julianne thinks I am, but I have to try. While I figure it out, I’m going to take this slow. Really slow.”

Jacques had said enough. He could see in Nico’s body language that his cousin had calmed down. This plan was a good one even if it did involve Nico holding back for a while. Given the combustible passion between Nico and his muse, he was certain neither would remain repressed for very long. The time was right to lighten up the brooding artist.

“You do know that you’re one lucky bastard to have found a woman like Julianne. That scene was hot. I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”

Nico’s eyes glazed over at the memory. “You should have seen her, Jacques. Un-fucking-believable.”

Now, they were really making progress.

“Tsk, tsk. And you didn’t invite me. Someday, I might let you make it up to me,” Jacques teased before adding suggestively, “when do I meet our
femme fatale
?”

“Will you be back from Japan for the opening? She’ll be there.”

Jacques never missed one of Nico’s openings and he definitely wouldn’t miss this one. “We’re flying in Darion’s G550. I could be back before I leave in that jet. Of course, I’ll be there. How far am I allowed to go?”

“One kiss.” Nico stuck one finger in Jacques’s face to emphasize his point.

“Oh, Nico.” Jacques collapsed against the dais like Cinderella in her stepmother’s garden and feigned tears. “You’re a fucking sadist.”

Nico laughed so hard he fell back onto the pillow next to his cousin.

Fait accompli.

14

Finding Home

Julianne glanced around the foyer.

She should hate him for what he did to her here, but deep in her heart, she forgave. She heard him, late at night, alone with his tears. So much pain for a lost love.

But he was supposed to love me too.

Setting the envelope on the center table, she murmured, “I’m sorry,
Maman
. I have to leave him.”

Will he cry for me too? Will he ever understand?”

Wiping the last of her tears, she closed the door.

Never to look back.

*****

Darion chuckled, “You look awful,” and rang the doorbell.

“And you look like a damn debutante,” Jacques groaned, craning his neck from side to side. “I hate Asia travel. The time change is worse than a brutal Mistress.”

“Then you’re lucky we’re here,” Darion said as they waited at the
genkan
. “Kotani’s women make pampering into an art.”

The door slid open.

“You might have a point.”

Jacques smiled at the delicate woman bowing to him. Her elaborate green and orange kimono draped elegantly over her slight frame, but the dress wasn’t exactly traditional. Although she was modestly covered from her neck to her ankles, the paper-thin silk clung to her body with seductive suggestion as she moved.

“
Yohkoso
.” Her voice chimed like a bell.

“Right back at you, gorgeous,” he answered as they stepped through the door.

Their host joined them in the entry hall. “Welcome to my humble home, Darion. Welcome, Jacques.”

Takahiro Kotani’s home was far from humble. He was the chairman of a Japanese bank as well as a member on the board of directors for several Asian companies and his fine home announced that esteemed status. Takahiro was widely respected within the Order because he offered entrée to business partners throughout Asia. He was wildly popular because he lived with a bevy of beauties who were all trained in the geisha arts. Among other talents.

“You must be tired from your trip. Come. I have a light meal waiting to refresh you.” He placed a hand on the shoulder of the woman next to him and turned to Jacques. “I chose Akako for you especially, Jacques-san.”

“I am very grateful, Kotani-sensai. Akako is a lovely woman with a lovely name,” Jacques replied with a deep bow.

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.