Masterpiece (The Masters of The Order Book 1) (3 page)

She bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood.

“Well, well. Fascinated, are we?”

Julianne shook free of her erotic musing and turned back to the suspended man with the nice voice. “What was that?” she asked trying not to sound as shaken as she felt at being so exposed.

“That, my innocent, was a beginning. New to the life?”

“Not exactly.” Her eyes drifted to the fingers clenching her glass.

“Care to elaborate?”

She loosened her grip. “Only if you care to tell me why you’re up there like that.”

“My Mistress put me in here as a punishment. It’s not though, I actually like it.” He flashed a nonchalant smile. “But if she sees me talking to a pretty girl like you, she’ll be really pissed. So ask your question before I get into real trouble.”

Julianne glanced up, but avoided looking directly into his face. “What makes you think I have a question?”

“If you’re not into the life, why else would a classy girl like you come here? You’re not a reporter, are you?”

“No,” she said, meeting his eyes.

He rolled onto his side so his whole body faced her, the movement swinging the cage ever so slightly. “Oh, I see.”

“See what?”

“Why you’re here.”

“You have no idea why I’m here.”

“I do and I’ll tell you why. It’s the same reason we’re all here, pretty girl.” He propped himself up on one arm and leaned forward. “You’re not interested in the average guy, are you?”

He can see that? Even in the dark. Look where you are, Julianne. Of course, he can see it.

She raised her chin in defiance. “You don’t know me, sir. You have no idea who I am or what I’m interested in.”

If he was offended, he didn’t show it. “First, sugar, I’m a sub. You don’t call me ‘sir.’ My name is Lucas. Second, I know exactly who you are.”

“Really?”

“Really. You’re smart. Smart enough to understand yourself. And you’re brave. Brave enough to come to a place like this alone. Maybe even a little desperate. You’re searching for something. You haven’t found it yet, but you’re searching. And how do I know all this, you ask?” he said rather smugly.

“I didn’t actually,” she grumbled.

“Because not too long ago, I was sitting where you are now. Trust me…” Lucas raised an eyebrow in question.

“Julianne.”

“Trust me, Julianne. I know exactly what you’re interested in.”

“You seem like a nice person, Lucas, but, honestly…”

“You’re scared. I was afraid to admit it too, Julianne. I wondered if I was a freak because I wanted things that other people scoffed at.”

She met his eyes.

“No one here will judge you, but this place,” Lucas swung his hand around the inside of his cage, “might be a little rough for someone like you. You don’t seem the type for the club scene.”

Her brows knit together. Why did that annoy her? Lucas wasn’t being patronizing. He was being honest. She didn’t belong here. Her shoulders slumped.

“I thought maybe if I came here, I might…” she put a hand to her mouth to stop the word…
escape
.

“You might what, Julianne?”

There was something so gentle in his voice that she found herself talking. “You’re right. This is the first time I’ve ever been to a club, let alone one with a reputation like this one.”

“Whoa, no starting small for the lady,” Lucas teased. “You might be the bravest woman I’ve ever met.”

“I’m not brave. I am looking for something though. Something I can never have.”

“Why? Because you have money?”

“It’s complicated.” She’d said too much already so she let Lucas assume she was talking about social class.

“Why don’t you let me help you figure it out? Maybe we can make things less complicated.”

Why is Lucas being so nice to me? And why do I find myself trusting a complete stranger?

As if he read her thoughts, Lucas answered, “Because we’re not so different.”

“I don’t think I want to be locked in a cage in the middle of a crowded bar, Lucas.”

“No, but you think submission is sexy.”

Julianne nodded and looked away.

“Hey, pretty girl, look at me.”

She met his eyes again.

“It is. Very, very sexy. There’s a place in this lifestyle for everyone, Julianne. You just have to find yours. I shouldn’t do this, but I always seem to do what I shouldn’t.”

“Hence the cage.” She rolled her hand along the bottom, emphasizing the obvious.

“Maybe it’s that,” he said, laughing, “or maybe I just like you.”

“I like you too, Lucas.”

“Have you heard of the Order?”

“The Order. What’s that?”

“A place for someone like you. If the gossips are right, the Order is the most exclusive group of players in our lifestyle. A secret society. Big time money and power. Only the best of the best.”

Now that’s interesting.

Julianne never imagined her fantasies could be realized at all, let alone within the strata of society she was raised for, but Lucas seemed to be suggesting otherwise. She prodded him to tell her more, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible while they talked for fear that Lucas’s Mistress would end their conversation and her new friend would get into “real trouble."

So not imagining what Lucas meant by that.

The Order wasn’t about leather and leashes. Well not exactly. Lucas described a high society group who shared a taste for the more extreme pleasures in life, but “in a slightly more discreet way,” as he put it. According to their reputation, their connection to one another extended beyond sex into business, politics and philanthropy.

They did sound more like the people in her world. European life was rife with secret societies and the right affiliations offered access to its highest echelons. Her father always wanted the best for her and what Lucas described about the social status of the membership certainly fit the Colonel’s definition.

Maybe, if I was with a man like that…

“So, speaking hypothetically, if someone wanted to find this Order, how would they do it?”

“Speaking hypothetically, you don’t find them, sugar. They find you. That is, if you’re very, very lucky. Are you lucky, little girl?” The last words sung as a lascivious tease.

I am not a little girl.

Lucas paused as if enjoying her impatience, then added, “I can tell you there are a couple of guys who hang here from time to time who generate a lot of talk. I guess even kings slum it every once in a while.”

“Do you mean that literally? The part about kings. Are they royalty?”

“Damn close. Modern day royalty for sure.”

“If they’re here, then you can introduce me,” she said expectantly.

“Afraid not.”

Julianne suspected as much, but that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Why not?” she sighed with a disappointed thrust of her bottom lip.

“Wow. That’s gorgeous."

She looked at Lucas with a question in her eyes.

“The way you look when you pout. I know a few Doms who would just about melt if they saw that. I can introduce you to one of them.”

Her spine snapped straighter.

“Perhaps another time,” he said, getting back on track. “There are two reasons. Secrecy and connections. People who enjoy this lifestyle often shroud themselves in secrecy. Public awareness is risky and in the case of the Order, probably costly. Secrecy protects them. Protects us all.

“On top of that, clubs and networks are very common and just like anything else, the higher you climb on the social ladder, the more exclusive they become. So you see, even if the guys who hang out here are in the Order, my lovely, pouty little girl, you won’t know it without the right connections.”

Who am I kidding?
It didn’t matter anyway. Even if she found the Order, her father would never allow her to belong to it. When it came to sex and his daughter, the Colonel was downright puritanical. Dating was absolutely forbidden.

Julianne imagined the conversation.
Père, I need your blessing to join a group who indulge a lifestyle based on promiscuity and power exchange, but don’t worry, they’re all rich and powerful like you.

Pas possible. But it's fun to imagine.
“Then I guess I’m screwed,” she murmured.

Lucas laughed at that and started showing her around. Well, given that he was locked in a cage, he didn’t actually show her. He pointed to things he thought she might find interesting.

And she did. More than a little.

For the first time in her life, she’d found a person who didn’t think the things she dreamed about were weird or perverted. She had so many questions. Lucas answered each one and encouraged more, but too soon, he wasn’t satisfied to simply talk.

“Come on, Julianne. You’re a natural. Pleeeaaassse let me introduce you around,” he said as his head fell a bit too dramatically against the bars.

“I’ve said no one hundred times, Lucas. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Your mouth says, ‘no, no,’ but your eyes say, ‘yes, yes.’” He winked at her.

“Even if I said yes, which I’m not, how do you intend to do that?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest and eyeing the cage.

“All I have to do is signal that gorgeous lady at the end of the bar and she will come for me.” He pointed a finger through the bars.

Julianne turned to look. “
Mon Dieu
. Is that her?”

“Sure is,” Lucas said with pride.

Lucas’s Mistress raised her wine glass and Julianne felt her body tighten. Even though it would be impossible to be overheard given the riotous music in the bar, she leaned up. “Why hasn’t she interrupted us?”

“You don’t have to whisper,” he whispered back. “She must be enjoying something about seeing us together like this. Besides, she knows I don’t want her to.”

“Won’t you get into trouble?” Julianne asked a bit louder.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But this conversation is really important. I wish I had someone to talk to when I started in the life.”

“I’m not starting in the life, Lucas.”

“Yeah, right. But you’re interested in the Order. I’ll tell you one thing for sure. If they find you, Julianne, you will be. Faster than you can say, ‘I’m not starting in the life.’”

“Was that some kind of a threat?”

“Nope, it was a compliment. Look in the mirror, baby.”

Julianne wanted to keep talking so she accepted the compliment and turned her attention back to the conversation. At the end of the night, a simple goodbye wasn’t enough. So she climbed onto her barstool and kissed Lucas.

Smack! Right between the bars.

“You do know I’m in big trouble for that.” Lucas grinned.

“Uh-huh.” She grinned back. “You can thank me another time.”

They both laughed like best friends sharing a naughty secret.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Julianne. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Thank you, Lucas. I will.” For now, all she had to do was sneak back into the house without getting caught.

Lucas may have a Mistress who puts him in a cage, but that's nothing compared to the Colonel.

3

Frosted Glass

September

“Favorite twentieth century artist?”

“Marcel Duchamp. He’s one. Actually, he’s my favorite, although most people don’t believe me when I say that.” Julianne shrugged. “For me, art lives inside the mind and the soul, not only the eye.”

Of course, people don't believe her. Only a fool would believe that a stunner like Julianne couldn’t be more than skin deep and isn’t the world chock full of fools.

Nicolai let his tone announce his opinion of anyone who underestimated his apprentice.
“No truer words have ever been spoken, Julianne. Duchamp is a favorite of mine as well. Don’t listen to the fools.”

“I try not to, sir.” Her eyes drifted away, looking inward. “Art is my only truth.”

He paused, tempted to ask what she meant by that, but didn’t. He decided to test her honesty instead.

“I want to show you something. Come with me.”

He led Julianne down the stairs to the studio and went to retrieve his latest painting. It was a unique privilege to view an artist’s work before the piece was completed. In fact, he’d never shown an unfinished piece to anyone, but something told him that Julianne would recognize the high compliment he was offering.

Returning to the open area, he uncovered the canvas. To most, it would appear to be nothing more than a masterful rendering of a classic nude. Would Julianne appreciate the subtlety or simply see a picture of a pretty naked girl?

“What do you think?”

Her eyes flared wide at the question. Critiquing any artist’s work to their face was intimidating and Nicolai could see her reluctance to critique his. To his utter delight, she cleared her throat and gave an honest opinion.

“This painting is a deception. The docile pose, the setting, the delicate flowers around her are all lies. They suggest love or romance, but this woman’s ecstasy doesn’t come from those things. Her eyes are the truth. The look in them is chilling. And the set of her mouth is evil. Her ecstasy comes from devouring her lovers."

Julianne looked as if she fully expected him to be insulted.

He wasn’t. She saw the darker undercurrent.

How refreshing
.

“Is she your lover?"

“No,” he answered tightly. “She is every lover I’ve ever had.”

And so began the first of many discussions about his art.

October

Julianne grumbled under her breath and headed to the stairs.

Nicolai’s “suitable dress” turned out to be nothing more than a thin white cotton sheath. Awful wasn’t the word, but she understood her place in this little hierarchy of two. To make matters worse, Nicolai insisted she work in bare feet. Punishment, he said, for letting her heels clack on the floor the first day they met.

She looked down at her toes.
Punishment, hah. It's torture. I miss my babies.

But this was Nicolai's world and in it, his rules applied. Strange that she found security in that, but she did.

The studio was cavernous with a high ceiling and as large as the gallery upstairs. A frosted glass wall with huge floor-to-ceiling glass doors divided the space, separating Nicolai’s work area from hers. Pewter handles identical to the ones on the exterior doors to the gallery were the room’s only adornment. Everything else was white. White walls. White ceiling. White floor. White light. Nicolai said the lack of color represented discipline, which he believed to be the backbone of creativity. He also said the white setting assured proper reverence for the color of the art being created there. “My studio is designed for creating. Its soul is whatever emerging work of art sits at its center.”

Julianne unscrewed the paint caps, drawing the familiar, somehow comforting smell deep into her nostrils and thought about the man who worked behind those frosted doors. Like his studio, unless you looked very carefully, you could easily miss his essence. The artist was so different from the aloof, contained person Nicolai presented to the rest of the world. Even though she couldn’t see him clearly through the glass, the intense emotion he poured into his work was unmistakable. When he created his art, he exuded passion, heat and raw male sexuality. There was a wildness in him that she could barely comprehend, but could not resist. Given her own hidden nature, she easily recognized the falsity of his outward persona and wondered endlessly about the true nature of the man who had become such a driving force in her life. She liked to believe he hid a loving side.

Because he's sure shown me the sadistic side
, she thought as she spread the colors onto her palette with a resigned sigh.

On their first day together, Nicolai told her to paint a still life of a fruit bowl. When she finished, he reviewed her work, then covered the entire canvas in white paint with a roller. He didn't criticize or compliment, only presented her with another blank canvas saying, “Art lives inside the soul, Julianne. Again.”

Using my own words against me. I guess this is my punishment for trying to be hoity-toity with him about Duchamp.

She lifted her brush and began again. She'd painted the same lifeless image so many times she'd lost count. She'd used different techniques to apply color and texture. Painted it from different perspectives. Even experimented with various art styles, from Expressionism to Modernism, copying the techniques of the masters as best she could. But each painting met the same white end.

Nothing she did impressed her extraordinary teacher.

Not yet.

Not even close.

But I will. Even if it kills me, Nicolai, I will. You're not the only one in this studio who is more than they seem.

November

Nicolai checked his watch. Turned from the doors. Paced the length of his gallery. Checked his watch again.

Where the hell is she?

Julianne was volunteering with the Art Saves Center this morning.
Can everyone say, "Not Pleased!"
But as a benefactor of the Center, he couldn’t exactly say no. Brent called about forty,
non
, forty-three minutes ago, and the trip from Clichy-sous-Bois should have taken thirty at most.

I have work to do, for Christ’s sake, and waiting around for Julianne isn’t getting it done.

He should start without her, but he was too damn distracted. This is why he’d insisted that his driver accompany Julianne when she ventured into that horrid neighborhood.

She tried to dissuade him. “Arriving at a charity project in a chauffeured Bentley, well, it just seems wrong."

Pardon
, but he did not share that opinion. His final words on the subject were, “No Brent, no mural."

She chose Brent.

If he wasn’t sure that Julianne was with Brent today, he would have gone ballistic. Nicolai ripped out his cell phone and dialed…the bell at the door chimed.

Enfin
. “You’re late,” he barked.

Julianne hurried through the door, removing her coat as she walked. God, he loved the way she dressed. Sophisticated with a touch of high class sexy. It was a look many women tried for, but few were able to muster. Maybe he should insist that she stop working in Clichy-sous-Bois. The image of her in that dead place, looking so lovely and fresh, made him shudder.

Forget Brent. Next time, I'm going with.

“I apologize, sir. I asked Brent to make a stop before we returned.” Julianne smiled and of course, it was the smile that sent all his anger out the window. “I brought you something.”

“You should have called,” he snapped, ignoring the doe eyes and holding fast to the annoyance Julianne was artfully trying to whittle away.

“I wanted to surprise you.” She handed him a tattered book.

“What’s this?”

“A bit of inspiration.”

He flipped through the sketchbook at a loss for words. The pages were yellowed and the leather binding was worn, but Julianne’s gift was priceless.

“I noticed Merello’s influence in your latest work and called to tell him what you’re doing. He offered this.”

His jaw dropped and Julianne’s eyes lit with happiness. Merello was a favorite contemporary artist and the primary influence for his current series of paintings. To have his sketches was an incomparable privilege.

“We have to return it, but for now, it’s yours. I hope you enjoy it, sir.” The satisfied tone said Julianne knew he would more than enjoy it.

The idea of parting with something so extraordinary challenged Nicolai’s ethics. For the time being, he would cherish it. No one had ever given him such a poignant gift. In fact, most women only took from him.

But Julianne isn’t like most women.

Julianne is unique.

“Your thoughtfulness humbles me, Julianne.
Merci
.”

December

“
Bonjour
, Eugene.
Bonjour
, Hazel.
Joyeux Noël
.”

Julianne smiled to herself and slipped the key into the lock. Would Nicolai appreciate the irony of her pet names for the exotic sculptures that doubled as door handles at his gallery?

Probably not. The man is too serious for his own good
.

Even this early, the rue was bustling. Chatter and laughter echoed over Christmas music. Shoppers decked in holiday finery searched for the perfect last-minute gift for the lucky someone whose personal Santa could afford to shop here. The rich smell of chocolate and chestnut from the buche-de-noel tempted each passerby to join the line that spilled out of the bakery door and disappeared around the corner. But Julianne had no taste for the festivities this year. Or time for that matter. Nicolai had proven to be every bit the challenge he’d promised to be. And then some. Today, like every other, she followed the strict regimen he imposed on her.

The carols faded as she closed the door.

Impossible that tomorrow is Christmas. Where has the time gone?

Alone in his office, she plucked an antique book on the Renaissance from his extensive collection and began to read. As it turned out, Nicolai liked her "hoity-toity" talk. Debating him about art had become a daily ritual - by far her favorite part of the apprenticeship - but it was hard to keep up. His "hoity-toity" put hers to shame so she always arrived at the gallery first to raid his library or study his work in private before the great debate began.

Guess the strict regimen on my time isn’t solely Nicolai’s design
, she thought with a rush of pride
.

After an hour or so, Julianne pulled her head out of the book. The memory of those Yule logs had her salivating, but she couldn’t spare the time to go out for food. At this hour, Nicolai would expect to find her here. Assuming he even made an appearance today. She ignored her grumbling stomach and went downstairs.

Positioned her easel to face the stairs –
just in case
- she began to paint.....

..…footsteps echoing overhead distracted her from her Cubist bananas.

“
Bonjour
, Julianne,” Nicolai called down to her.

She smiled and called back knowing that was all he would say for a while. Not being talkative herself, she didn’t mind. She was comfortable with silence and he was here. Just hearing his voice was enough. Listening to him moving around upstairs, she knew he would spend a few minutes at the computer in his office, make a phone call or two, and then change out of his suit before coming downstairs.

As if scripted, Nicolai descended the steps wearing his own suitable dress for painting: a long sleeved white shirt and simple white pants. Even without the suit, the man carried himself with a masculine elegance that was stunning.

And with the sight of him came the naughty thought,
I've been a good girl. Why can't I have him for Christmas?

The man brought out the vixen in her.
And
I didn't even know I had one
, she thought with a giggle.

Instead of heading directly for the frosted doors as he usually did, he approached her. "Are you alright, Julianne?"

She blinked off the fantasy of Nicolai under the Christmas tree.

Naked.

Feeding her chocolate while he…

"Um." His finger touched the place where her teeth were digging into her bottom lip.

"I apologize, sir. I'm distracted. You know, with the holidays and everything."

He slanted his eyes away from her mouth “It’s cold today. Indulge me, Julianne, and wear this,” he said, holding out a white sweater.

That phrase
.

When Nicolai brought food to the gallery, “Indulge me, Julianne, and eat something.”

When he presented her with an iPhone, “Indulge me, Julianne. I feel more comfortable knowing I can reach you at any time.”

When he asked her to stay late while he worked in his studio, “Indulge me, Julianne, and stay.”