Masterpiece (The Masters of The Order Book 1) (9 page)

This is a man. Don’t feel the clay. Feel his skin.

As she worked the clay, she imagined her hands were touching Nicolai. She allowed herself become one with him. Pouring her feminine energy into his body. Absorbing his masculine energy through her hands. The clay became warm and soft. She molded it with slow, flexing fingers. Her strokes grew more tender. More loving. More lingering.

She was floating, unanchored from reality. There was only Nicolai’s scent and the sensual feel of his skin beneath her probing fingertips. Like a mirage, the image of the finished piece appeared in her mind. She saw every detail as if she was looking at a photograph.

“I can see him,” she said, astonished by the vision in her head.

“Wonderful,” Nicolai purred with satisfaction. “It appears we’ve unlocked another door in your mind. I cannot wait to see what lies within.” Removing his hands from the clay, he said, “He is yours now, Julianne. Love him well.”

Blue eyes captured hers as he stood and added firmly, “If you learn anything from me during our time together, let it be this. Never submit the expression of yourself as an artist to another person. If you do, your art will die. Believe in yourself as much as I believe in you and you can achieve anything.”

The power of Nicolai's words overwhelmed her. Celebrated for his own incredible talent and he believed in
her
as an artist. The beautiful man standing over her never wanted her to change in some feeble attempt to please him. He was challenging her to discover herself. He believed in her so strongly that he sought to set her free.

Freedom.

It seemed like such a simple concept, but for her it was almost impossibility. No one in her life ever placed that much confidence in her. No one ever told her to explore what was inside and set it free. She had only been held down. If she could ever be free, there would only be one reason: Because Nicolai Stavros set her free.

She knew Nicolai didn’t understand what he meant to her. How could he? She hadn’t revealed anything of her true self to him. Even though he deserved her truth, she didn’t give it.

Maybe someday she would find the courage, but for now, all she managed to say was “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, Julianne. It is my pleasure."

Nicolai bent to lay a soft kiss on her cheek and stepped away.

7

The Price

The butler opened the car door and stood silently, waiting for him to step out.

Darion didn’t hurry. This was not a social visit. He paused to appreciate the view, its majesty never ceasing to take his breath. The Mediterranean Sea spread out in the distance below, a dramatic sweep of crystal blue dotted with yachts gleaming like gems in the bright midday sun. He always thought it tragic that the builder of this Georgian mansion chose to face the front façade to the magnificent sea, leaving the back where the terrace and gardens were located to the lesser view up the mountainside. But it wasn’t his house.

He drew the salt air deep into his lungs as he emerged from the car, the gravel beneath his feet crunching with each long stride forward. He didn’t bother to wait for his escort.

The indifference rattled the dutiful servant’s decorum. “Please, my Lord. Allow me to show you to the library,” he pleaded as he scampered behind.

Darion didn’t slow his step. “Relax, Michael, I know my way.”

No doubt, the poor sap would be raking away his footprints the moment he stepped through the front doors. Twisting the knob to let himself into the house, Darion glanced up at the naked figures lining the pediment. Just a subtle clue to the man who lived within.

As he walked the maze of Xavier Talbot’s mansion, he focused on everything and nothing at all. Most people would have stared in amazement at the treasures surrounding them in this grand place, but he’d seen them all before. In fact, he procured many of the most precious pieces on Xavier’s behalf. And his mind was focused on other, more pressing matters.

As Darion entered the empty library, he chuckled to himself. Of course Xavier would make him wait. He’d used the same tactic. Anticipation intimidates far better than experience. In this case, however, he had little doubt that the experience would be much worse than the anticipation. He steeled his nerves. Fear had no place in this exchange.

This was business.

Within the Order, any Master who asked a favor of a higher Master paid for it. Being a Lord, one of three who presided over the whole group, he was more accustomed to receiving the homage, but not above giving it in the case of Xavier, the highest Master of the Order.

After a few moments, Xavier entered the long room from the opposite end, smiling coyly as he approached. A man in his fifties, he looked every bit the master of this fine residence. Thick, shoulder length silver hair was brushed back and tied with a simple leather thong. He wore a crisp blue linen jacket, white pleated trousers and a French cuffed shirt that was open to reveal a tanned neck. Delicate frames rimmed his grey eyes giving him an air of intelligence. Of course, there was truth behind the impression. Although he never shared many details about his past, it was apparent that Xavier was extraordinarily well-bred, cultured and highly educated.

“Greetings, my friend. I trust you had a pleasant trip.”

Darion groaned inwardly. He had no patience today for social pleasantries, but he answered politely, “I did, thank you. I pray you are well.”

“As well as I ever am, Darion. I’m hoping that the purpose of this personal visit will improve my bearing.” The tone of voice alone announced that Xavier was already savoring the outcome even without knowing the purpose.

No point delaying the inevitable. Darion went down on one knee in front of Xavier and placed his hand over his heart. “I have come to make a formal request, my Lord."

He didn’t have to see the sadistic smile cross Xavier’s fact to know it was there.

“You are willing to pay the price for my indulgence, should I grant it?"

Nothing was given for free and Xavier would take his bounty.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Then you may ask.”

“I request initiation of a new member to the Order. Nicolai has become enamored with a woman and, I believe, she with him.”

“Nicolai? You’re not asking for yourself?"

The shark scented blood.

The Order lived by protocol. Requests for initiation could be made to any Lord and Nicolai could have made this request to Darion. The fact that Darion was making the request on his protégé’s behalf showed weakness, but he had no other choice. Nicolai didn’t have enough faith in himself to take this step. Darion did. His pain was worth the chance that Julianne could eradicate Nicolai’s past and become his future.

“No. Nicolai still fights his demons, my Lord. I act on his behalf out of love for him.”

“Interesting.” Xavier ran a hand over Darion’s head and worked his fingers into the long locks. “My day is improving by the word. What is our new friend’s name?”

“
Mademoiselle
Julianne Giroux. She is well bred and an art student…”

“Absolutely not,” Xavier snapped, his tone harsh and unyielding, “I will not have a Giroux in the Order.”

Surprise threw Darion momentarily off guard and his eyes shot up. “What?”

Xavier’s fist tightened in his hair. “I should punish you for your insolence.”

The Order’s rituals were formal and Xavier would be within his right if he did. Darion forced his gaze back to the floor. “I apologize, my Lord. I beg you indulge me with a reason.”

“My reasons are my own, Darion. We have known one another for a very long time. In this matter, I require your trust.”

To hell with protocol.

Darion stood to meet the eyes of a man he’d known for almost two decades. The pain he saw there shocked him. To show such raw emotion was completely uncharacteristic of the man he thought he knew so well. Xavier had been laid bare at the mention of Julianne’s name and he had no idea why.

He was flying blind, praying for a gust of wind instead of a brick wall, as he said, “You have my trust, Xavier, but this will break my beloved Nicolai’s heart.”

Xavier’s eyes iced over. “I doubt that."

Darion ran his fingers back and forth over his closed lids to retain his composure. He may be a powerful man in his own right, but Xavier Talbot could do anything he damn well pleased. He had no control over Xavier. He did, however, have his own agenda for this conversation and anger wouldn’t advance it.

Darion continued in a placating tone. “With all due respect, Xavier, I don’t understand your objection. Julianne comes from a fine family. Colonel Giroux is an accomplished and well respected gentleman.”

“Don’t you dare say that bastard’s name in my presence again, Darion.”

So Julianne wasn’t the problem. Her father was. He could work with that.

“Whatever wrong has been done to you, brother, is mine to avenge. Because of our history together, I will not question your reasons, only appeal to your compassion.” He paused, hoping the capitulation would ease Xavier’s insistence, and handed him a picture of Julianne. “Her only sin is falling in love with a man who loves her in return. Should she be punished for that? Should Nicolai?”

Xavier’s breath caught as he looked at the image, so entranced that he seemed to forget Darion’s presence.

Odd. Very odd.

Silence stretched between them, which told Darion he’d made some headway, but he knew better than to push. Ruffling Xavier’s feathers would assure the wrong result simply as a point of pride. He checked his ego and waited.

Xavier spoke first. “As always, your logic is sound, Darion. Julianne is stunning. I am not saying yes, but I am not saying no either. I will consider it.”

Darion was quiet for a moment, considering his counterpoints. He rolled several through his mind, rejecting each one in turn. This was better than a flat-out no and it left the future open. At least this way, he would have time to discover the reason for Xavier’s reluctance. Reacting to something that may never happen would bring nothing positive so he bowed his head and extended his hand.

“Thank you.”

Xavier didn’t take it. The currency of a simple handshake wouldn’t seal this deal.

“You have asked much of me, Darion. Far more than you know. The price will be high.”

*****

The bike roared between his legs.

Nicolai swerved around the little cars crowding the city streets. He loved the freedom of riding his motorcycle. Loved the power and control as he drove her hard.

“I promise to take you out of the iron jungle soon, baby, but today we have other plans,” he purred to the Ducati beneath him. She growled in reply as he hit the throttle.

Today he was going to tie down a loose end: the famed Jerard Gagne. Julianne was far too fond of this so-called friend for his liking. Jerard had become a distraction and Nicolai did not like distractions.

Julianne made an offhand remark about spending less time at the gallery. Said she didn’t want to become a burden. As far as he was concerned, the only burden was her not being around often enough. Something in the way she spoke told him that the suggestion was not her own. It didn’t take much prodding to make her confess, “Jerard thinks I’m spending too much time with you. He’s worried that we’re getting too close.”

Ridiculous. Julianne was going to spend more time with him. Not less. And they were about to get a hell of a lot closer. His plan for his furtive female did not include some miscreant putting doubts into her head. So it was
au revoir
to the distraction.

He pulled into the lot at the Clichy-sous-Bois site and shut down the engine. As he slid off the bike, he surveyed the group huddled around a canvas and picked out his target with ease.

Ahh, the friend
. Jerard was handsome enough, but
Mon Dieu
, the clothes. Street casual was one thing, but didn't the boy own an iron? Or a hair brush?
What could Julianne possibly find appealing in this cretin?

Several of the kids recognized him. He didn’t particularly want the attention right now, but this little show would remind Jerard who he was. He stopped to give them their celebrity moment. Jerard stayed back, dark eyes fixed as the students fawned all over him.

So the boy is marking me too.

Nicolai reviewed the mural piece, gave a few compliments, offered a few suggestions and after just the right amount of time to show Jerard his insignificance, extricated himself to "greet" the guy with daggers in his eyes.

“Jerard Gagne, I presume. Julianne's
friend
,” he said the word derisively, his tone ironic.

Jerard met the aggression head on. “Nick Stavros, I presume. Julianne's
teacher
.” The irony in Jerard's voice equally clear.

Nicolai chuckled at the alpha attitude. "At your service."

Jerard eyed the bike. “What a waste of a machine. Where'd you learn to ride? Boarding school. I thought rich boys like you only traveled in chauffeur-driven Bentleys.” Then his eyes narrowed with accusation. “Wait. No chauffeur. You had Brent take Julianne somewhere far away from here, didn't you, you manipulative bastard?”

Hatred poured off Jerard in waves. In another situation, Nicolai could actually like Jerard's moxie, but not in this one. The bitter reaction confirmed his suspicion that there was a lot more to this
friend
than Julianne understood. The task today might be more precarious than he’d thought, but he could handle it.

Nicolai didn’t flinch. Simply shot Jerard a level look and threw the next barb. “Be careful, Jerard. Jealousy leads to ugly things.”

Jerard ignored the implied threat and sparred back. “Tell me something,
teacher
,” he mocked, “why don’t you tell Julianne what you’re really after? I heard about your little lesson the other day in the studio. It confused her, but I set her straight." His voice lowered to a menacing growl. "You hurt her like that again and you'll answer to me.”

“Watch your tone, Jerard. What happens between me and Julianne is not your concern.”

Jerard’s fists clenched. “The hell it’s not. I’ve known her for years. I know her better than you ever will. When she finishes with this sham of an apprenticeship, I swear to God, I'll take her away from you for good.” He ground out the words without bothering to mask the jealousy or possessiveness on his face.

“Why, so you can have her yourself? I think not. I came here today to tell you one thing. Back. Off,” Nicolai yelled, surprised at his outburst.

The angry reply revealed too much.

Jerard saw it and let Nicolai know that he did. “Or what? Who’s jealous now?” Jerard flashed a cocky grin. “Julianne may not see you clearly, but I know what you are."

"And what is that exactly?"

"A fraud."

The accusation hit too damn close to home and Nicolai suddenly found himself on uncomfortable ground. "You know nothing," he scoffed.

"Don't I,
teacher?
" After a pregnant pause, Jerard dropped the bomb. "Or should I say Master?"

Interesting development
. Nicolai studied the young man in front of him trying to put together the pieces. He wasn't sure the conclusion he was reaching was correct, but there was only way to find out.

"So the boy is more than he seems. We share the same passions, Jerard. Perhaps we can be
friends
after all."