Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two

by Verne, Jillian

  Teo sat in the far corner playing his guitar for no one. Later it would be Shea, then Teo again. Insurance. Jerard could overpower her with ease and when his need became strong enough, he would almost certainly try. They wouldn’t let him. They would tie him down if they had to. No way he was getting anywhere near that staircase.

  They’d sent Julianne home. She wanted to stay, but one look at her and you knew she had no role in the coming hours. She’d done her part, run around cleaning up, fetching towels, water, anything they needed. She needed rest and time to digest what was happening to her best friend. Her guilt at not knowing resonated from every inch of her. She’d left, but she would be back. Right when Jerard needed her the most.

  And Jacques was upstairs.

  Jacques. In the flurry of the morning, she hadn’t had time to think about why she asked Julianne to text him. She made it seem as if she was just checking off another item on her list of things to do for Jerard. But Jacques couldn’t help Jerard at this point. Maybe later, but not right now. In fact, his presence at such a sensitive juncture might hurt. Still, she called and he came. Just as she knew he would. This was the first moment she had time to really think about him.

  She could ignore it, fight it, pretend it wasn’t there and hope it would go away, but there was no point in denying the truth. There was only one reason why Jacques Meszaros sat in Nicolai Stavros’s gallery. Jacques was there for her and she wasn’t sure how to deal with that.

  At the first glimpse of his black python loafer on the top step, she’d panicked. Everything about Señor Meszaros Enterprises commanded deference, from the Italian shoes to the black couture clothing to the confident demeanor. His air of authority filled whatever space he occupied and she felt it occupy the studio as if it were a living being, separate and distinct from the man. She’d almost forgotten how powerfully she responded to that. The fire that had been embers since she’d last seen him flared at the mere sight of his shoes. As the rest of the man slowly descended the steps, her heart burst into flames.

  His face was passive, those sharp eyes absorbing and assessing every detail of the emerging scene as he approached. She steeled her nerves, fully expecting him to storm in and start barking orders, but he didn’t. For the moment, he seemed content to let her handle things on her own. She wanted to ask him why, but if you don’t want to wake the monster, you don’t poke him. Somehow knowing that Jacques put his faith in her gave her strength.

  Jerard’s weak voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Don’t abandon him.”

  He meant Jacques and she knew it, but pretended she didn’t. This wasn’t the time to get into that sad story. “I will never abandon you, Jerard.”

  Jerard shook his head. “Don’t abandon Jacques, Isla. He never lets anyone in. Not even me. He let you in, Isla. You’re the only one.” He was straining to keep his eyes on her face and have her hear what he was trying to tell her. “He hurt you, I can see it in your eyes. Find the courage to forgive, Isla.” A fresh wave of tears coated his face. “Don’t abandon him like I did.”

  “Oh, Jerard, Jacques understands what you’re going through. You didn’t abandon him.”

  The words only made Jerard more upset. “I let the dream die. Jacques never really believed, but I did. And then you came, but it was too late. I saw the color of your hair and I ran. I abandoned him.”

  Jerard was sobbing and she wanted to comfort him, but her mind was overwhelmed as the pieces started to fall together. The dream: a love affair with Jacques, Jerard and a woman with red hair. It seemed silly that hair color should be so important, but for some unexplained reason, it was.

  She remembered Jacques’s reaction when he saw her naked for the first time. The urgency in his voice when he asked her the real color of her hair. The awe in his eyes when she walked across the terrace to him after Andre removed the tint. The way he always stared and touched her hair as if it was a holy object. All of that was much more than a simple preference for redheads, but how much more?

  Before she could ask, another spasm tore through Jerard’s body and they both fell silent, breathing together. It was the worst yet. They were reaching the tipping point. Breathing wouldn’t get Jerard through for much longer. The time for talking was gone. She looked to Teo and as always, he came running. She didn’t have to say a word. He handed her a bottle of water and a pill. She placed the pill on Jerard’s tongue and held the bottle to his lips.

  “You should take a break. That’s going to put him under for a couple of hours,” Teo said in the elder brother voice that she was all too familiar with.

  “No. I’m okay. I want to stay with him through this.”

  She’d stayed with Teo too. The pill would knock Jerard out, keep him from running, but he would still feel the pain. She wrapped her arms around him and he shuddered in her embrace. Teo went back to his guitar.

  The exhaustion and the drug overtook Jerard quickly and he drifted into an uneasy sleep in her arms. She looked down at his pale face. Drawn, etched with suffering, but starkly determined. His strength was inspiring.

  If he has the courage to fight for the life he deserves, why can’t I?

  She thought of all those nights in the hospital. All those mornings when she struggled to set her feet on the floor and begin a new day. She wasn’t the same woman she’d been mere months ago. To survive, she learned to blot out the future and live for today. But somehow when it came to Jacques, she couldn’t stay in the moment. Her mind always drifted to places she couldn’t go. He called every day. She never called back.

  Until today.

  Jacques was back. She didn’t have to see him to know their connection to one another wasn’t about some kinky fling in Monaco. She wasn’t Jacques’s submissive; he wasn’t her Dom. Oh, if could only be that simple. She was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with man sitting in the gallery above her. She wanted a future with him, however long or short that might turn out to be, and she wouldn’t get it by sitting here. To reach him, all she had to do was climb those stairs. Twelve steps to a new life. The irony was not lost on her. She squared her shoulders and stood.

  If Jerard can do it, so can I.

  16

  One Cookie at a Time

  Footsteps on the stairs jolted Jacques to attention.

  Fucking finally.

  He blinked hard, his eyes burning from staring at the side of the plain white pedestal in front of him as the coil of his impatience wound tighter and tighter. Logic told him that Isabella was occupied with more important things. Like taking care of an addict in the throes of withdraw. But he did not enjoy waiting. For anyone. For any reason. If that made him a prick, so be it.

  His tired angel appeared at the top of the steps that led down to Nicolai’s studio. “What time is it?” she asked absently as her delicate hands wiped the loose wisps of hair from her forehead.

  Jacques got up off the floor, his ass aching from being planted in the same hard spot for hours, and looked at his watch. “Around two in the morning.”

  “He’s asleep.”

  And you should be too.

  Isabella looked exhausted, but very in control as she stepped toward him. He wasn’t sure how to deal with that. If she fell apart, admitted she was scared, turned to him for comfort or support, he would be in familiar territory. But she didn’t do any of those things. Only wrapped her arms around her body in a defensive move, shutting him out.

  Ouch.

  He craned his neck. It made a loud pop. There was so much to say. So much to apologize for, but he shoved away his urgency and focused on her. “You must be hungry. I had food delivered.” Seven hours ago. “Let me get you something to eat.”

  “I’m alright, Jacques.”

  He swallowed the reprimand and headed into Nicolai’s office to retrieve the food. Isabella moved to sit in the same spot on the floor he’d just vacated and he silently cursed his cousin for not having a decent chair in his gallery for her to rest in. He would have one hundred of those hideou
s, overstuffed barcalounger recliner things delivered in the morning. The more obnoxious the better. Mint green with pink polka dots if they made them. That would teach Nico a lesson on leaving his lady uncomfortable.

  When he returned, he set the platter down next to Isabella. She didn’t react, only kept her eyes fixed on the same white pedestal he’d become intimately familiar with while he waited for her to make an appearance. In essence, looking at nothing but whatever thoughts were swirling around inside her head. He picked up a sandwich and held it out to her. She accepted the food. No touching, but she didn’t throw it back in his face either. That was a good sign.

  “Did you eat?” She glanced at the platter. “Of course you didn’t. You would wait for me,” she muttered to herself. “Come, sit with me. Eat something.”

  He sat next to her on the floor keeping a short distance between the two of them. “You saved him, Isabella. I’m so grateful.”

  “Don’t thank me, Jacques,” she snapped, her own fear at what was happening to Jerard breaking free. “I’ve done what I can for him physically, but once we finish here, things get really hard. He’s a long way from being saved.”

  And that was the frightening truth. Even if Jerard made it through detox, he was a long way from a full recovery. No need to pick at that scab. “Thank you for asking Julianne to text me.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said, her head bobbing with determination. “You should be here. For him.”

  He’d planned to keep things light, but the beauty sitting just out of reach behind the invisible wall between them made him bulldoze right ahead. “I’m here for you too, Isabella. Anything you ask, I will do. Anything you need, I will give. Anything to undue the hurt I caused you. I’m so sorry, Isabella.”

  She stayed silent, her expression stricken. He reached for her and she turned her head away before he could touch her. “I hate what you did to me.”

  The disillusionment in the quite delivery of those words wounded. He closed his eyes briefly and withdrew his hand. “I hate it too.”

  “Then why the hell did you do it?” Anger flashed in her eyes now. Seeing it hurt less than the pain he’d seen a moment before.

  “I don’t have any excuses. I’m sorry, so damn sorry, Isabella.”

  She continued right on. No apologies would be accepted until she’d said her peace. “You hurt me, Jacques, and not just physically. I trusted you and you hurt me.”

  “I know.” His remorse didn’t allow him to say more so he took a bite of his sandwich.

  Isabella tore into hers, pulverizing the damn thing without mercy. Part of him was glad that his fiery angel had something to bite other than him. He opened a milk and slid the bottle next to her. She downed it and he opened another. After a few more bites, she calmed down. Another few and she took his hand.

  “I’m sorry too.”

  “You don’t owe me an apology, Isa…”

  Two delicate fingers came to his lips. “I do, Jacques. Hear me out, please. A lot has happened since I left Monaco.”

  “You mean the problem you told Sabin about?”

  “He told you?” She looked embarrassed.

  “Not really. All that damn cowboy would say was that you had something important to handle at home. Then he ordered me to let you handle it yourself or he would kick my ass.”

  It was damn near impossible for him not to get angry when people he cared for didn’t turn to him, but the sleepy, satisfied smile she gave him almost made him glad he hadn’t interfered. Not that Isabella would have let him anyway. Still, those who enjoy banging their heads against the wall don’t let things go and he was the king of all head bangers.

  “What did you have to handle, Isabella? Is there something I can help you with?”

  “I don’t want to share the details, but I’ve had time to think and there are a few things I have to say to you.”

  He grimaced. Shut out again. Delicately, but still shut the hell out. He could feel the rejection coming, just like he knew it would. He wanted to fall to his knees and beg her not to do it, but he wouldn’t take her pride. He sat perfectly still, waiting for the inevitable.

  “You pushed me away and that made what you did feel like violence. Cold hearted violence. I felt abused.”

  “Oh, God, Isabella, no,” he whispered.

  She held up her hand, unwilling to let him speak. “No one has ever hurt me like that and no one ever will again, Jacques. Do you hear me? I know what I agreed to, total control, but I can’t survive something like that again.”

  “You shouldn’t have had to survive it at all.” His shame burned in his gut.

  “But that doesn’t make what I did alright either. I used you and it was wrong.”

  Well he didn’t see it that way, but he had to hear her viewpoint before he could convince her that she was faultless.

  “I came to Monaco…” she started.

  “I brought you to Monaco,” he corrected.

  “I wanted to learn something about myself. I understand the woman I am better now, but…”

  “No buts, Isabella. You are perfect just the way you are.”

  “…what happened between us changed me, Jacques.”

  And that was his worst regret. She opened the most special part of herself to him and in return, he abused her. Now she would deny herself the happiness of living her life honestly. His legacy to her would be another denial. He couldn’t stand the thought.

  “No, damn it. Don’t deny yourself, Isabella. Don’t let what I did destroy your belief that you can be the woman you are and still find real love. I can never forgive myself, but…”

  “I forgive you, Jacques.”

  “…if I can help you see…what?”

  She leaned up, pushing onto her knees, and pressed her hands to his cheeks. “I said, ‘I forgive you.’”

  “Forgive?” He heard the word leave his lips, but his mind couldn’t register its meaning.

  “The moment you walked out of the study, I forgave you.”

  “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Isabella. Not after what I did.”

  She rolled her eyes and knocked her knuckles on his forehead. “Hey, jefe, get out of your own head and listen. I forgive you. You don’t get to dictate this one.”

  That was bold and with any other woman would call down the thunder, but with her…he felt his lips curl up.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her eyes widened a bit as if she was surprised, then lit with hope. “Can you forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  Her hope evaporated with a little furrow of her brow.

  Some Dom you are. Beat her and then stomp all over her emotional needs. “Alright, but what am I forgiving you for? Opening yourself to me in the most honest way. Trusting me. Giving me pleasure greater than any I’ve ever known. You’re too good for me, Isabella.”

  She pushed back, adamant eyes locking on. “Don’t make me out to be something I’m not, Jacques. I’m no angel.”

  The demand that she put all of the blame for what happened between them on him sat on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. There was more she needed to say.

  “What happened wasn’t only your fault. I am an adult and I take responsibility for what happens to me.”

  “No, Isabella. I abused the power you gave to me. In my world, that is unforgivable.”

  She shook her head so fiercely, her ponytail swung behind her. “Shouldn’t I decide what’s unforgivable? I may not be as experienced as you, but I understand that I held the real power over what happened. If I hadn’t said yes to you, none of it would have happened.”

  He wanted to say that was true, but he didn’t know and he wouldn’t lie to her. “I’m not entirely sure about that. You used your safe word. That should have ended everything. Full stop. I didn’t stop, Isabella.”

  “You didn’t force me either. Did you?”

  He didn’t answer, bereft of the words he needed to tell her how he felt, and she plowed a
head. “Then let me assure you. You didn’t. I am a strong woman, Jacques.” Her chin rose with her resolve to make him see things her way.

  “I know that, Isabella,” he said with a sigh. “But strong or not, there’s a monster in me. Don’t ever forget that. I don’t. The truth is that I’m not sure. Even if you had said no, would I have stopped?”

  When he tried to pull away, she wound herself around him. “Does it feel good to touch me again, Jacques?”

  His arms automatically locked around her, gathering her to him and pulling her close. She wrapped her arms around his back and buried her head against his chest. There. Right there. That was where she belonged. He sucked in the closeness and let his mind sink into the peace of holding her again. Felt her do the same.

  “More than I can express, Isabella.”

  “Do you want to let go?”

  “Never, never want to let go,” he muttered into her magnificent hair, inhaling the heavenly scent and running his open lips over her temple, her cheek. Holding on for dear life.

  “Get your hands off me, Jacques. Right now. Don’t touch me!” she screamed.

  His arms shot open and his body jerked backward until no part of them touched.

  She looked deep into his eyes. “You’re not a monster, Jacques. If I said no, you would have stopped.”

  He suddenly became aware of the distance between them. He hadn’t wanted to let go, let the emptiness back in and lose her all over again, but he wasn’t touching her. Not a single inch of her. His mind ignited with relief. If she said no, he would have stopped.

  He understood something else too. She wasn’t rejecting him.

  “I want to hold onto you forever, Isabella.” Although he said it, he wouldn’t touch her again until he was sure.

  “I want to hold onto you too, Jacques.” Before he could wrap around her again, she raised her arm, shaking her head vehemently. “But I’m not finished talking.”