Would it be ten weeks? Ten months? Ten years? Her future was uncertain. Jacques would never abandon her if she told him the truth. She knew that as surely as she knew her own name, but she had to take life one day at a time. Dr. Boucher said the first six months were critical. After that, the chance of a recurrence was slim. She had to wait, keep a little distance between them.
Just in case.
*****
“Please, Jacques. Just one hint.”
Isabella had been nagging him through the entire ride. With any other woman, he would have been mad, furious actually, but with Isabella…well, it was Isabella. He wanted to earn her trust, not presume it, and that took time. But seriously, enough with the inquisition.
He leaned over and kissed her, hard and thoroughly. His intent was to quell the verbal assault. The result was an immediate urge to give his woman anything her heart desired. Her effect on him, still a stunner, but c’est la vie. He sank deeper, loving the way she kissed. So restrained on the surface yet so passionate underneath. So full of fire.
Et vie avec Isabella est le paradis.
When he eased back, she kept her eyes closed, her breathing deep and even. Then the side of her mouth tipped up in a gentle curve and she opened one eye. “One itty-bitty hint. Please.”
He clenched his hands into fists to resist the urge to drag her across his lap and warm that beautiful backside with his palm. “Just sit back and enjoy the surprise.”
Her bottom lip thrust forward and she rolled her big brown eyes at him. “Oh, pooh, Jacques. I hate surprises.”
He loved the pout too, but she was pushing it. He looked her square in the eye and lowered his voice. “You’re new at this, Isabella, so I’ll be patient with you. To an extent.”
Her gaze dropped with a visible shiver. Oh, he love, love, loved that. His cock shot to attention and his surprise almost spilled out of his mouth. He clamped his lips together. Good lord, what she does to me. Years as a Dominant and his exquisite novice made him struggle not to cave to her every whim. But he’d waited a lifetime for this moment. No way he would spoil it. And he knew, despite her poohing, that Isabella adored surprises.
She managed a glorious silence for the remainder of the ride, but when the driver opened the door next to Darion’s G550, she started yammering again.
Literally.
There were syllables and a lot of inflection, but what was coming out of her mouth wasn’t language. It was a mixture of Spanish, French, English and utter shock. Still, he got the gist. And it was time to let her in on the first part of the surprise.
“We’re going to dinner at Arzak.”
“Mon Dieu, Jacques. Vamos a Barcelona. I can’t believe it.”
“You might want to pick a language before we land, Isabella,” he teased. “Any one will do.” He slipped his arm around her to escort her to the stairs. “My only worry is the length of the flight. An hour and a half doesn’t seem long enough.”
“For what?” she asked, breathless and blinking.
He ignored the question. “I suppose we can start on the flight there and finish on the way back,” he continued. “Don’t worry, angel, I’ve got everything on board to keep you strapped in, nice and tight.” He ran a hand over the curve of her backside and whispered, “Welcome to the Mile High Club.”
“Oh, Jacques.” She grinned the sexiest damn grin he’d ever seen cross a woman’s face and pressed her satin-clad bottom into his palm as she stepped up.
*****
“Who’s the kinky rock star now, darlin’?” Sabin drawled into Isabella’s ear as the waiters served their first course.
They were seated in the private dining room at Arzak, watching the world renowned owner, Juan Mari Arzak, prepare a feast of her favorite foods. Well, that explained why Patricia had cornered her in the ladies room earlier in the week. Odd to discuss food there, she’d thought, but Jacques must have put Patricia up to it and there was no denying Patricia when Jacques put her up to something.
Sneaky. Very sneaky.
Isabella returned her focus to Sabin, who was leering at her with those cornflower blue eyes. “What do you mean?”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You know I’m staying in Paris. So why wasn’t I on Darion’s jet with you and Jacques, hmmm?”
Heat ran across her skin thinking about the reason. The plane sat on the tarmac for an hour after landing while Jacques and she continued to enjoy the perks of private flight. A girl could get used to that. She looked across the table and the heat was replaced by a hint of embarrassment. Sabin wasn’t on the flight, nor were Nicolai or Julianne or Darion LeClair and he owned the damn jet.
“Really, Isabella. You’re joining the Order. You’ve got stop with the Catholic school girl routine.”
The Order. That was the reason for the party. Jacques brought her to Barcelona early to celebrate her with his closest friends and introduce her to Darion LeClair. The Darion LeClair. Wait until she told Craig. Darion was, in a word, the sexiest, most elegant, sophisticated, handsome, cultured, exotic, intimidating piece of male perfection she’d ever laid eyes on. Jacques was still her perfect man, but, Dios mío, Darion and Sabin and Nicolai were very close seconds.
Jacques made the request that she be admitted to the Order to Darion. On his knees. That kind of scared her, but Jacques said the Order followed strict protocols and this was one of them. Nicolai and Julianne grinned at her the entire time like she was the kitten under Jacques’s Christmas tree. And of course, Sabin winked at her. The guy really was a big, very big, little boy.
When the formal part was over, Jacques handed her a letter from Jerard. She tucked it into her handbag without reading a single word. She would need a bottle of wine and several boxes of tissues to get through Jerard’s words. Then came a deluge of hugs and kisses. That felt like home.
And now, back to flirting with Sabin. Catholic school girl routine? She’d show him a Catholic school girl routine. “Catholic school girls never kiss and tell.” Isabella ran her eyes over him and dropped her voice to sexy tease. “Can you imagine it, Sabin? I used to wear a white cotton blouse. They make them for boys so it always stretched so tight.” She put her elbows on the arm of his chair and leaned over to emphasize the obvious.
Sabin’s eyes landed precisely where expected and stayed there.
“And the tiny grey and red plaid skirt. One good breeze and the world got a peek at my panties…heavy sigh…when I remembered to wear them.”
“Sweet Jesus.” Sabin raised his hand and looked away. “Jacques, you are the luckiest bastard on the planet.”
“Don’t I know it,” Jacques answered in a proud voice.
Without taking her doe eyes off Sabin, Isabella called across the table. “I think we should let Sabin fly back to Paris with us, Jacques.” Then leaned in very close to Sabin’s ear and added, “If you bring your paddle, professor, I’ll bring my knee socks and stilettos.”
The look that flashed across Sabin’s eyes almost made her jump into Jacques’s lap. “Oh, sweet lady, you’re gonna fit in with us just fine.”
She cleared her throat and switched to a more serious, make that safer, topic. “I’m really honored that Jacques asked me to join the Order. And I’m sorry I disrespected the group with that comment about rock stars.”
“No need to apologize for the truth, Isabella. We know what we are, but the Order is more than that. We will take good care of you. I promise.”
She looked into those blue stunners and it hit her. The Order may be into power exchange and promiscuity, but this group had honor. All of them. Old fashioned, protective, love of women honor. It was a weird combination. Wonderful too. The kind of thing that made a woman like her feel cherished. Safe.
“You really care about me, don’t you, Sabin?”
“Of course I do, Isabella. We all do. Look at Jacques. Look at how happy you’ve made him. He loves you and because he does, I do too. Although, I probably would have fallen head over boots in love with you if I’d
met you first. You’re not only the prettiest little girl, you’re awesome. I really respect you. James and Jacques prattle on about your work for the Foundation endlessly. It’s not easy to impress men like that.”
Men like Jacques and James. How about men like you?
Jacques told her all about Sabin. The wicked intelligence, the personal crusade to save the world from oil despite the threat to his own safety, the innate savvy about people, all people from high to low, that made him successful in, well, everything. Isabella respected the hell out of him too and had a pretty good idea how to show it within the Order.
“Can I ask you for something?”
“Name it and it’s yours.”
She suddenly felt uncomfortable. “You said that before.”
“And I meant it. Ask,” Sabin said, shifting forward and staring directly into her eyes.
“Jacques and I, well, we kind of had a little separation after Monaco. He’s still beating himself up over what happened even though it wasn’t entirely his fault.”
Sabin raised a hand to cut her off. “It was entirely his fault, Isabella. Safe words are sacrosanct. I swear nothing like that will ever happen to you again.”
“He told you? The whole thing?”
“Damn right he did. We take our honor code very seriously. He paid his penance.”
Isabella remembered Jacques’s words about the Order punishing members who break the honor code. Dios mío, Sabin did that to Jacques. Because of me. She looked at Sabin with new eyes. What she saw now made her sit up straight. Sabin Timonen was a lot more than a flirt. Intelligent, fearless, honorable, commanding, he was a very powerful man. It radiated off him in waves. A trickle of fear, along with rush of sympathy for Jacques, crept in.
“What did you do to him?” she asked weakly, not really wanting to know.
“That’s between me and Jacques, but believe me when I tell you, he won’t abuse your trust again.”
She swallowed the desire to defend Jacques and got to the point. “I do trust Jacques, but I know it would make him feel better about, um, things so I would like to ask you to be the one to watch out for me.”
Sabin stood abruptly and dropped to one knee next to her. He put a hand over his heart and kissed the back of hers. “I would be honored, Isabella.” Then he threw his head back with a hearty laugh. “But woo-wee, mi chica caliente, I’m gonna have to step up my game to keep a little vixen like you out of trouble.”
The seriousness shattered and she couldn’t resist. “I promise to be a good little Catholic school girl, sir,” she cooed in her best coo for him.
Sabin turned to Jacques. “Brother, if you don’t say yes, I’m gonna explode.”
Jacques called across the table, “Go for it.”
She didn’t understand until Sabin’s hands grabbed her cheeks and drew her into a deep, dirty kiss. Like a double shot of tequila, his kiss burned. But when a man like Sabin Timonen kisses you, you kiss him back. Right there in front of your new friends, a service staff in the double digits and a group of the most famous chefs in Europe.
*****
Well, this is certainly different. I'm arm candy.
Arm candy as he strolled hand in hand with Isabella into the reception hall. He didn’t have much time to feel uncomfortable because a swarm of people enveloped them in a rush of kisses and hugs. Isabella beamed as she introduced him to her family. All one hundred and fifty of them. Cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews and of course, the brothers. Her four very big, very mean, very protective brothers.
Teo, he’d already had the pleasure, and the others weren’t much warmer. "Mis cariños," she called them. She had no idea how ironic that was. Talk about hazing the boyfriend. How did Isabella ever date with this bunch hovering menaces? No doubt what her sweeties would do if things with little sister’s arm candy ever got, well, sticky.
They'd come to Barcelona to attend a celebration for the fiftieth wedding anniversary of Isabella’s great aunt and uncle. The whole scene made him feel guilty.
Marriage.
Isabella never said the word. In fact, she never mentioned the future, but some things don’t have to be expressed to be true. He was looking at Isabella’s essence reflected in all those loving faces. Her family. Her heart. And the one thing a guy like him could never give.
About halfway through the evening, she disappeared with a smile and he hadn’t seen her in what felt like hours. He wandered onto the terrace to get a break from the love fest.
“You jackass!”
Jacques didn’t flinch, only raised his eyes to find six feet, three inches of seriously pissed off big brother storming across the stone with an accusing finger pointing at his head. Bulging eyes, red face, veins popping, Teo looked like a raging bull with a hard on for the matador. At least, the guy only wielded a finger and not a lance.
“Something on your mind, Teo?” Jacques offered in a calm voice. It wasn’t an act. He was calm. Teo may be able to pummel him into paste, but he didn’t fear physical pain and a single phone call could destroy Teo’s life if Teo gave him a reason. Jacques wouldn’t do that, it would hurt Isabella, but the alpha in him could imagine. “Not enjoying the party, I see,” he added with a decidedly mocking tone. Probably not the smartest move.
Teo erupted. “A collar! A fucking collar! The only reason you’re not dead right now is because for some fucked up reason, my baby sister thinks she’s in love with your ass.”
“So the big brother doesn’t like my gift. That’s an interesting twist.” Teo didn’t have to see the necklace he’d given to Isabella as anything more than an expensive trinket, but he did. He recognized its symbolism. Only one explanation for that perception. There was a lot more to Isabella’s favorite brother than she knew. “Stay out of it, Teo.”
“No can do, pendejo. No way.”
Jacques’s first instinct was to throw the meddling goon over the balustrade, but for Isabella’s sake, he would placate him instead. “You don’t like me, fine. The feeling’s mutual, but Isabella gave us both the same “get along” speech so let’s not push it. I know how to care for my woman.” Okay, the possessive bit was a jab.
Teo jabbed back. “How? With handcuffs and a whip? Seems you’ve got quite a reputation around town and it ain’t the hearts and flowers variety.”
That statement got Jacques’s attention, big time, but he knew better than to show it. He leaned over the railing and waved a dismissive hand through the air. “I’m a wealthy man. People talk, but mostly, they speculate. I doubt much of what you think you know is true.”
The ruse didn’t work. Teo railed on, “A broken heart loves a shoulder to cry on and you’ve broken more than your fair share, my friend.”
No missing the sarcasm in that moniker. Teo and he were anything but friends.
“And exactly where have you come across all these broken hearts?” His voice dismissed Teo’s accusation as if it was complete folly.
“The Dungeon.”
Jacques narrowed his eyes and glanced over at Teo. “I wonder what Isabella would say if she knew you hang out there.” Teo didn’t respond, but the look on his face spoke volumes and Jacques let Teo know it. “Looks like big brother has a few secrets of his own. Don’t worry, Teo. I won’t tell.”
“Oh, I’m sure you don’t tell Isla lot of things.”
“I’ve been honest with Isabella. She knows about my past.”
“Does she? Does she really?” Teo chided. “She has no clue what kind of shit guys like you and I get into and you know it.”
And that was the sorry truth. He’d given Isabella the general outline, but she didn’t ask for the specifics and he knew better than to fill in the blanks. Without the details, Isabella couldn’t begin to understand his past. The past that Teo was throwing back in his face.
“I wonder what my sister would say if she spoke to Tess. Does Isla sleep chained to floor next to you bed too? How about Josette? You treated her so fine. Have you asked Isla to crawl across the foyer at
the Opéra Bastille yet? Or maybe we should tell her about how Ann Marie entertained you at the World Cup. Neat trick, what you had her do every time there was a goal. Oh, and let’s not forget my personal favorite…”
“Stop.” Jacques raised his hand. Teo had done his homework. His threat was real. “You don’t have to chronicle my sins. I’m well aware of what I’ve done.”
Teo’s whole body jerked as if Jacques’s acknowledgment of the truth caused him physical pain. “If you do any of those things to my baby sister, I swear to God I’ll…” He ground his teeth. The rage was palpable, but he swallowed it and took aim instead. “How the hell can you think you’re worthy of a woman like Isla?”
Bulls eye.
“You think I don’t know that I’m not worthy of her? News flash, brother. I do. I so fucking do.”
“Then leave her alone, God damn it,” Teo roared.
“I can’t do that and more importantly, I don’t want to. I love her.”
“If you loved her, you’d get the hell away from her. How long do you think you can deny yourself before your needs take over? I’ve tried to do it. It’s impossible. We are what we are, Jacques, and we are bastards. Eventually, the need will take over and that’s not right for my baby sister.”
If Teo was a Dom, and one thousand percent for sure he was, he had to recognize Isabella’s sexuality, but as her brother, he clearly preferred to maintain his vanilla illusion about his sister, no matter how well he knew it was wrong. Isabella may be angry at him for this, but screw it. He was pissed. “Key word, ‘sister.’ You don’t want to see her. You don’t want to recognize her needs. You don’t want to know her, so you don’t.”
Teo closed his eyes and growled the words, “I know Isla better than you ever will.”
“Do you? Do you really? Because let me assure you, I do. Everything. In ways a brother never can.”
Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two Page 26