Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two (40 page)

BOOK: Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two
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“Yes, Jacques. I found my prince and I found something else too.” Isabella looked at the man standing in front of her as sparkles filled her eyes. “I found hope.”

One word changes everything.

And that word is hope.

 

 

The End

 

 

 

 

Thank you for reading
Paradise
. I hope you enjoyed the romance! If you did, please take a moment to leave a review at your favorite retailer. A few kind words can work wonders and I am forever grateful for yours.
Jillian

 

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Speaking of what's next…

 

Do you think Sabin is hot? Want to know if the Order's sexy cowboy finds love?

 

Turn the page to read an excerpt from
Godsend
, the third novel in The Masters of The Order Series by Jillian Verne.

 

Welcome back to The Order.

 

Hotter than the hinges on the gates of hell…

 

Sabin Timonen is a sexy cocktail of southern grace, Texas cowboy and good old fashioned honor. He's out to save the planet and nearly every lost soul on it. Somebody has to fight the good fight. Somebody has to stand up. And his mama raised him to be one of those somebodies. But behind the swagger lies a solitary man who lusts for revenge.

 

Alessandra Girardi is a hellcat. A tough girl from South Philadelphia, a hot shot NYC attorney and repressed with a capital “R.” That combination spells “challenge” for our playboy, but when Alessandra gets caught in the crossfire with Sabin’s nemesis, Sabin’s intentions turn deathly serious.

 

Sabin lost his soul years ago. Someone took Alessandra's. Sabin wants to save Alessandra, become her godsend, but will the headstrong Alessandra let him? Will Sabin’s powerful enemies take them both down or will the man who fashions himself everybody’s savior let Alessandra save him?

Excerpt from
Godsend

1. The Clash of the Titans

The Blue Danube Waltz.
Can anyone else hear that?

 

Da, da, da, da, da.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Da, da, da, da, da.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Da, da, da, da
, thump.

Da, da
, thump.

Da, da
, thump.
Da
, thump.
Da
, thump.

Da, da
, thump!

 

The headboard hit the wall in perfect time.

Strauss would be proud.

Alessandra supposed that’s the way it went in the lives of two Wall Street attorneys. Sex every Tuesday and Saturday, unless the firm needed one of them to work. Then there would be a negotiated reschedule. Wouldn’t want to neglect the relationship, now would we?

But seriously, is it too much to ask for a little Trent Reznor every once in a while?

“Doll, you’re incredible,” Kellan said and flopped onto his back.

Suppose so.

Once, after way too much wine, she suggested that a little D/s play might be a turn on and this is what she got: the pet name “Doll.” As if she meant she wanted to be treated like an object.

Boy, did Kellan miss the mark on that one
. “You too, hon.”

After just the right amount of time to come down from another fake orgasm, Alessandra rolled to the bed table and grabbed her laptop. At least her career was going well.

Kellen stood and grabbed his robe. “So, tomorrow’s the big day. First case as the lead associate. Nervous, counselor?”

Her fingers started clicking away.

If by nervous you mean do I feel like a bowl of Jell-O? - watch it wiggle, see it jiggle - then yes
. “No.”

Two thick arms boxed her against the headboard and Kellan leaned right into her space. “Liar.”

Okay, that’s kind of sexy.

“Talk to me, Alex.”

She gave him a shrug and a half-answer. “Usually I’m not, you know. I always feel like I’ve got it, but something about tomorrow is throwing me off my game.”

Like she didn’t know what that something, or someone, was.

So not sharing that with the boyfriend.

“You’ve worked really hard, Alex. You’re ready. Don’t let a bunch of machismo Texans intimidate you. You’re a great litigator. They don’t stand a chance.”

Kellan flashed his signature smile. The one that said,
Trust me, I’m the good guy
.

A really good guy. Good friend, good lawyer, good neighbor, good everything.

And so completely boring.

Oh hell. Now she felt guilty, an altogether way-too-common feeling for her Italian Catholic psyche. Most women would die for chance with a guy like Kellan even if he didn’t tear it up between the sheets. Intelligent, dedicated, hardworking. Very hardworking. Couldn’t be anything but to have graduated top of the class from Harvard Law, law review assistant editor to boot, than land a position at BB&D,
the
law firm in New York City. Even she didn’t get a job offer from them.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Finish up. I’ll get the ice cream and pretzels. Then we’ll watch the Rangers kick your pansy team’s ass. I DVR’d the game.” He ran his hand over the top of her head, mussing her hair.

“In your dreams, buddy. The Flyers are taking the Blue Shirts down,” she said, laughing, as the warm thing they shared filled the space between them.

Sex wasn’t everything. What she and Kellan had was good. They were simpatico. Both quirky and ambitious with a passion for hockey and coffee ice cream with pretzels. Kellan supported her career and let’s face it. She didn’t have a whole lot of free time. Their Tuesday/Saturday thing worked even if it didn’t make her see God and the guy only had one other flaw: As a native New Yorker, his taste in hockey teams sucked.

The Rangers, man, I hate those guys.
“I’m really glad I have you, Kellan.”

He leaned over and kissed the crest of her forehead. “Couldn’t make it without you either, Doll,” he said and left her to her work.

Alessandra opened the case file on her computer and looked at the picture on the screen. Now
that
was a smile. Sabin Timonen’s smile screamed,
Trust me, I’m the bad guy
.

It would be too easy to be seduced by a smile like that, but she knew better. Sabin may be one good-looking cowboy, but he was a thief. Stealing another scientist’s research, that was low. And illegal. The guy was obviously as cocky as they come, but he was the enemy and he was going down.

“Your ass is grass, Mr. Sabin Timonen, and tomorrow, you meet the lawnmower.”

So uncool, Alex
. She cringed at herself.

Closing the picture, Alessandra opened her notes and dug in.

*****

“You know you’re welcome to join us,” Aeron invited, his voice thick with arousal.

“Yes, come play, Sabin,” Lily added without taking her eyes off Aeron.

Sabin walked to the bed, taking Lily’s hand as he sat. Without moving his lips away from her torso, Aeron raised an arm to rest his hand on Sabin’s knee as Sabin’s eyes followed the feather trail of Aeron’s kisses. Around her navel. Along her ribs. Beneath her small breasts. Lily twisted her delicate wrist in the cuff holding her arm down and, with a pleasured moan, squeezed Sabin’s hand.

She’d come so far since being sent to live with him. Lily belonged to the Order just like he and Aeron did, and the Order took care of its own. Consensual power exchange, yes; abuse, absolutely no. Sabin had been charged with protecting Lily from an abusive lover she didn’t have the strength to leave on her own. Six months ago, she arrived at his ranch, a broken flower, unable to look him in the eye or refer to herself in the first person. Now, under his care, she’d regained her peace, even naked and bound in the presence of two dominant men. Her trust was an honor and he was grateful for this brief moment to savor it.

Leaning in to kiss the crest of Lily’s forehead, Sabin whispered, “Have fun, love birds,” and stood to leave.

Neither love bird replied. Aeron’s lips had slipped lower, rendering them both mute.

He chuckled to himself as he shut the door.

They made a beautiful couple. Another beautiful couple. Another pair of lovers who found their home in each other’s embrace. Another bitter reminder of what he lacked in his life.

But he’d chosen his solitary path.

Sabin poured himself a bourbon and stared down at the headlights moving along Park Avenue. He didn’t mind New York City, but he didn’t like it much either. Despite all the time he spent in the Big Apple, it wasn’t home. He was a Texan, born and raised, and you may take the cowboy out of Texas, but you never take Texas out of the cowboy. He took a sip of his drink, alone with his thoughts.

Did he want to fall in love? Sure. Didn’t everybody? But what was love anyway? It wasn’t as simple as sex. As a leader in the Order, he of all people knew that. No, there was something more to it. The hand of fate, Cupid’s arrow, thunderbolts, call it what you will, love is beyond human control. He’d seen the lives of his brothers upended in an instant by it.

Would that happen to him? Maybe. Someday. But not today. What fueled him today was revenge. The heat of the whiskey burned as he held it on his tongue.

Sweet revenge.

Sabin spoke into the silence, “No one hurts the ones I love. I swear to you, Lily, Blake Hartnell will rue the day that he hurt you to get to me.”

*****

“You look hot.” Kyle took one look at her face and backtracked. “I mean intimidating, very professional. No messing with a woman like you, Alex. Is that a new suit?” he asked with a sheepish grin.

“It is,” Alessandra grumbled, feeling suddenly unsure about the black Armani number she was sporting. The suit was conservative enough, but it was tailored. Very tailored.

For today’s meet and greet, she wanted to look confident and edgy. Every guy in the room would know she was a girl anyway. To her mind, the boxy uniform most of the other lady lawyers wore in the office only made them look insecure. But maybe she should have foregone the spike toe Louboutin pumps.

“I put copies of all the docs in the conference room. Coffee and cookies arrive at nine-thirty and heads up. The Hartnells are in Simmons’s office. Guess they decided to show up early. Anything else you need?”

“No. Thanks, Kyle.”

Her paralegal gave her a mock salute and left her office.

Uh-huh. Definitely should have canned the shoes.

The Hartnells are here?
This morning was only supposed to be a dry run to review technical testimony before the main event later this afternoon.

Alessandra hit the intercom on her desk. “Maria, can you come in for a sec.”

As soon as her secretary stepped into her office, Maria’s face lit up. “Wow, girl, you look fierce. Gonna kick some boy butt with that ensemble.”

“Can I borrow your scarf?” Alessandra asked, feeling less confident than ever.

“Crap, Alex. Don’t go there. You look great, very powerful. This is no time to let the sexism in this place hold you back. God gave you brains and beauty, and He didn’t do that so you could hide in the corner. You’ve got it, flaunt it.”

Maria always knew the right button to push. Female attorneys were few and far between in the New York office of Snider & Simmons. There were none in the main office in Dallas. Guess the good ole boys missed women’s lib, but they paid well. Really well. As a premier litigation firm, a stint with them was a great launch for her career and the firm’s pool of female support staff was hell-bent on seeing a sister succeed so Alessandra could deal.

And it wasn’t as if the firm’s environment was holding her back. In fact, they had handed her the career opportunity of a lifetime. Only four years of practice and she was the lead associate in her first major case, Hartnell v. Timonen. Talk about a clash of the Titans. Joe Lee Hartnell, the CEO of JLH Oil Company, was suing Sabin Timonen, the CEO of World Energy Corporation, claiming that World Energy had stolen a critical component of JLH’s groundbreaking intellectual property. Timonen denied the claim, of course, but whatever the outcome, the subject of this case promised to revolutionize the American oil industry. And cement her reputation as a top flight attorney.

I'll show those good ole boys what a Yankee girl from Philadelphia can do.

Still, what she was walking into was a little more than intimidating. Buddy Rae Simmons, as in the eponymous Simmons, had chosen her personally and the top dog made no bones about the importance of the Hartnells to the firm’s finances. He also laid out his expectations, his very high expectations, of her performance today. Losing this case was NOT an option and if anything went wrong, her career was on the line.

Woof!

Alessandra shook off the last of her insecurities and put on her battle face. She had this one. After countless hours spent toiling over piles of technical data and several mind-boggling sessions with her team of experts, she was ready. She squared her shoulders and headed into the conference room.

“There’s our killer, looking very nice, I might add,” Buddy Rae said with a not-so-subtle scan of her chest.

Ew. Should have taken that scarf. What makes men think women enjoy that kind of look?

Lewd attitude aside, the chance to work side by side with such an esteemed attorney was a hard-earned honor. Buddy Rae must have confidence in her talent to have chosen her for such a critical role so she smiled begrudgingly at his compliment.

Alessandra scanned the room taking in the details. She couldn’t help it; it was automatic. Growing up in South Philly with a cop as a father taught her to be aware of her surroundings. Always. She was never relaxed in a room full of men even though that was her normal most days.

Men were unpredictable and far too often, dangerous. Sometimes she wished she could be naïve like most of the women she knew, but her father never sheltered her from the harsher realities of the world he lived in. “Never trust a man, Alex. Vigilance is your best defense,” he always said. So vigilant she was. As far as trusting men, she didn’t. Hadn’t since she was sixteen. But this wasn’t the time to take that trip down memory lane.

She looked down the table to her clients, the ones who weren’t supposed to arrive for another five hours. Joe Lee Hartnell sat at the end, in the power seat of course. His son, Blake, sat to his left.

A woman didn’t have to share Alessandra’s world view to have the hair on the back of her neck stand on end in Joe Lee’s presence. He may be all smiles and southern charm, but the man was dangerous in the worst way, the kind of man who believed any means justified his ends. She may be his lawyer, but she would never, ever, allow herself to be caught alone with the likes of him. Rich, powerful and constantly surrounded by a posse of sycophants, his sense of entitlement radiated off him in waves.

In a word, the man was ugly.

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