Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two (7 page)

Well that was rude, kind of nice that he cares, but still rude.

Her sex god was bossy with a capital “B.”

So of course, she ignored him.

*****

Jerard strolled onto the deck. His limbs were heavy. Everything was heavy. It was a bad night. A very bad night. He felt dirty, ashamed of his own depravity and completely worthless. He couldn’t maintain the illusion. Not without help. His newfound fame as Darion LeClair’s protégé opened doors.

Unexpected doors.

Dangerous doors.

Darion was a premier player in the art world. Everyone who was anyone knew of his illustrious reputation for having the Midas touch. Showing at one of his galleries virtually guaranteed instant fame and fortune, and Jerard’s experience with him was no exception.

His new life with Jacques and entering the Order bolstered him initially, but the insecurity was still there, lurking just beneath the surface. His need for reinforcement only increased as the spotlight of success grew brighter. It highlighted the imperfect image bred into the psyche of a neglected boy from a poor neighborhood. The one who wasn’t good enough for anybody to love.

Last night, he’d sworn he wouldn’t do it. He wanted to be there for his best friend, but he succumbed. Seeing Julianne and Nicolai’s love plastered everywhere in the gallery started the pity party. He should be happy for Julianne, but he couldn’t handle it. So he did what every best friend would do on such an important night. He went on a binge and ended up on someone’s floor, surrounded by naked people he didn’t know. He scurried away at dawn to seek the comfort of Jacques, only to disappoint the person he respected most in this world, like he always seemed to do.

Well done, asshole
, he cursed himself as he stepped next to Isabella.

“This is awkward,” she said as she sat up and fastened her bikini top.

“What?”

“Me.”

Actually, he thought she was pretty, not awkward at all.

“Being here.”

“Huh?”

“With Jacques.”

He was confused.

“
¡Maldita sea!
How often does Jacques pick up random women and bring them home?”

Duh
. The pretty lady on the chaise was getting angry. Very angry. So he piped up, “He never brings them home.”

Wrong answer
. She almost flew into a rage so he added, “Don’t feel awkward, Isabella. We’re all adults.”

She didn’t seem appeased and promptly fell into a beautiful pout.

“I’m teasing you, Isabella. You have no reason to be insecure. I mean look at you lying there hotter than the sun.”

“
Lo siento
,” she said flatly, obviously still a little peeved.

“Sorry about what? Being so gorgeous that Jacques couldn’t resist you. How did our world famous business tycoon lure you here anyway? Money, charm, his dashing good looks?” He smiled imploringly at her.

“I was drunk. Jacques kidnapped me.” She crossed her arms under her lovely breasts with a little huff. “I woke up on his boat.”

Jerard threw his head back and laughed out loud. “I love it. I’m sooo glad you told me that. I’m never going to let Jacques live this one down.”

He was still laughing when Isabella said, “Tell me about Jacques, Jerard.”

“You spent the night with him. Why don’t you tell me?”

“We didn’t fuck.”

He felt his eyes pop.

“Are you stunned because I used the word or because we didn’t?”

“A little of both. You’re not shy. Are you, Isabella?”

“No. I don’t have time to be shy and my friends call me Isla.”

But she clearly was.

Time to switch tracks
. “So, Isla, you live with Craig. He’s a good guy.”

“
Mierda
. I forgot to call him. House rule.”

Jerard tossed his phone onto her chaise and she grabbed it to dial Craig. He listened to the one-sided conversation.

“It’s not Jerard. It’s Isla. Don’t congratulate me. It’s not what you think.” She smiled at him with a blush. “I’m sorry. I got distracted...by the other guy at the gallery. Oh, never mind. Nothing happened, but I’m in Monaco.”

Jerard could hear Craig shouting on the other end of the phone as Isabella continued.

“No. It’s nothing like that. I wanted to come here. I decided to take a little vacation…really, I’m fine…I’m not sure, maybe in a week or so.”

There was a long silence. When she spoke again, her voice became so sad.

“Thanks, Craig. I’m glad you told me. I will. Yes, I will call every day. Yes, I promise. Yes…yes. Bye, daddy.”

Isabella hung up the phone and collapsed into a fit of tears. Jerard shot to her side as she huddled over, sobbing.

“My God, Isla. What happened?”

After a lot of snorting and snuffing, she answered, “
Monsieur
Mason died this morning.”

“Who is
Monsieur
Mason? A relative? A close friend?”

“No. I’m an oncology nurse and he is, uh, was one of my patients.”

“Do you always cry when a patient dies or was he someone special?”

“Yes and they’re all special.
Monsieur
Mason died and there was no one there with him. I’m so selfish, Jerard. People shouldn’t die alone.” She started sobbing louder. “I wasn’t there to hold his hand.”

Craig told him Isabella was an angel and he didn’t lie. This beautiful, flirty woman with the dirty mouth was spilling heartfelt tears all over him because she had that much empathy for a person she hardly knew.
Kind of puts things into perspective
.

“Hey, Isla, hey.” He cupped her face and looked her straight in the eye. “It’s not your responsibility to save everyone around you from their pain or loneliness. You came here to have fun with Jacques and that’s okay. Everyone deserves a little happiness.”

She only cried harder. “I don’t belong here, Jerard. I’m a big phony. I’m not rich or sophisticated like Jacques and you. I don’t belong in Monaco with a Dom.”

“Yeah, I know all about that feeling.”

“Why would you say that, Jerard? Look at you. You’re so cool and handsome. You would fit in anywhere.”

“I guess. So you know about Jacques. Is that why you guys didn’t, um, you know?”

She shook her head.

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Are you a sub?”

She scrubbed her hands over her tear-stained face. “That’s the second time I’ve been asked that today. Are you a Dom too?”

“Yes and no. You didn’t answer my question.”

“
Jesucristo
, are you guys all the same? Jacques said the same thing.”

He raised an eyebrow at her while his question lingered.

“Oh alright. The answer is yes and no.”

“Touché,” he said with a laugh.

And miraculously, she started laughing too.

“I know we don’t know each other very well,” she said, wiping the last of her tears, “but I could really use a hug.”

“I have an unlimited supply.” He opened his arms and she snuggled right in.

Beautiful, flirty, compassionate and a cuddler. Kind of a wonderful combination…
but not for someone like Jacques
. He loved the guy, owed him a ton, but Jerard was suddenly pissed.
How could Jacques bring someone like Isla here?
It wasn’t fair. Jacques wasn’t right for a woman like this. He didn’t hug or offer emotional comfort. His lover’s cried, but never on his shoulder.

“Yes and no,” he muttered. “What did you mean by that, Isla?”

“I meant that I’ve never let myself discover who I really am.”

“You’ve never been topped?”

“Topped?” She let out an embarrassed laugh. “No, I’ve never been topped.”

Okay, shit. That wasn’t the right answer
. Jacques would be mad, but what else was new. “Um, Isla. I know this is going to sound weird, I mean, I’m not judging you or anything, but you should go home.”

“What? I just got here.”

“Go home, Isla.”

“No. I don’t want to.” She pushed back to look into his eyes. “I know what I’m doing, Jerard.”

The determined furrow of her brow was adorable, but she didn’t know. Didn’t have a clue and those old protective instincts went soaring. “I don’t’ think you do, Isla.”

Her body went rigid and those beautiful brown eyes flashed with fire.

You really are an asshole, Gagne
, he thought as that fire instantly took him from wanting to play the protective big brother and to wanting to play. He shifted away from her while she spoke.

“For the first time in my life, I’m with a man who wants to know the real me. Jacques thinks I’m perfect, Jerard. Not fucked up. Do you know how good that feels? I’ve always been afraid of who I am. I’m not afraid when I’m with Jacques.”

He put a hand to her cheek.
God, she has beautiful skin too
. “I get it, Isla, trust me, I do. Jacques is a great man, but he’s hardcore. I’m not saying don’t explore your sexuality. All I’m saying is maybe you should start with someone a little less, well, extreme. On a scale of one to ten, Jacques is a twenty-five.”

“You’re not going to scare me, Jerard. I can take care of myself.” She pressed her cheek into his hand and then settled back against his chest, wiggling over to close the gap between them. She heard him. She wasn’t mad. And she wasn’t negotiating. “But thanks for caring.”

His hands mechanically began rubbing her back. She was smooth and warm. Holding her felt…
safe
. He eased back against the chaise and closed his eyes.

They lay in each other’s arms, baking in the sun and enjoying the comfortable silence until she asked, “Do you believe in angels, Jerard?”

“If you say that Jacques and I are angels, I’m taking you home myself,” he teased without opening his eyes.

“I believe in angels.”

“That’s a nice thought, Isla, but I don’t believe in anything.”

“Nothing in life is random, Jerard. I think Jacques came into my life for a reason.” She stroked her hand over his chest. “And now I think maybe you came into my life for a reason too.” She turned her cheek into him and kissed his pec. “Angels are everywhere. You just have to have the faith to see them.”

“Without boring you with the sob story, I’ll say this. Life made me a man when I was a boy and that doesn’t leave a guy with faith in much.”

He cringed, wondering what response Isla would hit him with. The analysis. The rejection. The pity. Her own sob story. He’d heard it all before. Why couldn’t they have just enjoyed the silence?

She picked up her head and smiled at him. “You can borrow some of mine if you want. I have an unlimited supply.” Then she snuggled in again and fell silent.

Out of nowhere, the thought came.
Can you save me, angel?

He felt his chest tighten.
No. She can’t save me
. He was far beyond believing in that kind of fairytale. Subtle tremors rolled through his body as silent tears began to fall.

*****

Jacques watched Isabella and Jerard lying in the sun. He was fuming.

I told her to put oil on her skin and she didn’t. How dare she disobey me?

No one disobeyed him. Everyone in his life did exactly what he told them to do or they were gone from it. But for some reason, he couldn’t stand the thought of this woman being gone from his life. He glared up at the sun. He would yank the damn thing out of the sky if it burned one inch of that creamy skin.

He couldn’t go outside. They were just talking, but he would be blind if he didn’t see the silent bond forming between Jerard and the lovely lady with the black hair.

Maybe she can help Jerard
. His hands scrubbed over his face.
And maybe she's right.

Keeping Jerard occupied gave him the opportunity to go discover something he didn’t want to discover. He turned from the window, forcing himself to a stand, and headed to Jerard’s room.

6

Sunburn

Isabella lay on the bed, shivering and sweating.

Why do I have to be so hardheaded?

She should have listened to Jacques instead of getting all huffy. So what if he was bossy. He only wanted her to use sunscreen. She didn’t and now she was burned.

Estúpido
. “Ouch!”

“Stop squirming.” Jacques pressed his palms along her spine at the small of her back before moving gentle pressure up and over her scorched shoulder blades.

“You don’t have to say it,” she groaned into the pillow.

“Say what?”

“I told you so. I didn’t listen and I’m burned.” She whimpered a little as his hand stroked over the inflamed skin.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m being as gentle as I can with the aloe.”

So incredibly gentle.
“What did you find in Jerard’s room?”

“It’s as bad as it gets, Isla.”

The weight in Jacques’s voice was instantly alarming. Before she could press him for more, he blew out a long sigh. “Would you mind if we don’t talk about it right now? It really knocked the wind out of me. I scheduled a call with the doctor at one tomorrow and to be perfectly honest, I need a break. Right now, I want to shut all the crap out and just enjoy the comfort of taking care of you.”

Jacques sounded defeated, but she knew perfectly well that he wouldn’t remain that way for long. People relied on him and men like Jacques Meszaros always stepped up. You didn’t have to know him intimately to know that. She wanted to know more about Jerard, but the idea that she could comfort someone like Jacques, that she could be a source for his strength…no way she would deny him.

She stretched her arms above her head, pointing her toes, and let those gentle hands work their magic in silence. Only soft breath and oiled skin in a quiet room. She felt the tension in Jacques begin to float away and that made her feel...
proud
.

After a while, those warm hands moved down the curve of her back, over her bottom, and began to massage oil into her thighs. The way Jacques touched her, the placement of his hands on her skin, made her painfully aware that his eyes followed their path. He was looking at her body while he massaged her.

She tensed. She liked her body. Well, most of it. Full boobs and a curvy bottom were all well and good, but curvy thighs, not so much.

“Don’t do that, Isabella. You’re beautiful. Everywhere.” Both palms pressed in between her legs to emphasize his meaning.

“You really are a mind reader, aren’t you?”

“Part of the job. Inhibitions get in the way. Your skin is soft here. So lovely and soft. Spread your legs for me.”

His fingers skimmed along the inside of her thighs to coax them farther apart and her pussy contracted so hard, she was sure Jacques could see it. For a long time, those hands squeezed and stroked, not just massaging, rather examining her.

Argh
.

Except his touch wasn’t saying,
Argh
. His touch said,
Ahh
. As in the sensual Ahh
.
As in the ‘
this is turning me on
’ Ahh. As in the ‘
I adore this body
’ Ahh.

She tried to relax. Her sex god had great hands, but seriously. Her thighs! Her legs moved together in little increments as she wiggled through the massage.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “Don’t think I don’t see you fighting me, Isabella. If you were mine, I would have more to say about defying my desires, but for now, let’s leave it at me telling you that I adore your body. All of it.”

His hand swatted her upper thigh just hard enough to make her say, “
Ahh
,” as in the ‘
I shouldn’t like that but I do
’ Ahh. As in the ‘
bite my bottom lip
’ Ahh. When Jacques pressed his thumbs into her calves and began working away the tension built up over miles of hospital hallway, the wind left her lungs on a loud "
Aaahhh
"

“You spend a lot of time on your feet, don't you?

“I don’t get much of a chance to sit down at work. It’s okay though. Seeing people who struggle to get out of bed makes it hard to complain about having to stand.”

“That’s a good perspective.”

She let out a little giggle, “I wear old lady shoes at work. Craig says I look like a grandma in them.”

“Give me those pretty feet, grandma. Let’s see if I can make them feel young again.”

Ahh. Ahh. Ahh!

Jacques settled himself at the end of the bed for what she hoped would be an endless session on her feet. The man did not disappoint. All she could do was mewl into the pillow and try not to drool. She’d never felt anything so fantastic in her entire life.

She was generally pretty good at reading people, but she had never met a man like Jacques Meszaros and the pieces didn’t fit together in her mind. He had power. Tangible power. Meet those piercing eyes and you might cower or just flat out run away. Listen to that demanding voice and your spine snapped straighter. Watch the reaction of people to his name alone and you couldn’t help feeling respect. And on top of the company and the foundation and the fortune, he was a Dom too? Jerard labeled him hardcore.

How can someone like that be so tender? How can he take so much pleasure in such a basic form of caring?

Jacques shifted back to her side and took a sip of his drink. He was practically purring.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” His voice was relaxed, hypnotic, as those oiled hands slipped over her back again.

“Do you like pain or, I mean, hurting women? Jeez, that sounds so weird when you say it out loud.”

Jacques laughed a little.

“What’s so funny?”

“Did the woman who almost made me blush this morning just say, ‘jeez?’ You have a potty mouth...don’t get me wrong, Isabella, the mouth is great...but the contradictions in you boggle the mind.”

“Family flaw. My brothers like to curse. I try not to, but I fail. A lot,” she mumbled into the pillow.

A piece of ice stroked over her shoulders.

“Yikes! Did I mention my four very big, very mean, very protective brothers who I am going to sic on you if you don’t stop torturing me?”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said and continued right on stroking the ice over her skin. “I’m not going to lie to you, Isabella. Never will. I despise liars. So to answer your question, yes. Sometimes I enjoy things that can be painful for my lovers.”

That answer should have sent her screaming into the night. But it didn’t. It made her want.

Not normal, Isla
. “Okay, but since you brought up contradictions, I’m wondering how that fits with your comment about enjoying the comfort of taking care of me. I don’t see a connection there.”

“Some women need a man like me. My role requires me to take care of them. In the most intimate way. In return, I get what I need.”

“And that is what?”

“Control, Isabella. For me, it all boils down to control. I need it like I need air. Giving me control, allowing me to do the things I enjoy, requires trust. I earn trust by understanding needs and wants, and satisfying them. I test limits and push hard, but never too hard. If I’m unsure, I stop. For the most part, it’s about pleasure even when pain is involved, but for me, it’s always about control.”

For the most part. What about the other part?

“It’s never about truly hurting someone, Isabella. I hate to see you suffering like this. If I could take this pain from you, I would. Stated simply, I’m hard wired to take care of people I care about.”

You care about me, Jacques?
“I can understand that. I am too,” she said.

“People use the word compassionate for someone like you. For someone like me, they might choose a different word,” he said softly, “but in a certain way, I suppose we’re not so different.”

A different word. What word?
“Pain isn’t always about pleasure for you, is it, Jacques?

“I didn’t say it was. Punishment is painful for both parties involved.”

“But you still do it to women you care about?”

“When necessary, I do, but recently, no. I haven’t been with a woman that I cared enough about to pursue a longer term relationship, so it hasn’t gotten to that in a while.”

Okay, that almost sent her screaming into the night.

“Is that the only way it works, Jacques? A woman has to give up control to be with someone like you?”

“Yes, Isabella. That’s the only way it works. How does this feel?”

“Better actually, but I’m cold.”

*****

Jacques pulled the comforter over Isabella’s legs even though he didn’t want to. She had shapely legs and a luscious round bottom. One that he’d memorized. He’d kept his eyes focused below her waist while they talked to avoid looking at her sunburnt back. The red skin only made him want to peel off that bikini bottom and spank her backside for disobeying him.

And he would be a liar if he didn’t admit that even without the sunburn, he wanted to bare that sexy ass to his hand. Even before she opened her mouth, Isabella Rey turned him on. Her body was beautiful, all smooth skin and feminine curves. But she did open that sumptuous mouth and they weren’t exactly talking about the weather.

He was hard as a rock.

Given her chosen profession, he knew she had a strong character, but he was a little surprised at how boldly she talked to him about Dom/sub sex. She was genuinely curious and obviously trying to figure out how what he was saying fit into her world, but she wouldn’t have done that if she truly understood.

Most women approached him very warily, if at all, especially those who knew the game. He was an extreme lover even among the extreme. Jacques Meszaros, the Dom, earned his reputation and he wasn’t known for love or compassion.

Isabella clearly sensed the hardness in him, but acted like he was as harmless as a pussycat. She actually talked to him as if he was a normal person, not a CEO or a badass Dom. That was wildly counter to his usual experiences with people and it felt nice. Warm.

Her voice interrupted his thoughts. “And if you and I were to say, um...”

“Yes, Isabella. You would give yourself to me and in exchange, I would take care of you. Your job would be to let go and trust me to take care of everything. But surrender is not as easy as it sounds, my fiery angel, so mine would be to help you. In any way that I see fit.”

“Any what do you get out of,” she cleared her throat, “helping me?”

“I get everything.” A stab of want shot through him just saying the words.

“Okay, so let me get this straight. Jacques takes care of his lovers and Jacques takes care of Jerard and Jacques takes care of thousands of employees and Jacques takes care of strangers he hasn’t even met. But tell me this.” She eased onto her elbows to look at him over her shoulder and asked, “Who takes care of Jacques?”

“I take care of myself.”

She rolled onto her side and looked up at him, completely at ease exposing her body to him. That was truly sexy. He respected confidence and pretty Isabella certainly had it.

“Well that doesn’t seem fair. I sort of get it in the bedroom or wherever you do what you do, Jacques, but in the end, you’re still a man with emotions and needs, and they can’t all be kinky.”

“My turn to ask a question. Are we negotiating?”

“What?”

He dropped his voice to a more seductive tenor. “You heard me, Isabella. You know what I am. You’ve only had a few lovers, whom I will surmise did not make your toes curl, and you admit to submissive fantasies.” He let his eyes trail over her bare skin as his knuckle stroked lightly along the side of her breast. “Are we negotiating about how it would be if you and I were lovers?”

Isabella swallowed hard.

A wave of guilt crashed over him.
Why am I doing this? It isn’t fair
.

Sweet Isabella had no idea what she would be in for if they were lovers. And he really shouldn’t even use that word. A woman like Isabella would misinterpret it. He didn’t make love. He fucked. His affairs were perverse and carried out by his rules. A compassionate woman like this needed nurturing as much as she needed to nurture. He may “take care” of his partners, but nurture them, he did not. Love them, he did not.

“Alright, Isla. Let me answer for you. You’re a good person. Very special. You may want a little dominance, probably because some guy got you off with a little taste of it at some point in your life, but that does not mean you should get mixed up with a man like me. You may think you want what I’m talking about, but you don’t. You can stay here with me and take a break from your world for a while, but you don’t have to be my lover to do that. I’m enjoying your company and it would make me happy just to see you enjoy yourself. No strings attached.”

She stared as silence filled the space between them, then that pretty hand curled into a fist and pounded down on the mattress. “
Maldita sea
, Jacques. That’s not what you were supposed to say.”