Read Online Masterpiece (The Masters of The Order Book 1) by Jillian Verne - Free Book Online
Authors: Jillian Verne
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obvious at all.
The stone wall around the Colonel was beginning to frustrate him and he was not nice when he was frustrated. He fought the urge to take her over his knee. “I’d be happy to call and explain the importance of Saturday to your career. He does support your career, doesn’t he?”
She laughed him off. “He’s the one who started me painting. That’s when I met Jerard. By the way, what did you think of his work? Did you like it?”
No switching tracks, Julianne “Does the Colonel like Jerard?”
“I think so. I’ve known Jerard for a long time.”
“Is he gay too?”
“About that, sir. I apologize.”
“It’s alright, Julianne, but I’ll admit that I don’t understand why you asked me to do that. You’re an adult.”
Another strand of hair was pushed behind her ear.
“The Colonel is a little protective,” she murmured as she looked away.
Uh-huh, and the Eiffel Tower is a little French. “You must have a blockbuster social life it you’re not allowed out on Saturday night."
He was being sarcastic, but her harsh reaction said this was no joke. “There’s nothing wrong with respecting your father, sir."
He’d never heard harsh from Julianne.
Mon Dieu, an exquisite Parisian woman who isn’t allowed out on Saturday night. That's not protective, it's fanatical. “If you say so, Julianne.” She might accept what was familiar to her, but his tone made his opinion patently clear.
Fathomless violet eyes snapped back to his as she stood. “I will think about Saturday, sir.”
The clipped reply ended the conversation.
Saturday night came and went.
Without Julianne.
5
Undisciplined Hands
Why is this so hard?
Julianne smoothed her hands over her sheath as she climbed the stairs. It was hard to be assertive in such simple dress and bare feet, but she supposed that was the point. In this place, Nicolai was the top. She was the bottom.
But not today. Today, things are going to change.
She’d tried, really tried, to please Nicolai. But she hadn’t. No wonder given the boring image he seemed so damn fond of.
Art is about honesty. He of all people should know that. So why is Mr. Art-Lives-Inside-The-Soul so hell bent on having me lie?
Enough guessing. If Nicolai wouldn’t deviate from their grueling routine, she would force him. He had to start communicating. Simply had to. She had such high hopes for her time here. For him. She wanted...well, she wasn’t sure what, but she wanted it for herself. Nicolai could not take it from her. He could not destroy her dreams.
Not like he did.
Julianne shook her head to tamp down the dangerous emotion rising in her. No. Nicolai isn’t like him . Every cell in her body rejected the notion. Tears threatened, but she refused them.
Don’t you dare cry like a baby. Not in front of Nicolai.
Her legs felt like lead by the time she reached the top of the stairs. She knew what she had to do, but an almost crippling doubt curled in her gut as she stood outside of Nicolai’s office. It had only taken one time rushing in uninvited to teach her to wait. His look of disdain practically knocked her off her feet. She would never make that mistake again.
She listened to him on the phone vaguely annoyed that his conversation was prolonging her agony and wrung her hands to stop them from shaking.
Get a grip, Julianne. You chose this path. No retreat. No surrender.
After a few minutes, he hung up.
“At last,” she murmured.
Nicolai slipped the phone into his suit jacket and eased around the desk. He always dressed impeccably, like a model stepping out of a glossy magazine. His stunning crystal stare bore into her from across the room and she went weak in the knees. Add the lashes, so thick and black, and her mind never ceased to go to forbidden places. To say the man was a gift for the eyes was an understatement.
She reminded herself to be strong, but each step Nicolai took chipped away at her determination and ratcheted up the feeling that
The stone wall around the Colonel was beginning to frustrate him and he was not nice when he was frustrated. He fought the urge to take her over his knee. “I’d be happy to call and explain the importance of Saturday to your career. He does support your career, doesn’t he?”
She laughed him off. “He’s the one who started me painting. That’s when I met Jerard. By the way, what did you think of his work? Did you like it?”
No switching tracks, Julianne “Does the Colonel like Jerard?”
“I think so. I’ve known Jerard for a long time.”
“Is he gay too?”
“About that, sir. I apologize.”
“It’s alright, Julianne, but I’ll admit that I don’t understand why you asked me to do that. You’re an adult.”
Another strand of hair was pushed behind her ear.
“The Colonel is a little protective,” she murmured as she looked away.
Uh-huh, and the Eiffel Tower is a little French. “You must have a blockbuster social life it you’re not allowed out on Saturday night."
He was being sarcastic, but her harsh reaction said this was no joke. “There’s nothing wrong with respecting your father, sir."
He’d never heard harsh from Julianne.
Mon Dieu, an exquisite Parisian woman who isn’t allowed out on Saturday night. That's not protective, it's fanatical. “If you say so, Julianne.” She might accept what was familiar to her, but his tone made his opinion patently clear.
Fathomless violet eyes snapped back to his as she stood. “I will think about Saturday, sir.”
The clipped reply ended the conversation.
Saturday night came and went.
Without Julianne.
5
Undisciplined Hands
Why is this so hard?
Julianne smoothed her hands over her sheath as she climbed the stairs. It was hard to be assertive in such simple dress and bare feet, but she supposed that was the point. In this place, Nicolai was the top. She was the bottom.
But not today. Today, things are going to change.
She’d tried, really tried, to please Nicolai. But she hadn’t. No wonder given the boring image he seemed so damn fond of.
Art is about honesty. He of all people should know that. So why is Mr. Art-Lives-Inside-The-Soul so hell bent on having me lie?
Enough guessing. If Nicolai wouldn’t deviate from their grueling routine, she would force him. He had to start communicating. Simply had to. She had such high hopes for her time here. For him. She wanted...well, she wasn’t sure what, but she wanted it for herself. Nicolai could not take it from her. He could not destroy her dreams.
Not like he did.
Julianne shook her head to tamp down the dangerous emotion rising in her. No. Nicolai isn’t like him . Every cell in her body rejected the notion. Tears threatened, but she refused them.
Don’t you dare cry like a baby. Not in front of Nicolai.
Her legs felt like lead by the time she reached the top of the stairs. She knew what she had to do, but an almost crippling doubt curled in her gut as she stood outside of Nicolai’s office. It had only taken one time rushing in uninvited to teach her to wait. His look of disdain practically knocked her off her feet. She would never make that mistake again.
She listened to him on the phone vaguely annoyed that his conversation was prolonging her agony and wrung her hands to stop them from shaking.
Get a grip, Julianne. You chose this path. No retreat. No surrender.
After a few minutes, he hung up.
“At last,” she murmured.
Nicolai slipped the phone into his suit jacket and eased around the desk. He always dressed impeccably, like a model stepping out of a glossy magazine. His stunning crystal stare bore into her from across the room and she went weak in the knees. Add the lashes, so thick and black, and her mind never ceased to go to forbidden places. To say the man was a gift for the eyes was an understatement.
She reminded herself to be strong, but each step Nicolai took chipped away at her determination and ratcheted up the feeling that
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