Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two by Jillian Verne Page A

the...Stop it!
    “Isabella, wake up,” he barked.
    No, not Isabella. Isla. Isla. ‘We are just friends’ Isla .
    “ ¡Vete! ” She rolled over and pulled the pillow over her ears.
    What the...Did she just tell ME to go away? He had half a mind to spank that sumptuous bottom, feel her squirm against his erection until he slipped his fingers between her... Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!
    “Isla, wake up. Right now!” he roared.
    A mass of black hair appeared from under the pillow. Two pretty hands brushed it away to reveal the finest pair of bedroom eyes he had ever seen.
    “Who’s grumpy in the morning?” she cooed at him and he felt his lips curling up before he could stop them.
    “I am not grumpy. I don’t like people ignoring me.”
    My God, now he sounded like he was pouting. Earth to Jacques. Are you there, Jacques?
    “I have a lot on my agenda today and I don’t have time for games.”
    “Not even one itty-bitty little good morning kiss?” she said, rolling onto her back and stretching her body across the bed.
    Bye, bye, kitten. Hello, kitty . A mad rush of blood shot straight to his cock.
    “I brought you something.” He turned sharply and pointed to a rolling rack in the corner that was filled with dresses. Every single one was red. “Pick one for tonight. The tailor will be here in an hour for alterations.”
    ‘ No way we're just friends ’ Isabella padded across the room to the rack, stopping to peck a kiss on his cheek as she passed.
    “Why are they all red?” she asked in a husky, low morning voice.
    Actually, it was a sultry, sexy midnight voice. Is she doing that on purpose?
    She circled the rack letting her hand run over the sea of red and snared him with those bedroom eyes.
    Forget the wild hair, the legs, the lips, what will those eyes look like when I...
    “Red is my favorite color,” he grit out through ground teeth.
    What in the hell is wrong with me? Losing focus? This woman definitely has to go.
    “Which one do you want me to wear, Jacques?” she purred in that voice again.
    The husky sound only made him harder. She bit her cushy lower lip and forget the agenda, all he could think about was watching the traitor in his pants slide over that lip into the wet silk of her mouth as she stared up at him with those chocolate eyes.
    Okay, she definitely did that on purpose. Isabella lit his fire and now she was playing with it. If she wants to burn...
    He started toward her, then abruptly stopped. Turning toward the door without a backward glance, he spoke over his shoulder. “My favorite is the beaded one in the front, but it’s a very daring dress. Without confidence, a woman cannot be truly beautiful. Pick whichever you would feel most confident in. I’m sure you will be lovely in any of them. I’m tied up most of the day. Andre will be here at six to do your hair and make-up. My driver will pick you up at eight. Be ready.”
    Without another look, he jacked his chin high and marched out the door.
    *****
    As soon as the door slammed, Isabella flopped onto the bed in a fit of self-satisfied giggles. Her compassion for people allowed her read them fairly easily and she’d read Jacques Meszaros perfectly. Thirty-six hours and she knew he was a man who led with his head, but who wanted to follow his heart. He wanted, maybe even needed, the comfort of a woman to help him deal with the demands of his world, but he kept people at arm’s length. Even lovers and that word probably wasn’t appropriate for the type of relationships he had.
    She would never claim to understand what it felt like to walk in Jacques's shoes - they were very big shoes - but she was sure that someone in his position had learned to be callous to the users and the takers who surely sought him out. His circle of trust was very small. He mentioned a few men, but no women.
    If she only listened with her ears, she would have taken him up on his offer to stay in Monaco with no strings attached. But she didn’t only