Protege (8 page)

Her fingers slowly slid into his palm and his grip closed over hers. This was it.

His grasp tightened, reassurance given with a slight squeeze as he helped her to her feet. He smiled. “Good girl.”

Jude's stomach knotted as he steered the Mercedes onto the drive of the château. Memories of his last days at his country home surfaced, stinging like a scab ripped open just on the brink of healing. He blanked his expression and carefully rode over the stone bridge. Hopefully his new guest would replace some of those less savory memories.

The garden beds had been recently cleaned and the hedges neatly shaped. If anything, Château Fernweh was lush in its endless landscapes and hidden gardens. Hopefully it would be an early spring and Collette would have a chance to see the grounds in their full, radiant beauty.

Pulling around the center fountain, contained by low trimmed boxwoods, he put the car in park and gripped the wheel. He could just as easily have taken her to his condo in the city, but this wasn't about his personal comforts. It was about providing an experience that would help her better assess her deepest desires. He needed to keep reminding himself of that.

To be a true dominant male is to always put her needs before your own.

This was where she deserved to be. The other members would enlighten her as well, provide a picture of everything Fernweh could offer. While the château was the largest and oldest structure in the area, the centerfold that anchored the community they had built in the dated village, it had been a long time since it boasted the love that some of the smaller homes held.

He glanced to his right, where Collette slept soundly. It was probably best that she'd passed out for the last two hours of the journey. They were very particular about disclosing the exact location of Fernweh, and this made the confidentiality easier. For all she knew, they could be in the belly of a foreign city the way she slept.

He grinned and lifted a coiled curl from her cheek. He never saw so much unruly hair on a woman. There seemed no rhyme or reason to it. “We're here, Collette.” When she didn't move, he smirked. “Ms. Banks, it's time to wake up.” He nudged her and she grumbled, shoving his touch away.

Really?

Very well. Climbing out of the car, he rounded the front and opened her door. On second thought, he went to the double entry of the château and tried the lock. Like magic, the old hardware twisted and gave way. He could smell the cleaning products Lea and the other girls must have used. He'd be sure to send a gift of appreciation for all their hard work.

Turning back to the car, he appraised his snoring beauty. She was a little thing, no more than five foot two, but she had an ass on her, the kind a guy could hold on to. She was curvy but compact, a whole lot of woman hiding behind couture garments and southern propriety. His mind dwelled on images of her thick hips wrapped around his waste. Thinking back to his early twenties and how eager he'd been to show off his virility, he rolled his eyes. Thirty-four and he was solving physics equations to guesstimate if he could carry a woman to his bed.

“Get a grip, Duval,” he mumbled, and moved to collect his sub.

Being that he required her to exercise daily, he'd have a fair chance of redefining his lost physique. The château had a noteworthy gym from what he recalled.

After he undid her seat belt, his arms slid beneath her body and he carefully pulled her from the car. She stirred but didn't wake. Un-freaking-believable. He carried her over the threshold and was glad the curtains had been drawn back, letting some of the late-afternoon light inside. The sun would be setting soon and he'd need to go around hitting all the lights, one of the issues with such a vast, old house—there were never enough switches and they were all in weird places.

He carried her to the den, mentally promising he'd be getting in shape soon. Though he wasn't carrying around any extra weight, his muscle mass was a joke compared to what it used to be. If Ezra caught sight of his body he'd never hear the end of it. He'd start tonight.

As he laid her on the sofa, he again brushed her curls from her face. “Collette.”

She stretched, then stilled, opening her eyes with a disoriented sort of panic banked in the depths. “I fell asleep.”

“I'd call it a coma, but yes. How do you feel?”

“Better.” She shifted without issue. Eleanor, their resident doctor, had told him she'd be fine in a few hours, but he was glad to see her well for himself. “What is this place?”

He turned, trying to see past his ugly memories and recognize the beauty that had once enchanted him to buy the old mansion. “This is Château Fernweh.”

“This is Fernweh?” Her eyes widened as she glanced around. Tall marble pillars marked the entry, leading to a grand spiraling staircase. “Is anyone else here?”

“No. This is my private home. The others live in the village. Fernweh—the village—is a gated community with a population just under one hundred, but we could fit much more than that. We covet our space at Fernweh.”

“I never imagined anything this . . . picturesque. It's stunning.”

“It's getting late, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow for the full tour. I'll show you around and introduce you to some of our neighbors. You already met Ezra.”

“Ezra lives here?”

“Yes, he and his wife, and several of our founding families. There are other Fernweh societies cropping up around the globe, one in Arizona, another in Canada, one in Scotland. This is the original and the oldest, though.”

“You do business with Scotland?”

He grinned. “We do business with everyone. Why do you think we ask so many questions about your preferred climate? Depending on your answers, Ms. Banks, you could wind up married to your soul mate all the way in Greece.”

She snorted, as if finding such a possibility laughable. She'd see, once she met some of the others and realized how far they traveled for the life they desired and the perfect partner.

“I highly doubt my life will land me anywhere exotic. I'm just a simple southern girl.”

He grunted. “Let's get you out of these clothes and into something more appropriate.”

She looked around. “Where's my bag?”

“You don't need it.” He helped her stand. “When I said get you into something more appropriate, I meant my bed. Welcome to Fernweh, Ms. Banks. Your preparation starts now.” He pulled her hand and she pulled back, not moving an inch. “Collette?”

“I . . . need a minute.”

“All right. Tell me what's going through your mind.”

Her breathing went from natural to labored in a split second. “I just can't believe I'm doing this.” Her head shook and she exhaled harshly. “I don't even know you.”

Keeping his expression as nonthreatening as possible, he softly said, “You'll get to know me.”

Her hand pressed to her chest. “Sweet baby Jesus, my heart's racing so fast it feels like it's going to burst out of my chest.”

He frowned and squatted low in front of her. When he took her other hand, he found it clammy and ice cold. “Do you have anxiety attacks?”

“No, just anxiety.” She laughed, but he wasn't amused.

Unfolding her fist, he flattened her palm to his chest. “Breathe with me, Collette. In. Out. In. Good.”

As her fretfulness seemed to settle, he sat beside her and explained, “I want to make something perfectly clear here, Collette. I'm not, nor have I ever been, the type of man to take something not offered. I don't want you to be afraid to use your safe word. You use that word whenever you need a moment; it doesn't automatically end things. It's like pulling the brake. We stop, assess, regroup, and decide what, if anything, needs to change. Sometimes we just need a moment to catch our breath.”

“I know that. This didn't really feel like a
penguin
moment, though.”

He tried not to laugh at her adorable choice of safe word. “Then explain to me why you hesitated.”

“We're going to have sex. We are, right?”

He nodded.

“That's a really big deal to me usually. I mean, I've only been with a handful of men and each one put his time in.”

He grinned. “I bet they did.” Tucking her hair behind her shoulders, he lifted her chin. “Tell me something, Collette, when this is all over and we've sized you up with a match, what would you do if he's one of the men that want an arranged marriage?”

Her brow pinched. “How frequently does that happen?”

“More often than you'd imagine. It's the primary reason our clientele initiates contact.”

“They don't meet at all?”

“Some do. Some communicate in other ways before meeting face to face, but only see each other the day of the wedding. It depends on the couple.”

“And you've only had two divorces?”

He chuckled. “That's right.” He took her hands, making a point to acclimate her to his touch. “I intend for us to know each other intimately over the next few weeks. We have a lot of ground to cover. My point is, sometimes it's better to jump in rather than tiptoe.”

She sighed. “I suppose getting it over with is one way to go about it. It just seems so clinical.”

That word caught his attention. “You have no idea how clinical it can get. Sometimes making intimacy as cut-and-dried as possible can be quite erotic. I could spend hours watching you fill a set of stirrups, memorizing your body before ever laying a hand on it.”

“What?”

He tsked. “Don't judge something you've never tried, peach.”

She frowned. “The lawyer called me that yesterday.”

“Did he?” Ezra had said he wasn't ruling out the chance that Collette might like women, but Jude sensed she wasn't a fit for his friends. Different strokes for different folks.

“Yes.”

“Well, he did mention finding you very sweet.” His territorial instincts quelled as he reminded himself this was temporary and Collette was nothing more than a protégé. Knowing their association had a shelf life suited him well. There was no expectation. One couldn't lose something if they never truly had it to begin with.

His hands slowly traveled over her thighs and arms, and soon she didn't seem to flinch at his touch. The more familiar he became to her, the more she seemed to tolerate. Good.

“I'm going to show you to your room. I'll give you some time to shower and make yourself at home. Everything you need will be in the drawers and you can help yourself. When you're finished, I want you to wait there for me. Do you understand?”

She frowned. “Yeah.”

He arched a brow.

“Yes,” she corrected, and he waited. “I mean, yes, Jude.” Good enough for a start.

He walked her up the steps to the mistress's bedroom. Bracing himself for the deluge of memories, he shut his eyes as he turned the knob.

Pleased with the changes Lea had made, he let out a breath of relief. Not only were the linens changed, the furniture was switched out with that of another room. It looked nothing like it had when his wife slept there.

He showed her the bathroom and waited to see if she had any other questions. Sensing she was anxious to be alone, he left her to her own devices. He'd give her at least an hour to collect herself.

When he returned to the first floor he called Ezra. “We're here.”

“Yes, I've been informed by several of your nosy neighbors who saw the Benz go by. Lea's dying to meet her.”

“Is that Jude?” His friend's wife interrupted in the background.

Ezra laughed. “She's out of hand. I swear she can smell fresh pussy from a mile away.”

“Express my appreciation for the work she did at the château. It looks incredible. I'd like to repay the favor.”

“Careful what you offer.”

“Collette's not an option. Not yet.”

“Jude said you did a wonderful job on the château, baby. He'd like to return the favor.” He waited as Lea mumbled something he couldn't make out, and Ezra chuckled. “I don't know how his protégé will feel about that.”

“What does she want?”

“She wants to watch you and me.”

Jude considered this and laughed. It would be good to see Collette's reaction, but he'd have to break her in a bit first. “Maybe.”

“He said maybe, now go find something to do before I find something for you.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Jude,” she called.

Jude shook his head. “She'll never be easy. You better find an obedient second, because Lea will eventually corrupt her and then you'll have two of them on your hands.”

Ezra laughed. “Don't I know it? So how's it going? Fuck the peach yet?”

“Don't be crass. And no. God, it's strange being back here.”

“It's where you belong, Jude. You never should have left.”

“I had no reason to stay.”

“You had us. The women missed you. So did the guys. Fernweh isn't the same when you're gone.”

“Well, I'm here for the next month.”

“And after that?”

He couldn't make any promises. “A month's the most I can offer right now.”

His friend sighed. “I understand.”

Ezra had always claimed to understand, but he never would. Lea was his perfect match, one third of the pie. Eventually, they'd have their final part and be complete. He and Tiffany weren't so lucky.

Jude never wanted more than one woman. Sharing from time to time was fine, but he wasn't into a long-term polyamorous relationship the way some of the others were. Jude appreciated the basics. He needed to be the head of the household and he wanted his woman happy and submissive. It was literally as simple as that—sometimes too simple for some to abide.

When he finished the call, he walked the common areas of the château. Certain rooms, such as the library, were clear of memories. Others were simply too painful to enter.

Gripping the back of his neck, he quietly muttered, “Jesus, she fucked me up.”

A collection of Tiffany's personal items was gathered in a spare bedroom. Lea could have thrown them away. At this point, Tiffany wasn't coming back. The last he'd spoken to her was two years ago and she was engaged—not even to the asshole she left him for.