A Winter's Kiss (A Winter's Tale Book 1)

by Tailor, Kristi

  Without warning the happiness of her former relationships with individuals she had loved her entire life was overcast by reality. The transgressions of her other sibling quickly making its presence known; the foundation of everything she had believed in was broken. Marguerite, her most beloved sister, had proven that blood was not a means for loyalty and respect, but in fact that family was the pretense of love and expectations that were not always met. After all, she did not expect to catch her fiancé in bed with her sister, nor did she expect for her parents to know about the affair- but that was the funny thing about expectations, they always seemed to run parallel to what was seemingly expected.

  Charlotte opened her eyes in the darkness of her living room, hating the moisture that coated her cheeks but refusing to wipe away the effects of being betrayed. Her tears were hot matching her disposition on matters of the heart. Pushing the memory of her sister’s disloyalty into the back of her mind did not aid in the process of forgiveness. “Get it together, Charlotte,” she chastised herself hating the direction her thoughts had taken. Closing her eyes once more she pulled the blanket over her head hoping the darkness would work as an aid in her attempt at falling asleep. Being unconscious is exactly what she needed; at least then her mind would have peace. Drowsiness had just begun to settle in when a loud thumping sounded outside of her apartment door. Glancing at the digital clock that set front face on her television mantle she frowned. 7:23p.m.

  “Who is it?” Charlotte called as she made her way to the door huffing as she tightened the blanket around her thin frame.

  “He who bears gifts,” answered a familiar masculine voice.

  Nicholas? What is he doing here? She wondered. Opening the door she gasped at the sight of him. A bright smile reached his mercury grey eyes as she stared at him thoughtfully.

  “Are you going to let me in?” he asked feigning a look of annoyance. “This is kinda’ heavy,” he said nodding at the silver containers in his large hands.

  Charlotte glanced at the food filled basins and then back at him, her frown deepening. “What is all of this?” she asked stepping aside to allow him entry into her home.

  “What does it look like?”

  “I don’t know . . . left overs?” she mused.

  “That’s a bit tacky.”

  “Bringing leftovers? I never thought of that as being tacky, but then again we are from different social classes, after all . . . .”

  “After all,” he smiled. “Anyway I knew you’d be home, alone, hungry, moping, and feeling sorry for yourself . . . I thought the least I could do was bring by something to eat.”

  “Is it catered?”

  “The best food is,” Nicholas laughed. “I got the basics, Mac-n- Cheese, Sweet Potatoes, Shredded Turkey, Collard Greens, Stuffing, and for Dessert Apple Pie and Banana Pudding.”

  “Wow. You went all out,” she beamed at him. The familiar aroma of the seasonal food caused a sweet ache to form on the inside. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized how hungry she truly was. Walking swiftly past him Charlotte quickly made her way into the kitchen where she hurriedly searched for plates and eating utensils. I know there should be at least two clean forks, she groaned inwardly suddenly annoyed by her house keeping skills, or lack thereof for that matter.

  “You okay in there?” he called at the sound of cabinets slamming behind him.

  “I need another fork,” she sighed. “Give me a sec-”

  Nicholas laughed. “I have plastic forks, and plates’ right here.”

  “You thought of everything,” Charlotte smiled appreciatively. “Thank you,” she said taking a seat beside him on the couch.

  “Not much to think of . . . I scarcely remember a time when you didn’t have to wash dishes before we could eat,” he shrugged.

  “Jerk.”

  “I’m being honest,” he chuckled.

  “And a jerk.”

  Ignoring her sentiment Nicholas took his time opening the aluminum containers careful not to get burned by the steam.

  “Not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing here? I thought you were headed to Cape Cod with your family for Thanksgiving?” she asked licking her lips as she piled Sweet Potatoes on her plate.

  “Something came up,” he shrugged not bothering to explain himself.

  Charlotte glowered. “Oh. Is everything okay?” she probed, a look of concern in her chestnut brown eyes.

  “Yeah, it’s nothing like that. I just didn’t make the trip this year . . . and good thing I didn’t otherwise you’d be sitting here hungry and alone,” he mused.

  Charlotte felt reprimanded by his words, but decided to take his acknowledgement for what it was; after all, his assessment of the situation wasn’t completely wrong. Before he had arrived, she was indeed hungry and alone.

  “So, am I forgiven?” he asked after a moments silence.

  “Forgiven? For what?”

  “Refusing to pretend that you’re my subordinate and nothing more . . . .”

  “About that?” Charlotte furrowed her arched brows showcasing her confusion over the matter. “I thought we had an understanding?”

  “Dimple, I’m not going to pretend that you’re just my employee. Besides, I’m not that good of an actor anyway, even if I tried to keep my distance from you someone would make assumptions about the lack of attention I’m giving you . . . people need something to talk about, and unfortunately it just so happens that the people we work with find gossiping about us to be most entertaining.”

  “Even still, as my best friend the least you could have done was attempt to play along.”

  Nicholas rubbed his index finger along his jawline teasing the dark hair that covered his face. “Does it really mean that much to you? Putting on the façade that our relationship is strictly professional?” he asked gazing at her deeply.

  “Yes, it does. I don’t want to be ridiculed at work . . . I want to be respected for all that I do, not because people think I’m doing you, no pun intended,” she snorted.

  Nicholas smiled broadly at her. “If you say so,” he laughed. “Fine . . . fine. From now on you’re my employee and nothing more while we’re in the workplace. You have my word.”

  “You said that before, and look what happened,” she argued.

  Nicholas shrugged. “Well this time I mean it.”

  Jerk.

  ***

  Charlotte stretched her long torso before opening her eyes, slightly confused when she realized that she was still in the living room. Blinking rapidly she squinted as her eyes adjusted to the bright autumn sun that shined through her snow white curtains. Glancing at the mantle clock she smiled. 8:00 a.m. and nowhere to go, she thought overjoyed. While everyone was out fighting the hustle and bustle of Black Friday shopping she was content with the notion of staying inside to enjoy the benefits of online bargaining. Turning onto her side she tossed the cover off of her thin body stretching again as she stared down at Nicholas who had made a bed out of throw pillows and an old quilted comforter her mother had crotched for her years ago.

  She wasn’t surprised that he had spent the night, after all it had become a custom of theirs to stay up until early morning hours watching movies, and talking until they eventually fell asleep. Throwing her legs over the couch she stood in front of him, a small smile playing at her lips at the sight of him lying there so peacefully; it was a rare sight to be seen. Stress from the Magazine came in torrents, having to make difficult decisions in regards to the future employment of his staff was overwhelming and had started to take a toll on him. More often than not he was consumed with thoughts of business unable to focus on anything beyond budgets and briefs.

  Inching away from him Charlotte tiptoed into the kitchen careful not to make noise as she opened the refrigerator pulling out a carton of eggs, and a half used stick of butter. “Clean pans, clean pans . . . .” she whispered hoping to find at least one that she didn’t have to wash. “Sweet,” she cooed sighting one behind a set of plasti
c plates. Turning on the electric stove she placed the pan onto the red lit surface not wasting time in cutting two thin pieces of the salted coating into the heated pan. Opening the refrigerator once more she grabbed three potatoes, and reaching for the cutting board on the counter space opposite the stove she kicked the cold box closed silently making her way around the small kitchen with a purpose. After all that he had done for her the night before the least she could do was make him breakfast, even if it wasn’t much.

  ***

  The smell of sunny side up eggs and fried potatoes filled her petite apartment causing Nicholas to stir in his sleep. Swallowing hard he turned onto his side flexing his back muscles as he did so. The fatigued feeling that exhaustion introduced made the floor a welcoming divan, however, now that energy was no longer lacking the hardness of the wooden surface had proven unpleasant.

  Nicholas remained under the comfort of the homely quilt as his bright eyes gazed around the living room. He was alone. Leaning on his elbows he turned his head in the direction of the kitchen, frowning when he saw that Charlotte was nowhere in sight. He moved then, suddenly rising to his feet he made his way down the carpeted hallway to her bedroom.

  “Charlotte,” he called as he knocked with the knuckle of his index finger. “Are you in here?”

  Answered with silence Nicholas pushed open the door without hesitation walking into the all-white room with a faint smile on his lips. It amazed him how neat of a person Charlotte was- everything had a place, and nothing was ever out of position. There was an even amount of pillows that lined her bed, a pair of candles on her bedside table, two books on her bed nook- their titles facing forward, two plants on either side of her dresser, and two tall lamp stands on adjacent walls center-piecing her suede loveseat. Shaking his head he stood confounded at the thought of how a person could display major signs of OCD by means of one area of their home, but lack the necessity of being compulsive in other areas, hence the kitchen which was always in disarray.

  “What are you doing?” Charlotte asked from behind him a curious grin on her face.

  Nicholas turned at the sound of her voice. Shrugging his shoulders he smiled at her. “Looking for you. Where were you?”

  “I went for a run. I left you a note . . . it’s next to your breakfast.”

  “Oh,” Nicholas took a step in Charlotte’s direction his eyes never leaving hers. “How was your run?” he asked tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Amazing, I love the crisp New York air,” she beamed. “It’s so refreshing.”

  “Thank you for breakfast, you’re too kind,” he laughed.

  Charlotte’s eyes beamed at him delightedly laughter evident in her smile, “I know. I know,” she chuckled, “I’m pretty wonderful.”

  “Yeah you are,” he said sharing in her laughter. “But the test is whether or not it’s appetizing, taste is everything.”

  “Oh?” she teased. “Is taste everything?”

  Nicholas narrowed his eyes at her, a boyish smile teasing his lips. “Absolutely.”

  “Then come,” she said pulling him out of her bedroom. “Let’s see if your taste is the same as mine.”

  Nicholas licked his lips holding back the first words that came to mind, intent on keeping his thoughts to himself he answered, “Let’s.”

  Chapter Six

  DECEMBER 2008

  “I knew this would happen,” Dean grumbled. “I called it months ago. Fissicle has no intention of keeping Leisure Me Ready in business. It has been his agenda from the very beginning to integrate his employees into the company before blindsiding us.”

  “Calm down,” Nicholas ordered rubbing his temples in agitation.

  “How am I supposed to calm down knowing that any day, at any hour I could be out of a job? I’ve been with this magazine for five years now, and just like that,” Dean snapped his fingers, “It’s all over.”

  “Are we really going to lose our jobs?” squeaked Rebecca, the Budget Analyst.

  “No one is going to lose their job,” Nicholas assured Rebecca, and the full room of weary employees. Glaring at Dean disdainfully Nicholas rose from his seat at the head of the conference table. “Listen, I understand your concerns, and I can only imagine how worried you all must feel right now- But you have to trust that I would never allow any members of my team to be left without employment. Now with that being said I have some news . . . this morning I had a meeting with Fissicle, and he has agreed to keep all of our staff on payroll. However, certain departments have been deemed unnecessary, and unfortunately if you’re contracted under those specific teams you’ll have one of two options. The first involves taking a pay cut to keep that faction afloat, or moving to a different department where it is very possible that there will be a pay cut congruent on an individuals’ skills and education.”

  “Are you serious?” Dean laughed sardonically. “So exactly what departments were put up to fry in this nightmare?”

  “The list will be posted within the next forty- eight hours,” Nicholas said regarding the other man coldly.

  “This is such utter crap!” Dean continued. “If only you would have asked your father to speak to the man we wouldn’t-”

  “We would be in the same situation. Fissicle is not interested in a retirement magazine. Let’s face it folks, even if we weren’t bought out by Fissicle it wouldn’t have been a long road for us to travel. Our sales have been down for some time now. The economy isn’t what it used to be and people are retiring later and later as the years’ progress. And when they finally do have the opportunity to consider retirement more often than not their incomes are barely enough to keep their households in order. I hate that it happened this way, but believe me when I say that this outcome was inevitable. Now, the idea of a Wedding Magazine didn’t seem all too appealing to me at first either, but the numbers are remarkable. With the general sales alone everyone at this table will be satisfied with the pay raises, and yearly bonuses in due time- just stick with me, and I promise you will not regret it,” Nicholas said assuring the large group in front of him, but his molten gaze was focused on Charlotte’s almond browns.

  “Let me ask you something?” Dean pressed tearing his attention away from the woman sitting a few chairs away from him. “While we are taking these pay cuts, and awaiting the promises you have in store for us- what is happening with your salary?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “How will your wages be affected by this take over?” Dean demanded not cutting any cards.

  Nicholas stared at his employee squarely mentally counting backwards as he prayed for patience.

  “Mr. Elliot is Editor- and- Chief, of course his pay should remain the same- regardless of who owns shares, or the change in company advertising. As long as he holds the position as lead in command he should get paid as such. His salary is not interchangeable to ours,” Charlotte glanced around the room as she spoke. “He’s already explained that there was nothing else that could have been done. We’ve known about the take over for almost a month now, and in knowing such we knew that there was a possibility that Fissicle would backdoor Leisure Me Ready for the sole benefit of Gizzelle Bridal. It’s already done, now let’s move on.”

  “Funny . . . You referring to him as Mr. Elliot . . . forgive me for prying, but are you that formal when the two of you are alone?”

  “Dean,” Nicholas warned.

  “Charlotte?” Dean insisted ignoring Nicholas’ threatening tone. “I’m sure that I’m not the only one here that’s interested in the dynamic of your relationship with the Editor and Chief, so, when he’s screwing your brains out are you still so formal, or are you on a first name basis?”

  “Dean! That’s enough!” Patricia chastised.

  “I’m sorry Patricia, but this is a joke. I can guarantee that this man will negotiate a way for Charlotte to keep her salary while the rest of us are forced to put on a happy face.”

  “I am treated no differently than anyone in this room,” Charlot
te defended. “You are out of line, Dean.”

  While her demeanor was calm on the outside, on the inside she was screaming, outraged by the nerve, by the un-blegigated gull of the man. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words had cut her.

  “Dean, please excuse yourself,” Nicholas ordered his tone barely above an octave. There was heat in his words, an inferno that was slowly building.

  “Is the meeting adjourned?” the man asked mockingly. “I couldn’t think of anything better than to excuse myself from this room.”

  Nicholas snorted indignantly, “From the building, Dean, excuse yourself from the building, and leave your security badge with Patricia on your way out.”

  “What?” Dean shouted his face a grotesque mask. “You can’t fire me! You have no grounds for my termination. I’m superior at my job. Fissicle-”

  “Could careless who I fire, or hire as long as he’s making a profit, and Fissicle aside, I am Editor and Chief and what I say goes end of story. Now get out.”

  An uncomfortable silence filled the room as Dean rose from his chair snatching the badge from around his neck as he did so. “I will fight you on this,” he promised throwing the plastic badge on the table as he passed Patricia. “You’re going to regret this!”

  Charlotte grimaced as Dean made his way past her eyeing her hatefully before walking to the large wooden doors forcefully pushing them open as he exited the room.

  “Any questions, comments, or concerns?” Nicholas asked backing away from the large rectangular table.

  Silence.

  “None?” he pressed.

  Silence.

  “Well then get back to work.”