“No.” Christophe shook his head, hoping to hell he wasn't. His father wouldn't be that foolish to name him CEO...would he? “You're the one The Old Man's been grooming to take over, Annata.” He prayed he spoke the truth. Annata would go ape-shit if The Old Man fucked her over. He didn't want to be there to see that explosion. Annata took a shaky sip of her drink and avoided his eyes. Christophe drank in the sight of her. She was beautiful when she was angry.
“I'm sorry,” she bit out.
“I keep coming back for more, I suppose. So shame on me.” He gave a small smile.
“You bring out the bitch in me.” Annata took a deep breath and looked at him. Her gaze softened. “Come here.” She stepped closer to him and reached up to run her fingers through his hair. Feeling her fingernails rake against his scalp was heavenly. He remembered how her fingernails felt against the skin of his back. He suppressed a moan, but unfortunately, couldn't suppress his rapidly growing erection. His cock was getting a hell of a workout that evening. “You're a mess,” she murmured as she smoothed his hair. Her hand lingered there...or maybe he was just imagining things.
“Do you really hate me?” he whispered.
She sighed and dropped her hand. “You're such a pain in my ass.” She stepped back and took him in. He must have passed inspection because, after a moment, she brushed past him. The scent of her perfume followed her, leaving a distinct void in the room. She swung the door open and turned back. “So, back to Brazil?”
“As soon as fucking possible,” Christophe said. She nodded and then was gone. The door slammed shut behind her. He sighed. It was time to get the hell out of the city. He didn’t know why he'd even bothered to come back.
Chapter 3
Annata cursed herself as she made her way down the hallway. She'd shown her hand. Dammit! She'd let him get to her. He could always get to her. She realized she was shaky on her feet. So many thoughts and emotions had bubbled through her just minutes before, she couldn't help but be shaken. Oh, how she hated him! Only Christophe could show up after years and push his way inside. It was just his way. He was so charming and so entitled. It had always been like that. With William, and with her. But he wasn't a fighter. When things got hard, he would soften. He would run away. That was the only thing Annata was counting on. Christophe had never had to truly fight for anything in his life. And she wasn't planning on letting him take anything from her without a fight.
Annata ran a hand along the wall, steadying herself. One time. One time she'd let him win. One moment of weakness that haunted her. Late at night, sometimes, the memories of that day in her office came back to her. He was just 24 then, to her 29. She had thought of him as just a boy. But she had underestimated him. Goddamn, how she'd underestimated him. She wouldn't make that mistake again.
She was aware, suddenly, that Christophe had exited the conference room behind her and was moving toward her. She could feel his eyes on her back. She felt an involuntary pang in her gut. He was watching her. She removed her hand from the wall and walked on her own. She wouldn't let him see how he affected her. Though she'd damn near swooned when she felt his hardness against her. He still wanted her. She remembered how good he could make her feel. The beautiful bastard. But she had stayed strong. She'd still won.
The sounds of the party broke her reverie. A loud cheer went up in the ballroom. William Van der Kind must have arrived. She hurried for the door. She wondered if he would break the news to the crowd or drop a clue to his plans. One thing was sure. She needed to see her mentor; she needed reassurance.
She entered the ballroom just as William was ascending the stage to make his annual Christmas speech. He was dressed in a smart white suit, a jolly green shirt, and a blazing red bow-tie. He liked to dress festively for the season. She was surprised he didn't rent a Santa suit again this year. Around her, the partygoers cheered on their CEO. Annata clapped as well, a smile pasted back on her face.
“All hail the king.” His whisper in her ear made her jump. Christophe was behind her in the doorway of the ballroom. She jabbed him swiftly in his hard stomach with her elbow. His soft chuckle tickled the hairs of her neck.
William took the microphone and put it to his lips. “Hello my friends! Happy Holidays!” The cheering grew louder. “I hope all of you have been enjoying this glorious night and I won't take up too much of your time by prattling on.” He laughed loudly at his own words. Christophe pressed against her, and she found it hard to stay focused on William. Her resolve was weakening. An ache was growing between her legs. Her panties were getting soaked. She shifted her legs, accidentally rolling her ass against his front. She heard his sharp intake of breath. His hand snaked around her hip and his fingers gripped the rich fabric of her dress. His warmth seeped through to her skin. The partygoers around her called out and whistled, as William said something clever. Annata felt herself clapping along.
“Annata,” he groaned. Annata shushed him. He said her name again, his voice a pained whisper. “Come with me tonight.” Annata shook her head, the smile still pasted on. A pang shot through her again. Her knees wobbled. “Annie.” His voice promised so many things. She closed her eyes for a minute. She hadn't relaxed and let her hair down for so long. She coughed as her throat tightened. Maybe...maybe it wouldn't be so bad to let him win. Just this once.
“Annie! Annie, wave to everybody!” William called out. She felt the attention in the room shift to her. “Annata St. James, everyone. This year wouldn't be half as successful without her. I don't know what I would do without her.” Every eye in the place was on her. She broke away from Christophe and waved. She blew William a big kiss. “Annie, I have a secret for you and for everyone here. A secret I've been dying to tell you.” Annata's heart jumped in her chest. What was William planning? Was this the moment she found out her dream had come true? Or a moment of defeat?
“I wanted to make the big announcement tonight, at this wonderful party, that International has purchased a large manufacturer in Brazil. We're expanding our market share and, you heard it here first, I predict we'll raise revenue tenfold!” A big cheer went up in the crowd. Annata felt her face harden. Brazil. Son of a bitch.
“We couldn't have done it without my son, Christophe. He didn't stop pushing until he secured purchase. Proven to be quite a chip off the old block!” The applause was deafening. She whirled around to face Christophe, smile still planted on her face. He stared down at her, his jaw clenched. He looked uncomfortable as partygoers clapped him on the back and shook his hand. Good. She wanted to see him squirm. And to think, she'd almost given in to him! Rage boiled up in her so quickly she saw red. She glided over and pulled him to her in a hug that she hoped looked friendly. She didn't want anyone to know how close she was to strangling him with her bare hands.
“You sneaky bastard!” she hissed into his ear.
“Annie—,” he began but she pulled away from him. Turning, she pushed her way through the crowd, putting as much space as possible between she and Christophe Van der Kind.
Chapter 4
Annata sat in front of her computer the day after the party. It was Sunday. The office was blissfully quiet. She was alone. And hungover. She nursed a cup of coffee. The night had been long. Christophe had left the party an hour or so after his father's speech. Annata had watched him go from a safe distance. She hoped he was on a plane this very second, getting the hell out of her life. Although she had wanted to run out the door herself, she stayed until two in the morning. William had taken her around and they had mingled with each and every one of his cronies.
When she got home, she tossed and turned until the sun began to peak through the curtains. Anger simmered below her skin; rage shot up her spine. Restless energy stopped her from closing her eyes. Besides, when she did close her eyes, she saw Christophe. She couldn't believe he'd had it in him to secure a purchase. No doubt, he was the favorite for CEO now. She had underestimated him, yet again, and the thought drove her nuts. She punched her pillows, sweating eve
n though it was cool in the room. Sleep had been impossible. In the office, she could finally relax. She could lose herself in numbers and reports.
After about an hour of an hour of reading, her cellphone rang. She jumped about a foot in her chair. “Christ.” She mumbled to herself and checked the caller ID. It was her sister, Antoinette. “Hey, girl,” she answered, her attention back on reading the end-of-year report. “What are you doing?” Toni was her baby sister, only 22-years-old, and had been in the city for a few years. She was a ballerina with a prestigious company. Both sisters had extremely busy schedules. She wondered why Toni was calling. She checked the face of her gold watch. It was noon. Toni should be in rehearsal.
“I was just about to go into rehearsal. Let me guess, you're in the office?” Her sister sounded smug. Annata was so predictable.
“You are correct.”
“I wanted to remind you that you're supposed to pick me up for the airport on Friday.” She and Toni were traveling to New Orleans for Christmas to see their parents and grandmother. She hadn't been home for three years. Granny made sure to bring it up every time they talked, which regrettably, wasn't often.
“I didn't forget.” Annata scrawled the bit of information on a Post-it. Of course she'd forgotten. Again, she'd been predictable. “I'll be there with bells on.”
“You better. So what's happening? Anything new?” Toni asked. Annata debated whether to give her an honest answer, but decided against it.
“Had the Christmas party last night. That's about it.”
“No wonder you sound tired.”
“And hungover.” Annata placed a hand to her head. Her headache was returning.
“You didn't send me a picture of your dress,” Toni said accusingly. Annata sat back in her chair. That beautiful dress. She just hoped that the way she looked in it was seared in Christophe's memory. It would serve him right. The bastard.
“When I get one, I'll email it to you.”
“Or I could just check the society pages.” Toni giggled. “You're front and center.” Annata groaned. She'd seen the Times' photographer at the party. Maybe she had even posed for him? Wine was an evil thing. “You look amazing, and I'm not just saying that because I'm your sister. You've been working out, girl.”
“That's all I do. Work and work out. I have no life.”
“Well you look beautiful doing it.” Annata could hear a flurry of activity and voices on Toni's end of the line. “Okay, I have to go. Rehearsal calls. Friday. Don't forget!”
“I won't,” Annata answered, and then the line went dead. Annata typed in the web address for the Times. She clicked through to the society pages. There she was, posing with William and Miranda, big smiles all around. She scrolled down the page, scanning the rest of the pictures. There HE was. Smiling with Jana Stephens, that damn socialite. They certainly were two beautiful people. His smile didn't seem to reach his eyes. She hoped she could take some credit for that. But Jana was young, white, and rich. She was his type. Annata wondered if he had left the party with Jana Stephens—or someone like her—last night?
Annata slammed her laptop shut. Her headache was definitely back with a vengeance. She crossed her arms on her desk and dropped her head on top of them. When she closed her eyes, Christophe's angry face flashed before her. She loved when she could goad him into anger. When his blue eyes turned dark and stormy, she knew that she had made an impression on him. And when he pressed his hardness against her and showed her the raw power that he possessed...that's the Christophe that stuck with her. That's the Christophe she craved. In those moments, she knew he was a man, and not a boy in his father's shadow.
The ringing of her cellphone broke her out of her fantasy. It was William Van der Kind. Her heart skipped a beat. What did William want? She answered on the second ring.
“William? Hello!” She heard the false cheerfulness in her voice.
“Annie, my dear,” he said, all business. “Would it be possible for you to stop by the townhouse this evening? I need a word.”
“Um,”she lingered, not wanting to seem too eager. “Sure, no problem. When do you need me?”
“ASAP, Dear. ASAP.”
***
Annata unbuttoned her wool coat in the foyer of William's three story Upper-East side brownstone. She stood on a handwoven Persian rug. Damask silk covered the walls. A round, antique claw-foot table stood in the center of the room, topped with a ridiculously large arrangement of evergreen sprigs and poinsettias . The maid held out her hand for Annata's coat and then disappeared with it. Annata tried not to feel out of place in the house. She deserved to be here, she told herself. Annata smoothed the palms of her hands down her black pants. She hated feeling out of her element.
“Annata!” Miranda breezed down the stairs in a flowing skirt. “A little hair of the dog for your hangover?” She held up a gin and tonic.
“No. None for me.” The thought of a drink made Annata cringe and her stomach do a flip-flop. The effects of her hangover still hadn't passed. The ladies exchanged air kisses when Miranda got to the bottom step.
“He's in the den. He's been waiting for you.” Miranda slid her arm around Annata's shoulders. The smell of booze mingled with their perfumes. “He seems a little edgy.” Miranda stage-whispered. Great. Annata was bursting with curiosity, but also dread.
William looked up from his desk as they entered. “What a sight for sore eyes!” he exclaimed.
“I don't think he means me,” Miranda said and took a drink.
“You're about to save my life.” William stood and drained a glass of scotch. “I need you to fly out tonight.”
Annata blinked. Okay. Apparently she was flying somewhere. Great. “Absolutely, William, whatever you need.”
“Paris. Jean Pierre had a heart attack. We need a good head on their shoulders for a few days.”
“Jean Pierre! Oh no!” Miranda exclaimed.
“How is he?” Annata asked. She had met Jean Pierre, the head of their Paris office, several times. She felt a pang of alarm.
“We don't know yet. Still waiting for word.” William shoved his hands in his pockets. He suddenly looked very old. Jean Pierre and he had known each other for over twenty years. Miranda patted William's arm. “This is why I'm retiring before it's too late.” He sighed and caught Annata's eye. She nodded.
“I'll go pack a bag.”
“Take the private jet. I'll arrange it.”
She could hear the front door open and what sounded like a deep male voice. No. It couldn't be. She turned slowly to face the door. Christophe strode into the room.“You rang, Old Man?” He stopped short when he saw her. He looked terrible, she noted with satisfaction. Definitely hungover. His hair was mussed and he had the dusting of a five o'clock shadow on his cheeks. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. His eyes caught hers then flitted past her, to William, as he pulled off his leather gloves. “Called out the big guns, eh?”
“Christophe, glad you could make it,” William said dryly. “We need you.”
Christophe's gaze turned back to Annata. “I doubt it.” He worked his jaw and ran his hand through his hair, impatient. She wondered if he had plans. Was someone waiting for him to return? She felt a flare of anger go through her. She narrowed her eyes at him. Annata didn't like where this was going.
“Jean Pierre had a heart attack,” William said, curtly.
“Shit.” Christophe ducked his head. “I'm sorry to hear that.”
“Annie is going to Paris tonight. I'd like you to go with her.”
***
The look on Annata's face was priceless. It was a fleeting reaction that might have been missed by someone who didn't know her like he did. But for a millisecond, violence flashed behind her eyes. He might have laughed out loud if the situation weren't so grave. He knew and liked Jean Pierre. He'd dated Jean Pierre's daughter Julie, for god's sake. But damn. He loved when something got under her skin. And spending ten hours on a plane with him apparently got under her skin.
“William—,” she began.
“Humor me, Annie.” The Old Man sunk into the leather wing-backed chair in the corner. Christophe noticed for the first time that his father was starting to look his age. Annata pursed her lips, but didn't push. She could see Jean Pierre's heart attack had gotten to The Old Man, just like Christophe could. Miranda propped herself on the arm of the chair next to her husband and rubbed his shoulders.
Annata inhaled a sharp breath and snapped her hands together. “I'll go get packed.” She turned and moved to the door. She didn't look at him as she passed. Christophe sighed. He wondered what The Old Man's angle was. Did his father know what he was doing putting them together? With a nod, Christophe turned to follow Annata to the door.
“Play nice, children,” The Old Man called after him. Christophe smirked. The old bastard. He bet that his father didn't know that he knew about his impending retirement. He felt like this was the latest test in an endless string of tests—and Annata was the star pupil. For the millionth time in the last 36 hours, he wished he'd never left Brazil. After he quit the party, he rode around the city in the back of his limo and felt empty. The bed waiting for him at his city pied-a-terre was empty. His arms were empty. He felt like a living cliché, but it was true. He had cars and houses and money. He had good looks and a decent head of hair. For the first 24 years of his life, that had been enough. But seven years ago, he met Annata in the hallway of his father's office and the facade came crashing down. It was ruined.
Annata had no respect for someone like him. He was a gnat buzzing around her ear; he was shit on her Louboutins. The first day she met him, she'd told him exactly what she thought of him. He had been shocked. No one had ever talked to him the way she did. She pissed him off and made him want to prove her wrong. The last seven years of his life had been about proving to Annata that he wasn't a colossal fuck-up. To date, he still hadn't succeeded. She disliked and distrusted him as much she ever did.
Kiss of Ice (St. James Family) Page 2
