She almost had to laugh at herself, if the situation weren't so dire. She was being ridiculous. But she also knew that if she was alone with him again, there was no telling what she might do. She just might fall in love with him, for chrissakes!
“Annata St. James.” A low voice behind her sent a shiver down her spine. Her brain short-circuited for a minute and she stopped walking. HIM. Shit. “I was just coming to see you,” he said, inches from her ear.
“Make it quick. I was on my way to...see your father,” she said, making up something on the fly. She forced her feet to continuing moving toward her office. She entered the room, and immediately knew she'd made a tactical error. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. He looked great as always, in tailored suit pants and a light blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves and open at the throat.
“Have you been avoiding me?” Christophe asked, smiling a bit.
“Some of us work around here. If I didn't see you, it's because I'm busy.”
“Whatever you say.” He jammed his hands in his pockets, moving toward her. She averted her eyes, gathering and organizing papers on her desk. She felt him sweep an errant braid over her shoulder, his fingers lingering on her back. “It's my last day,” he said, his cologne wafting around her. She wondered vaguely if her hair would smell like him later? After they fucked, his scent was all over her. When she took off her clothes that night in her bedroom, his smell was everywhere. She sighed lightly.
“I know,” she said. “William told me.”
“I'm going to London,” Christophe said, his finger tips trailing down her back, to the waistband of her skirt.
“Good for you,” she murmured, her attention focused on his roaming hand. He hooked his finger in the waistband, pulling her into him. Her back hit his hard chest and she scoffed. “What do you think you're doing, Van der Kind?” she said.
“Sorry. I can't seem to keep my hands off you.” He nuzzled her neck. “Your body is impossible to resist.”
“Sounds like a personal problem,” she said, tilting her chin so he could get better access to the sensitive skin of her neck. She stifled a moan as he ran his tongue along the base of her throat. His hands snaked around her waist, locking her to him. She could feel his hardness against her ass, and a spark ran down her spine.
“Come with me,” he whispered.
“What?” she furrowed her brow, her brain starting to fog over.
“To London. Come with me.” He brought one hand up to cup her breast through her shirt. He swept his thumb across the padding of her bra, her nipple responding instantly. She jerked against him, not able to contain her moan. After a moment, what he said finally dawned on her, and she shook her head.
“I can't,” she said, trying to pull away from him. He held her to him, his arms strong and tight around her.
“Come with me. I'll take care of you.”
“You'll take care of me?” Annata could feel her voice rising. “Don't make me laugh.”
“You don't have to work, if you don't want. That's what I meant. Screw this job,” he said.
“I happen to like my job,” she said, pulling away from him again. This time, he let her go. “But I guess you wouldn't understand that.”
“I wouldn't understand because I've never worked a day in my life, right?” he said.
“You said it, not me.” She plopped her hands on her hips.
“Ah. You know if you ever get that stick out of your ass, you might learn to appreciate the finer things in life,” he said, his eyes darkening.
“Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “That's clever.”
“Thank you,” he replied.
“You're a pampered child.” She leaned in, slamming her hands on the desk. “The only thing you're good for is spending money and fucking your way across multiple continents.”
“You liked it when I fucked you. I must be doing something right.” He also leaned in, his face inches from her.
“Don't flatter yourself. Anybody can get lucky once, it doesn't take skill.”
“I think we should test that theory. I'll fuck you so good you won't remember your name.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, and Annata blinked, suppressing the shiver that threatened to go down her spine. “Since that's all I'm good for.”
“Have a great time in London spending Daddy's money. Meanwhile, I'll make sure to help keep your meal ticket afloat.”
“Do you enjoy being a bitch? I think you might like it a little too much.”
“I think I'm fine, thanks.” She swept around the desk, pressing her ass into him as she passed. “Don't worry your pretty little head. You'll forget me before you're even on the plane. I'm sure you'll find another girl to drop her panties for you like that.” She snapped her fingers as she sat in her chair. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.” She turned to her computer.
“By all means, don't let me interrupt.” He said on his way to the door.
“Have a nice life.” She replied, opening her email. The door slammed behind him. Her shoulder sagged and she dropped her head onto the keyboard. She instantly wondered if she should have just shut up and gone with him. Even though she knew it would be a huge mistake. He'd fuck her until he had his fill, and then she'd be on a plane back to the States before she could even pull her panties back up. But...it was tempting. She could pretend to be like Christophe, jet-setting without a care in the world, just for a little while.
She stood and went to the door. She put her hand on the doorknob. What if she said yes? What if? She threw open the door and stepped out into the hallway. It was empty. Christophe was gone.
Present Day
Annata opened her eyes, and realized her cheeks were wet. She swiped at them, annoyed at herself for crying. Sometimes, on those lonely nights, she would fantasize that she'd opened the door, and Christy was standing there, waiting for her. He would kiss her and tell her he forgave her. And then they would fly to London and have amazing adventures and amazing sex. But eventually, she would have to wake up and face reality. Tonight, she was facing a lot of hard realities. She was never going to be CEO of International. And she and Christophe were never going to be together.
Chapter 18
5 Months Later
Christophe massaged his temples, his elbows on his desk. It was well past one in the morning, and he was still in his office, working. The lamp cast a harsh light over his paperwork, and the stinging in his eyeballs told him it was probably time to stop. But he wouldn't. He didn't want to go home. He'd rather sleep on the sofa in the corner than go home to his empty, dark apartment. He leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath, feeling his muscles relax. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. The past months had flown by. The days were always busy and full of activity. It was the nights that were killing him slowly. They seemed to drag on and on, the minutes lasting hours. He would lay awake night after night, staring at the ceiling. The only way he could sleep was if he had a drink—or two or three—before bed.
He rubbed at his eyes and sighed, letting his mind go. He thought about Paris, and the last time he'd been truly happy. It wasn't long before Annata's image came to him. Tonight, she was in the bathtub at the ski resort, her skin wet and glistening. Her nipples were barely visible over the line of the water. He ran his hand over the surface of the water, so close to touching her...
His phone rang, and he sat up. His heart jumped in his throat when he saw the number. Annie. He debated not answering, but in the end he couldn't resist.
“Annata St. James. Long time no see,” he said.
“Christy?” Her voice was music to his ears, but something was wrong. He leaned forward on high-alert.
“What's the matter, baby?” he said.
“My sister Toni was in an accident. The hospital called.”
“What happened?”
“She was in a cab. I don't know.” Her voice broke, and there was silence for a minute.
“What do you need me to do?” h
e asked, standing.
“I hate to ask. After how things are between us.”
“Nevermind. What do you need me to do?”
“She's at Columbia-Presbyterian. Can you go and see her and make sure she's okay? I can't talk to her,” Annie said, sounding miserable.
“I'm on my way.” Christophe grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his chair without another thought.
***
Christophe knocked on the door to Antoinette St. James's room. It had taken a little finagling to get in to see her, but he'd pressed on, until the nurses believed he was actually a family member. A little charm went a long way, he mused. He saw Antoinette's foot, hoisted up in a sling as he entered the room. The girl in the bed opened her eyes and looked up at him. It was like a kick in the gut. She looked exactly like Annata, down to her golden-brown eyes. She was leaner and younger, her body lithe like a dancer, but the resemblance was uncanny. He touched his chest, a shock of pain radiating between his ribs. The girl furrowed her brow, confused. He cleared his throat.
“Hello Antoinette. I'm Christophe Van der Kind. Your sister sent me.” He held out a hand and she shook it with her unbandaged hand.
“Hi.” She said, her lips cracked and her voice hoarse.
“What kind of trouble did you get into, huh?” He took her in. Her right hand was bandaged with gauze, and her ankle was in a cast. There were a couple scrapes and bruises, including a particularly nasty gash on her forehead. But over all, she looked like she was in one piece. Antoinette shrugged.
“I don't really remember,” she said. Christophe didn't think she was telling the whole truth, but he didn't push her.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I'm okay. They gave me something so I don't feel any pain.” She glanced down at her ankle, then looked away. “How do I look?”
“You look terrible. Absolutely terrible,” he said, giving her a smile. She smiled back, and again, it struck him how much she looked like Annie.
“How do you know my sister?” she asked, cocking her head. “You look like one of those guys in the society pages.”
“I am one of those guys. I work with Annie. Well, we used to work together.”
“I like your suit.” she said, eyeing him. He suddenly felt like he was under the microscope.
“You have your sister's taste,” he said, looking for his phone. “You want to talk to her?” Antoinette nodded vigorously.
“I don't know where my phone is. I'm going nuts without it,” she said.
“Here.” He pulled up Annie's number and placed the call before handing her the phone. Antoinette put the phone to her ear and he watched her eyes light up when Annie answered.
“Nat, it's me...I know.” Antoinette started crying, tears rolling down her her cheeks. “I'm okay.” Christophe moved toward the door, wanting to give them privacy. “Christophe is here, he said I look terrible,” Antoinette said, smiling through the tears. “She says you're a jerk and not to listen to you,” Antoinette said to Christophe. He couldn't help but smile. Same Annie.
“I'll be right out here, okay?” he said, stepping outside into the hallway and pulling the door closed behind him. He leaned against the wall, rubbing his eyes. Suddenly, he felt more tired than he'd felt in a long time. Seeing Antoinette had been too much of a shock for his system. She was so much like her sister, and it made him yearn for Annie. As much as he liked to pretend that he was getting over her, the fact was he was just as in love with her as ever. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been angry and hurt, and there was nothing he could say or do to fix it. Since then, he'd been trying to honor her wishes and leave her alone. Every time he was tempted to fly to Hong Kong and find her, he forced himself not to. She wanted space; he'd give her space. But he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to stay away. Every day was like an endurance test, and he was getting closer and closer to losing.
“Christophe!” He heard Antoinette's muffled call, and returned to the room. “She wants to talk to you,” Antoinette said, holding out the phone. Christophe took it.
“Get some sleep, Antoinette. I'll check in tomorrow, okay?”
“Wait, Christophe?” Antoinette said, her eyes already drooping. “Tonight, a firefighter pulled me out of the wreck. Do you think you could find out what his name is? For me?”she asked, in a sleepy voice.
“Absolutely. Now go to sleep,” he said, slipping out of the door. Once in the hallway, he put the phone to his ear. “Annie?”
“Thank you so much, Christy.” Annie's voice was more relaxed now, and he felt relieved. “How does she really look?”
“She's a bit banged up, has a broken ankle but that's the worst of it.”
“She's devastated. She didn't say it, but I know she is. She might never dance again,” Annie said, her voice low.
“Oh,” Christophe said, not knowing what to say.
“But she's alive. I couldn't ask for more.” Annie was silent for a moment. “I feel so far away right now.”
“Well, baby, you're pretty damn far away,” he said, his eyes stinging again. “Look, I'll come tomorrow and check on her. I'll make sure she has a car home when they discharge her, and her prescriptions filled. And the best orthopedic surgeon to look at that ankle.”
“Christy...thank you,” she said. Silence descended between them and he listened to her breathe for a moment. He wanted to say so many things, but he didn't. “I'll...talk to you later, alright?” she said and Christophe nodded.
“Alright,” he said, then he hung up.
Chapter 19
1 Month Later
Annata stepped into the foyer of the restaurant and swept her eyes across the dining room. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until she saw him. He was sitting at the bar, those broad shoulders unmistakeable. All the air in her lungs came out in a whoosh. She studied his profile as he lifted a drink to his lips. He was just as handsome as ever. Not seeing him for six months had only made him look better in her eyes, if that was possible. She ran her hand through her hair, then made her way over to him.
“Can I get a vodka tonic, please?” she asked the bartender as she slid into the seat beside him. His eyes widened, then a smile spread across his lips as he recognized her voice. He set his empty tumbler on the bar and slowly turned to her. She smiled back at him, hoping to appear more confident than she really felt. “Christophe Van der Kind.”
“Annata St. James,” he said, resting his head on his hand. The lines on his face relaxed as he studied her. He was happy to see her, she realized. Thank God. “How long have you been back, and why was I not aware?”
“Don't worry, you don't have to fire anyone. I flew in this morning, and found out where you were from your assistant.” The bartender set her drink on a white napkin and slid it over to her. She gestured to Christophe. “Put it on his tab.” The bartender nodded.
“I guess they're not paying you much in Hong Kong,” he said. “One more for me please,” he said to the bartender.
“They're paying me enough.” She took a sip of the drink. Hong Kong had been a windfall for her, actually. She finally had enough to purchase her townhouse. But she didn't tell him that. She didn't want him to know she was planning on returning to the city just yet. “I'll get dinner, if you'll have me.”
“Oh, I'll have you,” he said, under his breath. She licked her lips, feeling the tingle of the lime from her drink. “So.”
“So.” She slipped off her purse and hung it on the back of the barstool. She adjusted her dress and crossed her legs, her knee brushing his.
“Are you still mad at me?” he asked, his eyes making a slow sweep from her ankle to her face. The bartender returned with his drink. Christophe thanked him, his eyes not leaving her face.
“No.” She shook her head, embarrassed as she remembered her outburst last New Year's. Her anger had subsided, but the hurt remained. “The writing was on the wall as soon as you came back from Brazil. I just didn't want to admit it.”
&n
bsp; “You had every right to expect that my father would honor your commitment to International. It was a shitty thing he did.”
“It wasn't all William's doing, as I remember it.” She took another sip of her drink. Christophe worked his jaw, but said nothing. “But I've moved on. And you've done well. I have to admit, for awhile, I was hoping you'd fall flat on your face.” She smiled at him, and he chuckled. She gave him a once over. He carried an aura of power now that he'd only hinted of before. He seemed bigger, like he owned the room. “Success suits you.”
His smile dimmed. “I'm not going to say I don't like being successful. It's been hard and I've earned every inch I've gained. The old man doesn't let anything come easy. But I'd be lying if I said that I'm happy.” He took a deep drink.
“Well, no one said business makes you happy,” she said, lightly. “But it's something to do.”
“You know what kills me?” He sat up, loosening his tie. “You think you want something so bad, and then when you get it, you pour yourself into it, lose yourself in it, and in the end—it doesn't mean shit.” He drummed his fingers on the bar. Annata clenched her hand, resisting the urge to touch him. “How's Hong Kong?”
Annata cleared her throat, unprepared for the change in the conversation. “Um, well it was great. Beautiful actually. The weather was amazing, and there was so much to see.” She hadn't had to focus on herself at all in Hong Kong. There was so much to do and so much stimulation. She barely had time to feel, let alone think about New York. But at night, when it was quiet...she shook her head. That was past. “I liked consulting. It's not as all consuming as running a company. Not that I'm not ready to get my hands dirty again.”
“So you have a new job on the horizon?” Something flashed behind his eyes.
Kiss of Ice (St. James Family) Page 15
