Kiss of Ice (St. James Family)

by Parker, Lavender

  “Christophe—,” she began.

  “Don't give me some bullshit answer. Tell me why we're not together.”

  “Because I need to focus on my career right now,” she said, carefully.

  “Focus on your career? How's that working for you?”

  “How's it working for you?” she shot back.

  “It's not working. I'm fucking miserable. Do I have to spell it out for you?” He dropped his head into his hands. She set her drink down on the coffee table and scooted over to him.

  “I'm sorry, Christy. I'm sorry,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. Her throat clenched as she fought her rising emotions. Not now, she told herself. Please, not now.

  “Don't be sorry,” he said, his voice thick.

  “Fine. I'm not fucking sorry,” she shot back, a tear running down her face.

  “Goddammit, Annie.” He swiped at his eyes. He stood and slammed his glass down on the table. He turned his back to her, rubbing his face. She stood as well, wiping her eyes carefully, trying not to smudge her mascara. She smoothed down her skirt with shaking hands.

  “I'm going to go,” she said. She moved toward the elevator.

  “No,” he said and rushed around her, blocking her path. “I still love you, Annie.”

  “Get out of my way.” She tried to push around him, keeping her head down so he wouldn't see the tears starting to fall in earnest.

  “Do you even care?” He grabbed her arms holding her in place. She fought against him. “Answer me!” He was angry now, his fingers biting into her skin. Her heart was thundering in her chest; her breathing was jagged. She couldn't hold back the tears any more. A heaving sob broke free. He dropped her arms and enveloped her in a rough hug. She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him, sobbing. All of the emotion of the last six months poured out of her, like an unstoppable tidal wave.

  Christophe pressed his face into her neck, holding her tight against his chest. “Don't cry.” He said again, kissing her under her ear. “Don't cry, baby. I'm sorry.” But she couldn't stop. She could feel him lift her up off of her feet and before she knew it, he was laying her down on the bed. He held her against him, massaging her back and shoulders. He must think she was a total basket-case, she thought, as her sobs finally subsided. Embarrassment started to creep in and she pulled away from him, swiping at her eyes. He wiped an errant tear from her cheek with his thumb.

  “I'm definitely leaving now,” she said. Christ. She wished the floor would open up and swallow her.

  “Stay with me tonight,” he said.

  “No, I can't.” She shook her head. After her emotional display, she was completely and totally mortified.

  “Please.” He caressed her cheek again, and she leaned into his touch. “Don't be afraid to show yourself to me,” he whispered.

  “I'm not afraid.”

  “You are. You don't want me to know you.” His thumb traced the line of her lower lip. “Let me in.” He prodded. She sighed, but was silent. “You're tough and smart and beautiful,” he continued, his eyes on her lips.“You make me laugh. I miss you when you're not with me.”

  “Someone else could be those things for you,” she replied, settling against him.

  “I don't want anybody else.”

  “You will,” she said, dropping her head back onto a pillow. He shook his head.

  “No, I won't,” he mumbled as he lowered his head to brush his lips across hers. She tilted her chin, responding to his light touch. Her fingers curled against his shoulder, gripping his shirt.

  “Oh, Christy,” she said. “You make it so hard.”

  “Good. I want to make it hard for you.” He kissed her again, his lips soft and smooth. She drank in the smell of him, the feel of him. He was intoxicating. She knew that this night would soon be over and then she would be alone again. But until dawn, she could pretend that she was his, and that everything was right with the world. She would be strong again tomorrow.

  He sat up and slid his hands down her ankle. He freed her of one shoe, then the other. He kicked off his own shoes and laid back beside her. She turned on her side and he cradled her against his chest. They lay there for what seemed like hours, his even breathing tickling the skin of her shoulder. Slowly but surely, she felt the nervous tension leave her muscles. For the first time in months, her body fully relaxed. She closed her eyes and let herself drift into unconsciousness.

  ***

  Christophe opened his eyes, a sharp metallic noise wrenching him from the deepest sleep he'd had in awhile. His hazy mind took a minute to grasp what the sound was, but as soon as he realized it was the elevator, he bolted upright. He was in the bed alone. Annie was nowhere to be seen. Blinking his eyes clear, he jumped out of bed and jogged toward the elevator. There she stood, her purse on her arm, attempting to pull the lever to close the heavy metal doors. He smiled at her posture, leaning forward on high-heels, trying to put all of her strength into it. She looked up and saw him.

  “Don't just stand there. Help me. I'm going to be late for my meeting!” Annie scolded.

  “Fuck your meeting.” He crossed his arms.

  “I'm serious, Christophe.” She pulled again on the lever and then released it, stamping her foot. “This goddamn piece of shit elevator!”

  “You have to caress it,” he said, stepping over to her. “Make love to it.” He smiled, advancing on her until she backed against the metal wall. He put his hands on either side of her head, pinning her there. Before, he'd been content to have her for one more night. Now he was greedy. He didn't want to let her go. “Fuck your meeting,” he repeated. “Stay with me.”

  “I'm going to my meeting. It's very important.”

  “When are you done with this mysterious meeting?”

  “I don't know, by the afternoon.”

  “Have dinner with me.” He dipped his head, brushing his lips across hers.

  “I don't think so,” she mumbled between kisses. “I haven't seen my sister since I've been back.”

  “Bring her to dinner.” He kissed her again, this time deeper. She leaned into him, a small moan escaping her throat. “I'm not letting you go until you say you'll meet me.”

  “Jerk,” she said, a small smile on her face.

  “Say it,” he whispered.

  “Okay. Dinner tonight,” she said, rolling her eyes, even though she smiled. He kissed her again. She drew her hands up his back, her fingernails sending sparks up his spine. She moved into him, her tongue teasing his. At her touch, his cock hardened painfully. After six months, his body yearned for hers. He wanted her, badly, but he wasn't going to push her. He knew she was still hurting, and he only wanted to make her feel safe with him again. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, but she still held him.

  “Christy,” she murmured. “I have to go.”

  “Let me go then,” he said, with a chuckle. After a beat, she dropped her hands. He stepped back into the apartment, never taking his eyes off hers. He pulled the lever right outside the elevator in the front of his apartment. She gave him a bit of a wave, mouthing 'goodbye' as the doors closed. He swore he saw a change in her eyes. She looked almost sad. He was tempted to wrench the lever and re-open the doors, but he forced himself to let her go. The doors closed finally and he stared at them for awhile. The image of her in the yellow dress waving goodbye was burned into his brain.

  Christophe showered and dressed slowly, not quite wanting to leave the loft for work. For her, he gladly would have stayed in bed all day. But now that she was gone, he needed to busy his mind at the office. He could still feel her in the space, as if she were still there, or was going to return shortly. When he was completely dressed and had no reason to left to dawdle, he still returned to the bed. He ran his hand over the sheets, and he could have sworn her warmth was still lingering there. Telling himself he was being an idiot, and that he would see her that night, he pulled the sheet up, hastily making the bed. And that's when he saw the earrings.

  He swept the pearl bau
bles off the table into his palm. They were intricately designed studs, mounted with diamonds and pearls. He ran his finger over one of the diamonds, pressing a sharp edge into the pad of his thumb. He smiled. The devil on his shoulder told him that now he had something to hold over her. Now, she would have to see him again. He dropped the earrings into his pocket. Whistling a cheerful tune, he grabbed his briefcase and headed to work.

  Chapter 21

  “I'm sure I don't have to tell you this after all we've seen, but you'll need to use your imagination,” Jenny Chin, Annata's realtor, said as she pushed open the door to the brownstone. The location was within the area Annata could afford, on the upper end of the Upper-West side. The area was sleepy, not as fashionable as other neighborhoods, but it was well-established and close to the stability of Columbia University. She took out her handkerchief and dabbed at her brow. The day was hot, and after stepping out of Jenny's air conditioned BMW, the heat seemed to be amplified. She was glad she'd worn light linen pants and a camisole that day, instead of her heavier suit.

  “It's listed at a lower price than the last one, and in slightly better shape, but it'll be an almost complete rehab,” Jenny went on as they stepped into the foyer. It took a few seconds for Annata's eyes to adjust to the dark interior of the brownstone. Jenny closed the heavy mahogany door behind them. The foyer was old-fashioned, with wood floors that would need to be redone, louvered paneling on the staircase and walls, and the original moldings. Annata almost squealed in delight. Her imagination was suddenly in overdrive. Gone would be the dark peeling wallpaper. In its place—fresh new paint and a fancy chandelier. “Upstairs are four bedrooms and one bathroom.” Jenny stepped forward through french doors into the next room, and Annata followed her.

  Sunlight forced its way through the heavy dusty shutters that covered all the windows, and Annata could barely make out the dimensions of the room. Sheeted furniture was placed haphazardly around. “Here we have a formal living room adjoined with a formal dining room,” Jenny said. The room was surprisingly cool for the heat outside, and Annata stepped across the room. She wrenched open a shutter, and light flooded the space. Again, the moldings and the wood floor were original. The windows were big and the panes contained old wavy glass. Annata couldn't contain her smile. She imagined flower boxes in the windows and comfortable new furniture in the space.

  “Are the owners desperate to sell? What's the story?” Annata asked.

  “It's an estate sale with a motivated, out-of-state seller. Which is very good for you as a buyer,” Jenny replied. Annata nodded, the house looking better and better in her eyes. She hadn't really had a specific dream home in mind when she started her hunt, but this brownstone was pretty close to what she would consider perfection. It was in decent shape, but she would be able to put her touch on it and truly make it hers.

  “Let's see the kitchen,” Jenny said, moving through a wide doorway into the next room. Annata already envisioned knocking down the wall into the kitchen and opening up the space. She walked through the entrance and immediately made up her mind about the house. She didn't have to see anymore. The kitchen hadn't been updated since the thirties, it looked like. There was a big farmhouse sink and glass paneled cupboards covered in greasy, peeling paint. The linoleum floor was cracked in some places, and bowing in others. The room was small, but light poured in from a grimy bay window on the right wall. Any one else might have looked at the kitchen and thought it needed to be completely gutted, but not Annata. The plucky room reminded her of her granny's kitchen. It felt homey and well-loved.

  During the house-hunt, she was worried she wouldn't be able to find anything in her price range on her tight schedule. Now that she had found it, she didn't want to hesitate. “Jenny, draw up the paperwork. I want to make an offer,” she said. Jenny's brow furrowed.

  “Don't you need to see the upstairs bedrooms? And remember, there's only one bath. You said you wanted two.”

  “I'm sure I can put another bath in.” Annata waved her hand. The excitement was surpassing her normally cautious demeanor.

  “Let's just see the upstairs first and then I'll write up your offer, if you're still interested,” Jenny said, with a smile. The upstairs rooms did little to curb her enthusiasm. The rooms were small but contained details original to the house, including glass transom windows above the doors. Annata didn't waste time signing her name to the offer paperwork Jenny had prepared on her tablet. The brownstone was narrow and needed work, but she had found it. She had found her new home.

  Annata watched Jenny's BMW disappear down the street, leaving her alone on the sidewalk in front of what she hoped would be her new home. She stared up at the plucky little brownstone and smiled. Sarah Jane. Sarah Jane seemed like a good name for the house. She took a quick picture of Sarah Jane with her phone and sent it to her sister. Laughing at her own silliness, she dialed Toni.

  “Guess who just made an offer on a house?” she asked, as soon as her sister picked up.

  “Oooh! Where is it? I want all the details,” Toni gushed. Annata knew that Toni wanted to join her in the house hunt, but wasn't able to, due to her continued reliance on crutches after the accident. There was a muffled sound on the other end of the line. “I just got your text,” Toni said. “Oh, it's so cute! I love the stoop.”

  “It's on 97th and Riverside drive,” Annata said. “It's a great block, with lots of trees. I'm close to both Riverside and Central Park.” Annata began walking down the street, wanting to check out the rest of the neighborhood.

  “Now, you know you have to have a guest room just for me,” Toni said. “When I'm dancing again, I'm going to need a crash pad closer to Lincoln Center.” A bit of scared uncertainty had crept into Toni's voice. The doctors still weren't sure how she would heal after her accident. But Annata chose to ignore that, and focus on cheering her sister up.

  “Well, maybe when the house is all fixed up, you could leave that shitty apartment and come live with me.”

  “Hey! I like my shitty apartment,” Toni said.

  “You do not. And I can assure you, you'll love living closer to work.”

  “You'd really let me stay with you?” Toni asked, her voice unsure.

  “Of course.”

  “I'm sure we would end up plotting to kill each other,” Toni said. Annata neared the end of the block, and realized a french bakery was on one corner, a coffee shop on the another.

  “A french bakery, Toni! We're going to get fat together.” Annata glanced in the window and marveled at the pastries and cakes beautifully arranged in the cases.

  “Speak for yourself.” Toni said.

  “I'm dragging you down with me.” Annata said with a laugh, as a text came through. Annata pulled the phone away from her ear and the air went out of her lungs. Dinner tonight. 21st st and 7th ave. 8 sharp. She stared down at the text, an array of feelings hitting her. She heard Toni on the line speaking, but she didn't register the words. “Listen, I'll give you a call back later.” She said. “Alright, Dear?”

  “Roger that,” Toni said. “Bring me some pastries!” Annata laughed and hung up. Her smile died when she remembered Christophe's invitation. She worked her teeth against her lip. Part of her was rearing to go. That was the part that wanted to tear his clothes off and suck his dick and fuck his brains out. The other part of her wanted to stay as far away from him as humanly possible. She was still hurting and angry and sad. And she knew that if they met for dinner, they would meet again when she was back for good from Hong Kong.

  And that was what really scared her. Her feelings were so strong for him already. She couldn't imagine what would happen if she actually fell in love with him. She didn't want to end up like Uncle Richard—ruined and broken by a love gone bad. Love was hell for a woman like her, a woman that didn't want it and didn't know how to control it. The members of her family fell hard and fast, like Granny said. She thought it was best for her to bow out now, before things got out of hand.

  Staring longingly a
t the french delicacies, she gave in and went inside the shop. At least she could drown her sorrows in a puff pastry.

  ***

  Three hours later, Annata sat in an '80s era lawn chair on Toni's roof, a beer in her hand and a greasy bag that used to contain French pastries at her feet. She stretched her legs out, crossing her ankles on the edge of the railing. Toni sat next to her, licking the cream off of the last pastry, her crutches propped next to her. The fiery sunset rendered both of them silent as they appreciated the view. The summer city stretched before them, restless and ready for anything.

  “Oh my God, this is to die for,” Toni said, inhaling the rest of the confection. “I'm going to have to work my ass off to get back in shape.”

  “Don't worry about it,” Annata said. “You're a born dancer. It comes natural to you.”

  “Maybe.” Toni winced as she adjusted her leg. “But I think how hard I work has something to do with it.”

  “Of course. You're never going to be the best—,” Annata began.

  “Unless you're better than everyone else,” Toni continued, reciting their father's favorite phrase when they were growing up.

  “Thank you, Rodrick St. James.” Annata lifted her bottle and clinked it with Toni's.

  “Did you accept that job yet?” Toni said.

  “Not yet. I'm negotiating the salary,” Annata took a gulp of her beer. Mirabelle cosmetics, the #3 brand of cosmetics in the world, had offered her the CEO position. Buying Sarah Jane hinged on finding a job based in the city and Mirabelle offered that for her. Also the company was female-friendly, and had a good corporate culture. It seemed like a perfect fit. Annata just had to play a little hardball before she accepted the position. And, if she was completely honest with herself, she didn't want to accept the offer too soon. She didn't want Christophe and William to know her every move just yet.