Kiss of Ice (St. James Family)

by Parker, Lavender

  ***

  It was over. Christophe could finally admit it now without feeling like he was having a heart-attack. A numbness settled over him as he showered for work. She'd shown herself to be the cold, unyielding woman that he had always feared she would be. She could be warm, funny, luminous...when she let her guard down. And soft and lovely...he banged his forehead against the glass shower door. Pain rocketed through his body. He would rather feel the external pain than the inner pain that was flaring up. If he had a choice, he would prefer to be completely numb. He forced himself to focus on the throbbing of his head and not not think about HER as he lathered up. He scraped at his skin with the wash cloth, wanting to wash off the stink of that morning. Eventually, the warm, penetrating water of the shower relaxed the pain away. He let his mind go blank.

  Christophe dressed, humming a nameless tune to himself. He picked out the navy suit and a black tie on auto-pilot. On his way to the office, he read reports and caught up on business that had been festering for days. He answered calls and conducted business like a champ. At the office, he breezed through, greeting his co-workers and plastering a smile on his face. He flirted with the pretty intern, and had lunch with The Old Man, who kept the conversation going with business talk.

  Days passed. Weeks passed. He barely registered the passing time. After a particularly long day, he watched the sun go down from his desk chair. Eventually, the phones stopped ringing, and the office fell silent. He poured himself a drink and sat in the dark until he heard a small knock on his door. He flipped on the desk light. “Come in.” Christophe called out. The pretty intern stuck her head inside, then stepped all the way in as she opened the door. He searched his brain for her name. Linda? Luisa?

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, unsure.

  “I'm not busy,” he said, flashing a smile in return. Her face relaxed and she stepped further into the room.

  “I have the final list for the Christmas party. I was told you needed to approve the guests.” She lifted a red binder. He waved her into the room and held out his hand. She strode forward. He noticed she had long legs and a tight skirt on. One of those kind of skirts Annie wore. He remembered shoving the tight wool skirt up Annie's thighs when he'd had her up on the desk. The intern wore a white blouse, not tight, but he could still make out the sway of her breasts beneath the fabric. She was pretty, maybe even beautiful. He thought how easy it would be to make a move on her, to be an unscrupulous asshole. Seven years ago, he would have done it. Shit, one year ago, he would have done it. No questions asked. He would have seduced her and had a good time while it lasted.

  Christophe felt the binder in his hand and then she was walking away from him and closing the door. He turned off the desk lamp again and turned his chair back to the window. More time passed, he wasn't sure how much. He had a drink or two or three. Finally he turned back on the desk light. The red binder stared him the face, and he flipped through a few pages. No surprises. He could just approve it, without going further. But he kept reading, not wanting to admit what he was looking for. Curiosity urged him on, and he ran his finger down the pages, actively searching. And there she was. Ms. Annata St. James +1. He threw the binder across the room, the crash as it hit the floor oddly satisfying.

  Christophe stood and grabbed his coat, wanting to get the hell out of there. He was going to go home and go to sleep like a normal person. He was going to make himself act normal until he became normal again. He was almost out the door, but stopped. He bent and picked up the binder. He knew that The Old Man wished Annata could be there. Even Miranda might like to see Annata. But he also knew that there was no way in hell Annata would come. A harsh smile curved over his lips when he thought about how she would react to receiving the invitation. That thought was enough. He quickly scrawled 'Approved' on a Post-it and slapped it on the front of the binder. Then he left the office before he could change his mind.

  Chapter 25

  A week later, Annata turned the gold-leafed invitation to the International Christmas party over in her hands and sighed. She wonder who'd decided to include her on the list. Was it William, Miranda, or Christophe? She sat back in her chair, studying the fancy invitation. William, definitely, she decided. A rueful smile crossed her lips when she thought about how much things could change in a year. A year ago, she'd been the one who approved the guest list for the Christmas party and Christophe hadn't even been invited until the last minute. And now she was the outsider looking in.

  Sitting forward in her chair, she pressed the call button on her office phone. Her assistant answered within seconds.“Yes, Ms. St. James?” Ellen said.

  “I need William Van der Kind on the line, please.”

  “Right away.” Ellen hung up and Annata leaned back again. She rotated in her tufted leather chair and faced the floor to ceiling windows that looked out over Midtown Manhattan. The Mirabelle office was right in the thick of the city. If she looked hard, she could see William's office window on the 50th floor, ten blocks away. She wondered which office Christophe occupied. Maybe her old office, she mused. Wouldn't that just beat all?

  She pulled up the calendar app on her phone. She made a note of the date of the Christmas party, still not sure if she would attend. She had six weeks to decide. The holidays were right around the corner, she realized. This year, she was planning a big Thanksgiving dinner. Her cousin Holland would be back in the city, on military leave. Toni was bringing some friends from the ballet. At least she would be busy, and not focusing on all the emotional shrapnel that was embedded in her life.

  The office phone rang. Annata took a deep breath and answered. “Hello, Annata St. James,” she said into the receiver.

  “Ms. St. James, William Van der Kind is on the line,” Ellen said and clicked off. Annata let a moment pass before speaking again.

  “William?” she said, her voice sounding small to her ears. She steeled her spine and sat up straighter.

  “Annie,” William's voice was warm and friendly. “It's good to hear from you. Truly.” Annata smiled in-spite of herself. She was glad to hear his voice as well.

  “I thought it was about time to break bread. Especially since you seem to be taking the high road, and inviting me to the Christmas party.”

  William chuckled on the other end of the line. “You got the invitation? A little on the gaudy side, but who am I to deter Miranda when she wants to 'help'?”

  “If it were up to you, it would be covered in santas and reindeers.”

  “I like it old-fashioned, unashamedly. I'll take Norman Rockwell any day over that pomp and circumstance Miranda favors.”

  “I know.” Annata felt her smile fade as she realized how much things had changed, and how she wished sometimes they could go back. But this was finally a first step, she thought, to gaining back her relationship with her mentor.

  “It wouldn't be a proper Christmas party without you,” William said. “I hope you'll consider attending.”

  “I'm considering it.”

  “We'd be happy to have you.” William cleared his throat. “Since you happened to call...may I ask a personal question, my dear?”

  Annata leaned forward in her chair, a ripple of alarm running down her spine. “I suppose so.”

  “Christophe—I know he wasn't who you thought should take over International in my wake, but he's exceeded my expectations. And I know there's some bad blood between you two.”

  “What are you getting at, William?” Annata chewed on the edge of her thumbnail. Catching herself, she forced her hand down.

  “I hate to make you play psychiatrist, but I wondered if I could pick your brain. Why do you think Christophe feels the need to run away from his family?”

  Annata took a deep breath, debating how to answer. “I think he used to feel like he didn't have a place. I know he used to feel jealous of our close working relationship. He had a need to please you, but felt like he was always lacking.”

  “But he's proven himself now.”

&nbs
p; “True. He has an undeniable talent.” Annata felt a stinging in her eye, and blinked. She had always told Christophe what a failure he was. Her words at last year's Christmas party echoed in her mind. She had been terrible to him because she was scared. And she had been so wrong.

  “He's taking time off. Two weeks for Christmas, on top of going away for Thanksgiving. And he won't tell me where he's going,” William sighed. “I feel like every time we take a step forward, we still end up two steps back.”

  “Don't take it personally, William.”

  “How can I not? My son doesn't want to spend the holidays with me.”

  “Maybe.” Annata took a moment, trying to figure out how to answer. “Maybe he just needs some time to himself. When—the last time I saw him, he seemed stressed. Has he been drinking more often?”

  “Yes. Rarely without a drink in his hand after hours,” William stated, matter-of-factly. “And he won't talk to me.” Annata worked her lip, her curiosity flaring up. Where was Christophe going? Back to Brazil, maybe? She wondered why. “I don't know exactly why you and Christophe have issues, but I can guess.” William continued. “I know you always felt threatened by his presence.”

  “Well, I wasn't wrong to feel threatened, was I?” Annata couldn't resist.

  “Touché,” William said. “I wondered if maybe you could talk to him. He likes you, maybe he'll open up to you.”

  “No. No!” Annata felt the word bursting from her lips, more forcefully than she would have liked. “I don't want to get involved.” She paused. “Why do you think he likes me?”

  “He's never had an unkind word to say about you. He's told me to my face that I'm to blame for the estrangement between you and I. And he thinks I should have chosen you as my successor.” William said. “In all honesty, I think he may have fancied you at some point. He definitely respects you.” William chuckled. Annata felt her throat constrict. William seemed to think that Christophe having a thing for Annie was a trifle. She wondered how he would feel if he ever found out the truth.

  “What makes you say that?” she asked.

  “I don't know. You're not exactly his type. But Miranda seems to think so. You know how she is.”

  “Oh,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

  “Please, Annie?” William asked. “Maybe at the Christmas party? I just want to spend whatever time I have left with my family.”

  “William! You're healthy. You have time lots of time left. Don't be silly,” Annata scolded.

  “Look at Jean Pierre. None of us are promised tomorrow,” William said, his voice sounding far away. “Annie, please?”

  Annata sighed. The thought of being in the same room with Christophe made her feel sick. The pained look in his eyes that day in the park...it cut her to the core. He must hate her now for hurting him like that. And now he was running away to God knows where. Running again. Her heart ached. “I'll talk to him,” she said, her voice small.

  ***

  Thanksgiving morning, Annata barely had time to think. From the moment she got out of bed, she was on the go. She and Toni mashed potatoes, rolled pie dough, and boiled collard greens and ham. The smells emanating from the kitchen filled her soul with happiness and reminded her of the holidays back home in Louisiana. When the guests began to arrive, pies cooled in the bay window and the turkey roasted in the oven. Toni poured wine and they all toasted to good food and good friends. As Toni and her friends laughed and chatted, Annata drifted out onto the small back patio with her glass of wine, telling herself she needed some air.

  She pulled her sweater on and sat on the swing, tucking her feet under her. She looked through the kitchen window, at Toni smiling and lively. She was happy that Toni was having a good time. Her sister had finally lost the crutches, and was moving around much better. Someone turned on Nina Simone, and the music wafted out onto the patio. Toni did a smooth ballet turn in the kitchen, her arms held above her head gracefully, her friends clapping and cheering her on. Annata smiled. Toni was born to dance, and nothing made her happier than seeing her sister in her element.

  Annata took a sip of her wine and glanced down at her phone. No calls from him, no text messages. She wondered where Christophe was at that moment. William said he was going away on a secret trip. She wondered if Christy was alone, or with someone. Was he having a good time? She sighed and swiped her hand across her forehead. There was no use in speculating. She was just torturing herself.

  “What's up, Cuz?” A deep voice broke through her thoughts. She looked up, and found her cousin Holland walking toward her.

  “Holland!” She jumped up and threw her arms around him, her wine splashing. She hadn't seen her cousin in a few years, since his last military leave. She would never get used to how manly he looked. He was tall and built, with a shaved head and almond- shaped eyes. He was dark, darker than she, despite the fact that his mother was Vietnamese. He was almost 8 years younger than her, and she still thought of him as the gangly kid who spoke in ebonics and used to run the streets in Harlem until all hours of the night. But, thankfully, that Holland was long gone. Too bad his sister Vivica hadn't been as lucky to completely escape the hard life their mother had introduced them to.

  “I can't believe you live here,” he said, after they'd settled back on the swing. “It's a damn mansion.”

  “Oh please. You've been overseas too long,” she said with a smile. “It's very modest.”

  “Whatever you say, Cuz,” he said, glancing around.

  “What did you bring? I know you didn't think you were coming to eat and run.”

  “Toni told me to bring rolls. Oh, and a can of cranberry sauce. Nothing too difficult.”

  “Well, be prepared to be amazed. Toni and I cooked up some magic in that kitchen.”

  “So what are you doing hiding out here?”

  “I needed some air,” she said.

  “You look sad,” Holland said. “When you have your favorite cousin sitting next to you and a big-ass pan of macaroni and cheese on the countertop, what is there to be sad about?” He grinned, his teeth white in the dark night. Annata sighed.

  “I'm glad you're here. Are you back for good?” She took a sip of her wine, avoiding the question.

  “I''ll be out soon.” He stared off. “I have some unfinished business in the city, and then maybe I'll end up down south, I'm not sure.”

  “You know Toni and I want you to stay up here. But Granny would love to have you down there, as well.”

  “We'll see,” he said. Annata could tell he was holding back on something. She wondered if that unfinished business had to do with finding his mother.

  “If you're going to go looking for your mother, I can help. I know a private investigator. Just say the word.”

  Holland shook his head. “No. I don't want to turn over that rock.” Annata looked at him, long and hard. His face was an unreadable mask. She wondered what mysteries were swirling around in that head of his. Then he smiled at her. “So, why are you sad?'”

  “I'm not sad.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Is it a guy? If he wronged you, I'll beat him up,” he said.

  “There's no guy. I don't have time for that shit.” She waved her hand dismissively.

  “Uh huh.” He gave her the side-eye, not believing her. “I see how you keep checking that phone,” he said.

  “What about you? Any special girl in your cross-hairs?”

  Holland's smile faded and he shrugged. “No. No girl.” Annata bit her lip. Something was definitely going on with him. She drained her glass and stood.

  “Come on, Sergeant St. James. Your hand looks empty. Let's get you a drink.”

  ***

  Christophe sat on the balcony, staring out at the dark ocean. It was Thanksgiving night and he was alone. He'd fled the city that morning in an attempt to avoid Miranda's holiday extravaganza. He couldn't take it. The peaceful sound of the waves hitting the beach in the distance was the only sound he needed, not a loud party filled with society's
elite. He lifted the drink to his lips and savored the iced liquid flowing down his throat. Puerto Rico was definitely his speed at that moment.

  The warm breeze swept across his bare chest and he sighed. He was almost completely at peace. Almost. There was something missing. Always something missing. He wondered what she was doing that moment. He checked his watch. One in the morning. She was probably asleep. Alone in that big bed of hers. Well, he hoped she was alone. The thought of her with another man was too much to bear. His brain couldn't even fathom that possibility. He shook his head, clearing it of the dark cloud of rising anger. He didn't want to be angry. He wanted to be close to her. He closed his eyes, dropping his head back.

  The breeze kicked up again, and he imagined her next to him, her hair blowing softly. Topless, in a sarong, he decided. Perfect tits, heavy, but improbably unaffected by gravity. Smiling at him in that way she did when he amused her. Her perfect ankles propped against the balcony railing. He shivered, goosebumps rising on his skin. His fantasy stretched on, and he imagined them waking up at dawn and making love as the sound of the ocean waves drifted in. His cock was hard as steel and he let his free hand stroke it as the visions played out in front of his eyes. Her name echoed in his mind, and formed on his lips. He came in his hand, hot, sticky, and unsatisfying.

  Sighing, he stood and wandered back into the hotel room. He washed up in the bathroom, avoiding his own eyes in the mirror. He didn't want to see how tired and red they must be. He flipped off the lamp and dropped face-first on top of the sheets. He whispered her name into the pillow. Why couldn't he get over her? He'd asked himself that question everyday for the last six months. Shit, he'd been asking himself that for the last seven years. It didn't matter what he did. He closed his eyes, willing sleep to come.