“I have some offers on the table. I'm just figuring out which way I want to go.” She waved her hand, dismissive. “But I'm headed back to Hong Kong in two days, for another month.” She left out the part that she was looking at real estate in the city for the two days she was grounded. In fact, she had already seen two townhouses in Harlem that day.
“Two days?” he asked.
“Today and tomorrow,” she said. He chuckled to himself, but the sound was devoid of humor.
“And you've penciled me in for dinner tonight?” He drained his glass.
“I thought we could have dinner, yes.” Annata could tell he was angry. She reached out and finally let herself touch him. She wanted him to know that she wasn't trying to stir up past emotions. She just couldn't NOT see him, no matter how desperately she wanted to be over him. As soon as the plane touched down, his name kept echoing in her mind. It got louder and louder until she called his assistant and found out where he was. She let her fingers brush his wrist. He stilled under her touch. “I wanted to see you,” she said.
“Why?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.
“Because,” she said, searching for the right answer. “Because I didn't like the way we ended things.”
“You ended things,” he said. “You moved across the fucking world and didn't talk to me for six months. Well, except for a call in the middle of the night when you needed me to do something for you.” He shook his head, looking everywhere but at her. Annata leaned closer to him, wanting to keep their conversation as private as possible in such a public place. She could already see people glancing at them out of their corner of their eyes. And she was pretty sure they all knew who Christophe was.
“I was angry. And I apologize. You know how thankful I am that you could check on my sister for me.”
“Fuck you, Annie,” he said, turning away from her. Then he turned back. “How dare you come in here and act like we're just two people in a bar. Like we're just shooting the shit. 'My life is great! How's yours? Oh, that's wonderful.' It's bullshit. It's fucking bullshit.” He motioned for the bartender. Annata bit her lip to stem the tide of words that were trying to force their way out. She did not want to have a blow out in public. “Check. Please,” he said to the bartender. She saw her exit.
Annata grabbed her purse and slid out of her chair. The heat of the summer night hit her face as soon as she stepped out of the cool restaurant. She walked blindly, not knowing where she was going, just wanting to get away from him. A hand grasped her arm and whirled her around.
“You're not getting off that easy,” Christophe said, his face inches from hers. “This is your night. You planned it. Where are we going for dinner?”
“You're making a scene,” she bit out, trying and failing to yank her arm out of his hold.
“I don't give a shit. This is New York City. No one gives a shit.” She glanced around at the people walking around them, the flow of sidewalk traffic uninterrupted by their little drama.
“So you're angry at me. You want to yell and scream and stamp your foot. Go for it.” She shifted her hips and steeled herself.
“Goddammit, Annie. Don't patronize me.”
“I'm all ears.” She patted his chest with her free hand. “Go 'head, honey. Tell mama all about it.” She heard the Southern coming up in her condescending tone. But she couldn't stop herself now. She was too angry. He clenched his fist and stepped closer to her.
“You are such a —!” He stopped himself, pressing his fist to his mouth.
“What? I'm such a what?” She stepped to him, getting in his face. “Say it.”
“No. Forget it. And you can forget this quaint little dinner you planned, so that you could assuage your guilt over leaving me.” He dropped her arm and jammed his hands in his pockets. “It's not happening.”
“You think I feel guilty?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I do not feel guilty for breaking up with the man who ruined my life!”
“Give me a fucking break. No one's buying it.”
“My whole adult life, I worked for International. And then you just breeze in and take it all, like I knew you would. You didn't care—about me or anything.” She jabbed him square in the middle of his chest. “So fuck you. Fuck you and your nice suits and your blue eyes and your sense of entitlement!” She could hear her voice rising, and didn't care. “I guess it's my fault for thinking that we—that we could ever—!” She felt her voice breaking as the tears rose annoyingly in her eyes. With a strangled cry, she turned away from him and stalked down the street. She threw up her hand, hoping to hail the first cab that passed.
A yellow cab swerved to the curb and jerked to a stop. She yanked on the handle and threw open the door. He was by her side in a minute, pushing her down into the backseat and following her into the car. He slammed the door behind them. “I really don't think you want to be in an enclosed space with me right now!” she hissed, turning her face to the window so he wouldn't see the tears threatening to fall.
“I think I can handle it.” He leaned forward. “Great Jones and Lafayette.” He barked to the cabbie.
“I am NOT going to your fucking apartment. You can just forget it right now.” She leaned forward. “You can drop me off at Columbus Circle, please.” She told the cabbie.
“You'd rather go to your hotel? Fine. We can do that too.”
“How do you know where my hotel is?” Her eyes widened. “You've had someone following me!”
“Of course I know where you're staying. Jesus Christ. I knew the minute your plane touched down you were in town.”
“Eh...where you want to go?” the cabbie asked, pulling into traffic.
“Columbus Circle!” she said, at the same moment he said 'Great Jones and Lafayette'. She wanted to strangle him. She took a deep breath. “I am not going to your apartment,” she repeated.
“There's a cajun restaurant on Great Jones. It just happens to be down the street from my place.” He sat back against the seat and ran his hand through his hair. “I don't know about you, but suddenly I'm starving.” She pursed her lips. She was hungry. And jambalaya and a cold beer sounded amazing. She gave him a curt nod, agreeing. Damn him!
***
Christophe watched her across the table. The candle on the table flickered between them, illuminating her face with a warm glow. She was calm now, sipping a cold beer under the strands of colorful lights that decorated the cafe. He decided that he loved the yellow dress she was wearing. It was a sleeveless, full-skirted design that accentuated her small waist. She'd lost weight in Hong Kong, he noticed. She sighed, her eyes drifting out the window. He took all of her in. His Annie was home, even if he only got one night with her. He wasn't going to let it go to waste.
“I like this place,” she announced. “It's a lot better than what I had planned.”
“What did you have planned?”
She shrugged. “Some hoity-toity spot with a line around the block.” She leaned forward. “And I had it all mapped out. We would buy an expensive bottle, and you would tell me about your beautiful new girlfriend who you're madly in love with, and how running a Fortune 500 company is so fulfilling. And I would tell you that I love Hong Kong and was thinking about making it permanent. And we would laugh about how silly we were in Paris and how it never would have worked out between us.” She ran her finger through the condensation on her bottle. “And then we would say goodbye and it would be over.”
“Her name is Jennifer, by the way.” He leaned back in his chair.
“Who's name is Jennifer?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“My beautiful new girlfriend who I'm madly in love with,” he said. She tossed a bit of cornbread at him, and he dodged it. “What? We're getting married.”
“That's not funny.”
“Do you think you could help me pick out the ring? I'd love a woman's opinion,” he deadpanned, taking her beer and downing the rest of it. He motioned for the waitress to bring them two more.
“Y
ou're an asshole.” She rolled her eyes. “How do you know I'm not dating anyone?”
“Are you?” he asked, feeling his chest tighten.
“I've dated a little bit.” She glanced out the window again. He clenched his fist under the table. The thought of another man touching her was almost too much. The waitress plunked their beer on the red gingham covered table with a smile. Christophe gave a queasy smile in return. “Don't pretend that you haven't taken anyone home since I've been gone.”
He didn't want to admit anything. He took a gulp of his beer instead. She always brought up other women that he slept with, and he hated it. He knew she used it as a way to prove that he wasn't serious about her, or to make light of the depth of his feelings for her. But he knew that not all sex was created equal. Sure, he may have sex with other women, but he made love to her. He shook his head. He sounded like a real idiot, he thought wryly. “I've never been one to take a vow of celibacy.” He finally said.
“No one asked you to,” Annie said, dipping her spoon in her jambalaya.
“True,” Christophe said. “I've been too busy for any kind of significant conversation, let alone a new relationship. My sex life has consisted mostly of a quick yank in the shower before work, if you want to know the truth.” Annie gave a snort of laughter and covered her mouth.
“So no orgies in the orgy shower?” she said, her mouth full.
“It's pathetic.” He sighed. He didn't tell Annie that when he masturbated, he thought of her lips wrapped around his dick. He thought about her pressed up against the glass window at the hotel in Paris, legs open for him. He thought about making love to her on that goddamn bear skin rug. He fiddled with his tie, suddenly hot around the collar.
“You have my sympathies. I know you're used to pussy on demand,” she said, after a swallow.
“I mean, I still have pussy on demand. Women throw themselves at me every day. I can't walk down the street without having to dodge panties flying at my head.” Christophe waved his hand dismissively. “I just don't have the time. That's the real tragedy.”
“Who knew running a company was so time consuming?” She rolled her eyes.
“Not me.” Christophe shook his head, taking another swig of his beer. Silence descended on them. After a moment, Annie leaned forward on her elbows. She looked at him, her face concentrated.
“Is it that bad, Christy?” she said. A shiver ran through him when his name passed her lips. He took a deep breath, feeling like he was going to jump out of his skin. He nodded.
“It's that bad,” he said softly. The past six months had been hell for him. Everyday was like a new torture for him. Any pleasure he derived from being successful and making his father proud would drain away as soon as he left the office. All that was left was a crushing loneliness. He had found love and he had lost it. Annie was moving on with her life, and he was stuck in the same damn place.
After Annie insisted on paying the tab, they found themselves back out in the muggy summer evening. She fiddled with her purse strap. She glanced down the street, toward the location of his loft.
“Christy, thanks for having dinner with me...” She started and he knew she was trying to make her exit.
“Come upstairs,” Christophe said. “I'll make you a drink.” She shifted her hips and turned away.
“I knew you were going to do this.”
“What?” he said.
“I knew you would try and get me up in your apartment.” She put her hands on her hips. “I'm not going up there.”
“Then we can go to a bar.” He couldn't resist touching her. He slid his hands on either side of her waist, forcing her around to face him. “You owe me.”
“Excuse me? I owe you?” she scoffed. But he noticed she didn't move away from his touch.
“Hell yes, you owe me! Another two hours, half an hour, anything. I'll take it.” He dropped his hands when he realized his fingertips were digging into the soft skin beneath her dress. She glanced down the street. An available cab maneuvered down the cobblestone street, heading toward them. She bit her lip.
“I have an early meeting tomorrow that I cannot miss.” She flicked her wrist to check her watch. “One drink.”
Chapter 20
Annata stood to the side of Christophe in the rickety elevator. She gave him a look as the elevator wrenched and jerked. He stared straight ahead, his hands in his pockets as they rode up. A breeze kicked up beneath them, the hem of her skirt rising. She appreciated the cool air in the muggy metal box, especially since she wasn't convinced the summer heat was the only culprit of the rising heat she felt in her body. She felt like she was marching toward an inevitable outcome. She clenched her jaw. She made a pact with herself to stay strong. No matter what he did, or what he said, she wouldn't sleep with him. If she did, it would be all the worse for her. She repeated that to herself as the elevator ground to a stop.
Christophe pulled the lever against the side wall, and the doors opened with a whoosh. From the door Annata could see his king-sized bed, the gray sheets mussed as if he'd just left them. A flash of the last night they spent in his bed shot through her brain. She remembered his rock hard, naked body beneath hers, as she rode him, the muscles in his neck straining—she blinked, trying to rid herself of the vision. Christophe entered first, pulling his tie over his head and tossing it on the black leather couch. “Excuse the mess. The cleaning lady comes tomorrow.”
“Poor little rich boy,” Annata said, plopping her purse on the couch as well. He tossed her a look over his shoulder, smiling a devilish smile that sent a jolt through her. She went around the couch, walking to the wall. She forced her eyes to focus on his art collection. He seemed to prefer black and white photography, she noticed. She stopped short when a small photograph, framed like it was high art, caught her eye. It was her. Well, more specifically, it was her and William. From the style of her hair, she guessed the photo was taken about seven or eight years ago. They were hunched over William's desk, going over a document together. They didn't seem to notice anyone was taking their picture. She felt a pang of sadness in her heart. After everything, she still missed William.
“I found that picture in my father's desk and decided it would look better on my wall,” Christophe said, his voice behind her. “I assume Miranda took it, probably back when she thought you and The Old Man were having an affair.” Annata's mouth dropped open and then she burst out laughing.
“An affair?!” The thought was almost too ridiculous to be voiced.
“You were his shadow. Everywhere the old man went, you weren't too far behind.”
“He was my boss. And my mentor. Jesus. People need to get their minds out of the gutter.” Annata shook her head in disgust.
“Well you were a sexy little thing back then.” Christophe leaned in to take a closer look at the picture. “I had questions myself.”
“There are so many things wrong with what you just said.” She moved on to the next photo, a shot of subway graffiti. “Fix me a drink and I'll forgive you.”
“Deal.” He moved past her to the kitchen. After a moment, she followed him. A bowl of lemons and limes on the countertop was the only color in the dark space. Ice clinked as he began to mix the drinks. She stood next to him and watched as he muddled a lime into the bottom of a martini shaker.
“What are you making?”
“Caipirinha. Lime, a bit of sugar, and a Brazilian liquor.” He poured a gracious amount of alcohol into the shaker.
“Sounds heavenly.” She hedged over to the fridge and opened the door. All that was in the fridge was beer, a half-empty jar of strawberry jam, and a few containers of takeout Chinese. She smiled. Some things never change.
“What are you doing in there?” he asked.
“Just checking.” She shut the door.
“Checking what?” He poured the drinks into the glasses he set out on the counter.
“I guess Jennifer isn't much of a cook.” She took the drink he handed her.
�
�She's not, unfortunately. Her one flaw.” He clinked his glass against hers and they both took a drink. She suppressed a moan of pleasure as the cool liquid soothed her throat. “It's good?” he said. She nodded. “Come on, sit down. Stay awhile.” He motioned her to follow him to the living room. She did, and when he sat on one end of the couch, she sat on the other.
“So you thought I was having an affair with William?” she said. He threw his head back and laughed. She felt her mouth curling into a smile. It was good to see him laugh again.
“Only until I actually met you. The minute you busted my balls, I knew there was no way.”
“Well I'm glad you granted me your approval.”
“I didn't say I approved of you. But I knew that that wasn't the way you played the game. You were a ball-buster, not someone who would sleep their way to the top.”
“How do you explain me sleeping with you, then? The boss's son, the heir to the throne?”
“Purely a mistake.” He watched her intently. “You had no intention of ever being nice to me, let alone sleeping with me. But then you made a mistake.” Annata drummed her fingernails against the glass, intrigued.
“What mistake? As I recall, you were the one who was in my office and who forced yourself on me.”
“True. Very true.” He smiled, shaking his head. “I was such a little shit.”
“You were a smug little shit.”
He laughed again. “Okay. But you didn't tell me to get out. You kissed me.”
“Maybe that was a mistake,”she conceded, smiling into her drink.
“Would you take it back?” He said, not looking at her. She didn't hesitate.
“No.” She had no doubts. The time she spent with Christophe would forever be etched on her heart. He leaned forward, close to her.
“Then why are we not together?” he said. Annata searched for an answer. She was still hurting over the split with International. Christophe had lied to her and purposely kept her in the dark when he knew the truth. She'd said horrible things to William and couldn't face him again. And her pride. Her damn pride had been shot to hell. She still wasn't healed, no matter how much it hurt to admit that.
Kiss of Ice (St. James Family) Page 16