“He’s cute,” Carrie mouthed.
It encouraged Alexia to steal another look at Leo. His eyes were bright, drinking in the scene like they were rehydrating a mind parched of visual stimulus. Although Alexia didn’t actually think that was the case. He lived in Paris after all; one stroll down any street would provide enough inspiration to sustain a creative soul for a lifetime. And Leo did look like the creative type—a poet of sorts.
Conversation was slow to come back into focus, but Alexia didn’t mind, happily lost in daydreams. It had been too long since she’d lusted over someone to this extent.
“Pffff,” Deborah was saying to the man on her right. “You haven’t had a martini until you’ve had my martini.”
“Shall we do, what do you call it…a taste comparison?” he asked, challenging her gaze.
“A taste test! You’re on. Chloe! Oh, Chloe! Does your boyfriend have any gin?”
Her words cut through the cultivated air like heavy metal music blasting through a meditation class. Alexia cringed, gulping down her last sip of France’s finest wine faster than it deserved to be drunk. She sought Chloe with an apologetic expression, but the principal dancer seemed only amused by the whole affair.
“I don’t believe so, but it’s an easy enough problem to fix. I’m sure Marque will run out and get some, won’t you?”
She patted her boyfriend with a firmness that seemed more demanding than loving. If Marque was irritated by the forced offering of his services, he wore his poker face well, turning to the door with the obedience of a well-trained dog.
“Wait up,” Leo called after him. “I’ll come with.”
When Marque smiled, his face lit up like an outline of a painting that had just been colored in. Alexia stole a backward glance at Chloe. They were a gorgeous couple. A combined beauty worthy of regular smearing across the tabloids.
Leo followed Marque out the door just as Carrie appeared at Alexia’s side.
“Guess I owe you an apology,” she said. “This is surprisingly fun. I haven’t spoken much to Chloe, but her friends seem nice enough.”
“I think Deborah would agree with you on that one.”
Alexia nodded to the sofa where Deborah was snuggled up to the man who had challenged her to a martini duel. They weren’t lip-locked yet, but their heads were pressed so close together that it would only be a matter of time. Deborah’s shoulders were hunched forward in a position that exaggerated her cleavage, and the man’s eyes dropped without mercy whenever the opportunity presented itself. Alexia didn’t blame him. He was only human.
“Don’t worry,” Amy said, joining her friends. “Chloe said he’s single.”
“Not anymore,” Carrie laughed.
“You mean not tonight,” Alexia corrected. “Tomorrow will be a different story.”
They all snickered this time, Amy’s laugh carrying above the others. When it died, she motioned to the kitchen. “Chloe said to help ourselves to more wine. It’s good, isn’t it?”
The slight slur to her speech made Alexia do a double take. Her friend’s complexion was reddening by the second, and her eyes were uncharacteristically glassy. As they made their way into the kitchen, Alexia scanned the room for other eligible bachelors.
“See anyone you like, Amy?”
She rolled her head carelessly. “Haven’t looked yet.”
Alexia bit her tongue to stop herself from laughing. You will soon.
Squirming away from being the topic of the discussion, Amy asked, “So what were you and Ken talking about?”
“Not you too,” Alexia replied with a threatening glare. “Leo and I may or may not have been discussing dinner plans tomorrow.”
A chorus of “ooo’s” ensued before Amy’s true self poked through her intoxicated state.
“But then what?” she asked in a dire tone.
As Alexia’s buzz developed, her earlier resolve to not drink was forgotten. She lifted her replenished glass while simultaneously raising her eyebrows. “I guess we’ll see where the night goes.”
“No, I mean, then what? He lives in Paris, and you’re in America.”
“Oh relax,” Carrie cut in. “It’s not a marriage proposal. It’s just dinner.”
“Is it? Alexia, I haven’t seen you smitten with anyone since—well, I know I never actually saw you and Xander together, and I’m sorry to bring him up, but just the way you spoke about him…you lit up. And I haven’t seen that look in your eyes since. Until tonight.”
“Are you referring to when she looks at Leo or Chloe?”
Alexia glowered at Carrie’s teasing smirk.
“Chloe’s nice,” Amy replied before lowering her voice to add, “although I don’t see what all the fuss is about. She hasn’t done anything that’s really blown me away.”
“Because you haven’t seen her dance,” Alexia replied, exasperated.
Amy raised her hands in the air, wine splashing dangerously close to the rim of her glass in the motion. “Okay, okay. I’ll refrain from commenting until after the performance.”
“Thank you.”
Alexia’s reply was curt. Hearing it aloud, she winced, wondering why she was being so defensive of Chloe. The question was abandoned when Amy interrupted her thoughts.
“Want me to break them up?”
Alexia followed her head flick to the sofa, where Deborah and her recent catch were twisted in a pretzel of limbs, oblivious to everyone else.
Mortified, Alexia turned to Chloe, praying she hadn’t seen. She had, but thankfully Chloe seemed unfazed by the foreplay unfolding in her boyfriend’s living room, smiling humorously before shifting her attention back to the crowd she was gathered with. Irrespective of how blasé their host appeared, Alexia marched across the room to pull them apart.
She had hoped her presence would be enough for them to stop, but the two lovers remained intertwined. Hovering over them awkwardly, Alexia tried a more forceful approach.
“Debs, can you maybe save this for the bedroom?”
Deborah carried on like she had heard nothing. Fortunately, the Parisian had more decency. After discernable hesitation, he unglued himself from Deborah’s face.
“Désolé, Mademoiselle,” he apologized to Alexia.
They had separated in the nick of time. Alexia turned to find Leo and Marque returning from their venture with two bottles of Citadelle in hand. She wasn’t alone in noticing their entry.
“Ooooo, martini time!” Deborah shouted, nearly stumbling on her four-inch heels as she raced to grab one of the bottles from Leo.
He didn’t give in without a fight, straining his arm high above her grasping fingers.
“Only if you promise to make me the first drink.”
“Deal,” she cooed, batting her fake lashes until the object of her desire was in hand. The second it was, she strode into the kitchen.
“Pierre!” Deborah barked like she was preparing to go to war. “It’s show time.”
Pierre stood from the sofa, hair ruffled in all directions, and eyes glazed over with the “deer in the headlights” look that Deborah summoned so effortlessly.
With a tiny pang of anxiety, Alexia glanced at Leo, searching for the smallest hint of desire in his expression as he watched Deborah stalk off. But incredulity was the only one apparent.
His focus suddenly shifted to Alexia. When it did, his face blossomed with all the emotion she’d sought a moment before. Unable to repress a smile, Alexia invited him to the kitchen with a tilt of the head.
No one could tell the difference between Deborah and Pierre’s martinis, although everyone dubbed Deborah the winner, afraid of what might happen if they didn’t. Pierre didn’t seem to care. Alexia put it down to him knowing luck would be on his side that evening in an area that mattered more—the bedroom.
With the aftereffects of the gin sinking in, the atmosphere warmed until Alexia was numb to the winter air blowing in through the window. Someone turned up the music to a volume that penetrated her skin and
circulated with her blood. She closed her eyes, swaying to the beat. A light pressure curling around her waist made them reopen. Leo filled her sight, his arm snaked around her. He was getting more handsome by the minute, and she struggled against the urge to lean in for his lips.
“We’re going up to the roof. Care to join?”
Alexia’s head lolled as she nodded, depicting her unintentional drunken state. Leo’s soft laugh resonated through her ears.
“I’m going to have water first. Would you like one?”
God, he was perfect. Polite enough to ask if she wanted one…even if insinuating that she should definitely have one. It reminded Alexia of Mrs. Beaumont’s gift of persuasion.
She indulged Leo with another nod, trying to keep her head more aligned. He returned with a glass that she emptied in three gulps, and the next thing she knew, they were following the herd of people out the door and up the last stretch of stairs. Leo’s hand never left the small of her back.
When Alexia stepped out onto the rooftop, a blast of cold air hit her like a slap of soberness. Carrie, Amy, and Deborah’s silhouettes were painted against the far railing. Spotting her with a backward glance, Carrie waved.
“Alexia, come quick! The view is incredible!”
Leo squeezed her hand before she left him to venture over to her friends. She slowed the closer she came to the edge, mouth drying with fear. A couple of feet from the railing, she stopped all together.
Deborah yelled at her to hurry up.
“I can see fine from here,” Alexia replied, voice tottering with nerves.
Deborah wasn’t having an ounce of it. Marching back, she grabbed Alexia’s arm and yanked her forward.
“Come stand with me. I want to look over the city of love with you.”
Alexia dug her heels into the tiles. “Don’t you want to look over the city of love with Pierre?”
Her words and resistance were lost on Deborah, who tugged until Alexia was overpowered. “No, I want to be in the city of love with Pierre. More accurately, in a bed in the city of love. But I want to look at it with you.”
“What about me?” Amy shot through the sparkling winter night.
“Definitely not you,” Deborah replied, lips curled up in a pesky grin.
Amy reached around Alexia to punch Deborah’s arm.
“Alright, enough. Now, look!”
Alexia swallowed her fear of heights to cast her gaze over the edge of the roof and into the soul of Paris. The Eiffel Tower protruded high above everything else, watching over the city like a sentinel frozen in time and space. Stone buildings reflected white moonlight in an ethereal glow. It wasn’t reality, it was a waking winter dream.
Alexia sighed as her pulse returned to a steady rhythm. She stole a sidelong glance at her friends, whose faces were alight with the sheer joy of adventure—of being alive in that moment together.
Unfortunately, a moment was all it lasted.
“This is great, but I’m cold. Let’s go in,” Deborah said.
Amy caved, lips billowing in a quick trill. “Fine, but let’s get a snap first.”
At the mention of a picture, Alexia kicked herself for having taken so few since she arrived. Her eyes darted about, searching for Chloe, the person she wanted one with more than anyone. But it didn’t seem right to ask—too schoolgirlish. Maybe she’d feel differently at the end of the week, after they’d gotten to know each other better. Besides, she was too drunk to take any quality photos tonight, and if she took one with Chloe, she’d probably have it framed. Best not to capture her current state for all of eternity.
“Smile,” Amy said as her friends crammed their faces around Alexia’s for a selfie.
Too late.
The flash was blinding, leaving white stars in Alexia’s vision long after the camera was lowered.
Between blinks, she noticed a figure coming toward them. Leo’s creamy voice filled the night air.
“Let me take one so you can at least get the background. Not that it’s any more spectacular than the sight of you ladies.”
The four friends burst into a fit flattered giggles as they wrapped their arms around each other to pose.
Before he snapped, Leo explained the French say “ouisiti” instead of cheese.
The girls nodded.
“Ready? One, two, three—”
“Ouissssiitiiii!” they cried in terrible, slurred accents.
Leo took a second one as they erupted into genuine laughter. After he passed Amy back her phone, he made no move to retreat. Leaning against the railing, he looked over the city as though seeing it for the first time. Alexia wanted nothing more than to be tucked in the crevice of his arm, gazing out at the magical sight together.
As if connected by some sixth sense, he turned to her, digging for something in his pocket.
“Will you take a photo with me?”
The thrill of his words overshadowed any sense of embarrassment Alexia might have felt as Leo handed Carrie his phone.
“I’m not going to wind up in a gossip column tomorrow, am I?”
The question was intended to be sarcastic, but as soon as it slipped from Alexia’s mouth, it hit her that she knew nothing about him. She had no idea who he was, what he did for a living, what he did for fun, or even his last name. The only thing she knew was that he ran with an elite crowd. And not just any elite crowd. Chloe’s elite crowd. To have found a place in the principal dancer’s inner circle, Alexia gathered he must have been of some importance.
“No, no,” he reassured her with a quick chuckle. “I just wanted a memory of the night in case you stand me up tomorrow and it’s the last time I see you.”
She turned to him sharply, the mere suggestion clamping her with alarm. Her feelings must have been readily apparent for he interjected with discernable relief on his face.
“Maybe I was being presumptuous.”
Gazing into his eyes with all the words she was too afraid to say aloud, Alexia smiled. She held her expression long after Carrie snapped the photo, in part because Leo’s arm hadn’t left her waist.
Amy shuffled uncomfortably. “Right, I’m going in.”
“One step ahead of you,” Deborah replied, literally one step ahead of her. “You coming Carrie?”
“I’ll catch up. Just want to enjoy the view a bit longer.”
Reassuring Alexia that she wasn’t going to stick around as a third wheel, Carrie added, “I’m going to go find Chloe.”
The second her name was mentioned, Leo’s smile vanished. As Carrie left them, Alexia could have sworn he said, “Just don’t get too close.”
It was a strange thing to say, and she mulled over his intent until it hit her.
The edge! Of course. He meant to not get too close to the edge.
Alexia shook her head as she looked up. They were alone again. Leo shuffled even closer to her, and her breath caught in her throat. She struggled to find words—any words that would tear her from her thoughts of his lips.
“How…how do you speak English so well?”
Leo shrugged like it was nothing impressive. “I went to immersion schools growing up, and most of the jobs I’ve had over the years required it. International language and all…tends to come in handy.”
“But it’s not just you. Everyone seems to speak perfect English.”
“In the big cities, yes. And most young people everywhere, now. I have to admit, I’m a bit envious of you. Must be nice to not have to learn a foreign language, to just speak your native tongue and have everyone understand.”
“Well, I’d rather speak French than English. It sounds much nicer.”
He shifted his eyes, now brown in the moonlight, over the amber city.
“I can teach you some if you like. But only the big, extravagant words that will really blow people away. None of this, “Merci beaucoup” crap.”
“That would be great,” she said with a hint of sarcasm. “Instead of learning the practical things like how to ask for directions,
or order from a menu, I’ll just repeat extravagant words like a pretentious parrot.”
“A beautiful parrot,” he corrected with a wink.
Alexia opened her mouth to reply, but when no words came out, she closed them again. With each blink, Leo seemed to be getting closer to her. The sound of the world washed away under a torrent of blood in her ears. This was it. Her eyelids dropped in slow motion. Through the darkness, she leaned in, waiting to meet his lips. Anticipation pulsed through her like an electrical charge.
“Alexia!”
The shout was so loud that even her thundering heartbeat couldn’t silence it.
Her eyes twitched open to find Leo had jerked back at the noise. A respectable gap now distanced their mouths, no longer in adrenaline-pumping proximity.
Her name was called a second time, and her annoyance ebbed when she identified the voice. Chloe. Her syllables traversed the rooftop in an entrancing melody that coaxed Alexia’s attention away from Leo.
The principal dancer was huddled with Carrie, both eyeing her, evidently the topic of conversation. Raising a hand clad in burgundy leather gloves, Chloe waved her over. Alexia responded without hesitation. She was halfway to them before she realized Leo hadn’t followed. But he never saw the questioning look she shot back at him; his eyes were elsewhere, victim to Chloe’s call too. He was staring at the principal dancer with an intent gaze, as if searching for something in her that only his eyes could detect. Pinching her eyebrows together, Alexia tried to process the exchange, but he didn’t give her long to study it. The next second Leo’s eyes shifted back to Alexia as if they’d been there all along.
“I’m going down for a refill. Would you like anything?”
She shook her head, dizzy with lingering confusion.
Black Frost Winter: The Black Seasons Book Two Page 6