Black Frost Winter: The Black Seasons Book Two

by Lenai Despins

  They veered onto a main road bustling with evening traffic. Leo maneuvered it with stealth, weaving in between honking cars with the skill of an assassin.

  “That’s the Arc de Triomphe,” he yelled.

  The monument towered in the middle of the famous roundabout like a king with vehicular servants running about his feet. The scale of its central arch made it seem like a doorway to a magical, celestial world. Alexia stared up at it in awe, her grip loosening around Leo’s waist. He mistook this as a request to go faster, and the bike whipped into the roundabout, flying around the circle at a fearless speed. Round and round they went without exiting, wind slapping their cheeks in punishment for how hard they travelled into it. But adrenaline pumped a warmth through Alexia, both terrified and thrilled. The longer they circled the monument at a devilish pace, the more she understood Leo’s earlier words. The bike was made for speed.

  Even so, she was grateful when they finally slowed to turn off the roundabout.

  “Having fun?” Leo called, now that she could hear him again.

  Too breathless to respond, she squeezed his waist, fingers molding into the firm contour of his stomach. Leo’s laugh floated into the night, instilling her with a new thrill that had nothing to do with speed. She blinked hard, trying to capture a mental picture of the moment that she never wanted to forget.

  The bike slowed further before coming to a stop in a back alley that was a little too dark for Alexia’s liking. At first she thought he must have taken a wrong turn, but when Leo dismounted, she looked around suspiciously. There was only a steel black door in front of them, surrounded by graffiti-covered brick walls. An ideal spot for a first date if he was a serial killer about to remove her kidney. With growing nerves, she glanced farther down the alley, but there were no other points of entry besides the grungy black door.

  “Are you coming?”

  Alexia shifted indecisively. “We’re here?”

  “Almost.”

  He extended his hand like he was helping her out of a carriage. Seeing his dimpled smile return coaxed her to accept it. She swung her leg over the body of the bike, removed her helmet, and shook out the jitters in her legs. Half of her expected Leo to turn toward the street, thinking the alley was the only place he could find a parking spot, but he wasn’t angled in its favor. His broad shoulders were pointing in one direction—the sketchy door.

  A tremor found its way into Alexia’s voice when she asked, “Where are you taking me?”

  Leo narrowed his eyes, capturing her full attention with their smouldering arrest.

  “To where I store the bodies.”

  The absence of joke in his tone made Alexia’s palms grow clammy. He didn’t reassure her as he knocked a rhythmic sequence on the door. The moment Leo withdrew his hand, a peep hole Alexia hadn’t noticed before slid open. Two harsh eyes glared down at them.

  “Nom?” the man asked in a gruff voice.

  “Leo Durand.”

  The peephole shut with an aggressive bang, and the steel door creaked open.

  Alexia blinked in confusion at the sight before her, which was far from the derelict warehouse she’d expected. The room they entered was small, the size of an average bedroom. At the front, a security guard was seated on a barstool, his sizeable thighs draping over its wooden edges. The carpet was a rich merlot beneath the stool’s legs, a refined color that radiated class. At the far end of the room was an elevator that looked like it had been restored from the 1920s. Its button was already illuminated, and by the time they reached it, its doors opened with a sharp bing.

  “Bon appétit,” the guard grunted as Leo swept Alexia into the elevator’s mirrored interior.

  She giggled at their reflection, hair sticking out every which way. She ran her fingers through her own strands before reaching for Leo’s. Her hand froze at his neck, unsure of how receptive he would be to her touch. But unable to lower her arm in a way that could pass as natural, she was forced to go on. Leo’s mouth curved into a smile when her hand found his hair, bending down to give her easier access.

  “Hope you like French food,” he winked.

  “Most of it,” she replied, reluctantly lowering her hand.

  “What didn’t make the cut?”

  “Snails.”

  The corner of Leo’s mouth drooped with disappointment.

  “Guess I should have asked you that before taking you to a restaurant that specializes in escargot…”

  Her stomach dropped. “Seriously?”

  When he grinned to show he wasn’t, Alexia shouldered him playfully.

  The elevator sounded again, and its doors swooshed wide. The sight on the other side stunned her more than the one downstairs. Laying eyes on the restaurant, it suddenly clicked that the exterior was an intentional deterrent. This was one of those places, so exclusive, that word-of-mouth was all the marketing they needed. They had similar restaurants in New York. The kind where even celebrities were required to join the waitlist. The main body of the restaurant wasn’t visible from the alley where they had entered, but its height and shape would have been hard to miss on the opposite side. It was a glass dome, capturing all the socialites dining underneath like exquisite insects in a jar. Beyond the glass, Paris awaited every diner’s wandering eye, ready to dazzle them with its impressive sights. Alexia’s gaze drifted to it, its romantic allure overwhelming.

  Her insecurity rose as a few diners turned to watch them enter. Their eyes were hungry at first, as if eager to see a person of gossip-worthy fame. Some lingered on Leo like they were trying to place him from memory, but disappointment was found easily in their expressions when their attention shifted to Alexia.

  “Is this one of your regular hangouts?” she asked, for some reason whispering.

  His laugh had a modest ring. “To be honest, no. It’s more of my father’s scene. Gets a bit…stuffy for me. Although the food and the view make it worthwhile.”

  Unspoken words lingered at the end of his sentence, and Alexia found the audacity to say them.

  “Worthwhile when you’re trying to impress a date.”

  He looked at her, eyes turning green as they caught the light above the hostess booth. He cloaked one with a wink.

  “Is it working?”

  Alexia’s gaze drifted back to the restaurant, observing it with a studious eye. Sure it was glamorous, with its sweeping city views and lavish clientele, but it wasn’t really her scene. Deborah’s scene, definitely, but she just felt out of place.

  Not wanting to upset Leo, she masked her true feelings with an answer that evaded the question.

  “You had me from bonjour.”

  Her eyes locked on him, and the roar of conversation dwindled to a standstill as the room faded from focus. Leo’s irresistible smile called her to his lips. Succumbing to their charm, she leaned in, mouth tingling.

  The hostess appeared from nowhere, interrupting the moment. She made no apology, just tapped impatiently on the computer screen.

  “Nom?”

  “Leo Durand.”

  “Par ici,” she replied, stalking off to the back corner like she was leading troops into battle.

  Alexia leaned into Leo’s ear as they followed. “She takes her job very seriously.”

  He nodded gravely. “As she should. To think she could seat someone incorrectly at any moment. Place them at the wrong table. Ruin their entire night. What a catastrophe!”

  Alexia giggled, but stopped dead when the hostess shot an icy glare over her shoulder.

  “I forgot to tell you,” Leo said, dropping his voice further in a mock dictatorship tone. “There is no laughing allowed. We are to discuss business and politics only.”

  “How romantic.”

  It was a fair assumption that Leo’s father contributed a pretty penny to the restaurant, for they were led to the best table in the house. It was situated against the glass wall, instilling diners with the feeling that they were eating on the edge of the world. Even though there was no real dan
ger of falling, Alexia inched her chair away from the nauseating drop. The movement wasn’t lost on Leo.

  “You don’t like heights?”

  Alexia shook her head, freeing a few more strands from her bun.

  Without a further word, Leo called to the retreating hostess, and said something in French.

  She listened carefully, her expression not shifting from its rigid mold. When he finished, she replied before beckoning them over to a more central table.

  “I might subject you to boring conversation, but I won’t subject you to your worst fear,” he explained as they moved.

  Alexia’s embarrassment was eradicated by her amazement at Leo’s chivalry. “I’m surprised they even have a spare table.”

  “They don’t, but the hostess explained any of her later bookings would be thrilled to have the best seats in the restaurant. Although I guess that statement is relative. One man’s trash is another’s treasure…”

  “Glad I could be of service.”

  Leo caught her eye and held her gaze for a second too long. The moment passed as they fell into their new chairs in front of expensive-looking table settings.

  “So have you always been afraid of heights? Or was it triggered by something?”

  Alexia fiddled with the corner of the leather-bound menu on the table. “I’ve never particularly liked heights, but I guess it was made worse by one event in particular.”

  She trailed off, sucked into the terrifying memory of the moment she was nearly thrown off a cliff to her death in her last year of high school.

  Leo pulled her back to the present when he placed a hand over hers.

  “Are you okay?”

  For the first time, there was no hint of mockery in his tone, but Alexia only nodded, wanting to bury the past.

  “I’m fine…now.”

  The arrival of their server put an end to the discussion.

  “En anglais, s’il vous plaît,” Leo requested.

  The server replied with a crisp French accent. “Certainly. May I start you off with something to drink?”

  Both men looked to Alexia first, who wanted nothing more than to crawl under her chair. She wondered how many guests didn’t order wine at an establishment of this esteem. However, her desire to be fresh for the following day’s rehearsal remained at the top of her priority list.

  “Sparkling water, please,” she said with more confidence than she felt.

  Leo, being a perfect gentleman, ordered the same.

  When the server was out of earshot, he grinned, “So not fully recovered from yesterday, then? Fooled me.”

  “Turns out, wine inhibits my ability to dance.”

  Leo cocked an eyebrow. “Then you’re very different from the people I meet in nightclubs.”

  She opened the menu with a grin, which faded the second she scanned the printed words. Even the English translation of every dish read like a foreign language. She’d never heard of half the ingredients. Giving up, she glanced back at Leo.

  “And what about you, any fears?”

  “Of course, doesn’t everyone?” He tugged on his earlobe gently, as if deep in thought. “In a way, I’m envious of yours. Not to belittle it—being afraid of heights is completely sensible. Our bodies weren’t made to withstand falling long distances, so that fear is almost a good thing, an instinct to keep you alive. But more often than not, you can avoid it. Step away from a ledge, move to a back table. Mine is not as easy to remove myself from.”

  Alexia had been too absorbed in the rhythmic sway of Leo’s voice to notice the server return with drinks. When her attention broke downward, it was drawn to the polished glasses that had been added to the table. She took a sip of her water, bubbles tickling her throat.

  “And what is that?” she asked

  His hazel eyes glazed over in a dark cloud of thought.

  “Becoming like my father,” he said at last, voice turning grave. “You can avoid heights, but not your own blood.”

  Alexia returned her drink to the table. “Is he that bad?”

  “Depends on your definition of the word. He’s not a criminal, if that’s what you mean. In fact, he’s the most law-abiding man I’ve met. But that doesn’t make him a good one. He’s selfish—ruthless in getting his way by whatever means necessary. One of those people who doesn’t care who they walk over to reach their destination.”

  The conversation prompted Alexia to reflect on her own parents. They weren’t perfect by any stretch, and there were even times when Alexia could classify them as selfish. But that was more of a byproduct of aloofness than being intentionally malicious. She couldn’t imagine speaking about them in the same hateful tone that Leo referred to his father with.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she replied with sincerity.

  “Yes, well, at least we’re doing well at following the no laughing rule.”

  He raised a hand through his tousled hair absently. When he dropped it, a shadow of a grin had returned. “Must be why I’m single. Never was much of a conversationalist.”

  Alexia eyed him with intent. “Actually, this is the most real conversation I’ve had in a long time.”

  The brightening of his face exposed him in a new light—the same light in which Alexia saw herself. Leo didn’t belong to this world of fancy soirées, fine wine, and glamorous people. It might have been his father’s world, but it wasn’t his.

  Wrapped in that thought, Alexia leaned across the table so she could drop her voice to a whisper.

  “What do you say we get out of here? Take me somewhere you really want to be.”

  Silence fell over the moment as Leo looked at her like they were connected by some cosmic force, destined to have met.

  A cough made them twitch. The server must have been standing beside them for an awkward length of time.

  “Are you ready to order?”

  Leo pulled out his wallet. “Actually, we won’t be staying. I’m not feeling well.”

  He pressed a few bills into the man’s hands. “For your troubles.”

  The server glanced at the notes to ensure they covered the water. Alexia hadn’t seen the numbers printed on the bills, but she thought she saw the server’s brow raised in delight when she pushed back her chair.

  Leo clasped her hand as they weaved back through the cluster of tables, causing a thrill to rush through her. Not only from his touch, but because of the situation itself. They were turning down the opportunity to dine at the latest it restaurant in Paris, a restaurant she bet had a year-long waitlist without the right connections, and they were doing it with pleasure. They may not have had the enduring attention of the other diners when they’d entered, but they definitely had it as they left. Scandalized murmurs followed as they passed, although Alexia couldn’t understand a word of them.

  Leo translated without waiting for her to ask.

  “Half of them think we’ve had a fight, and the other half are wondering if the prices sent me running for the hills.”

  “A fight could be fun,” Alexia winked. “Should we give them a bit of a show? A drama teacher once told me I’m an excellent fake crier.”

  The suggestion planted something wild in Leo’s eye, and before she had time to really think her proposal through, he dropped her hand like it was on fire. Leo then proceeded to shout French at her, not loud enough to cause an embarrassing scene, but loud enough for those they passed to hear. As his brow creased with falsified anger, Alexia’s face crinkled with pseudo tears.

  The hostess flicked up her head when they reached her peripheral vision, and Alexia almost blew her cover to laugh at the horror on the woman’s face. In an effort to save the restaurant from scandal, the hostess was at the elevator in a flash, stabbing the button that promised to remove the two ticking time bombs from the scene before disaster struck.

  The reaction encouraged Leo to raise his voice, and unable to understand the words he lashed at her, Alexia couldn’t help becoming aroused.

  Deborah was right. French
really is an attractive language.

  Words rolled off his tongue with a pleasing twist, passion embedded deep in his fury. Soon, all Alexia could think about was his tongue. A wave of desire rolled through her, so intense that she forgot their game, and her tears came to an abrupt end. Thankfully, enough damage had been done that when she flew into the elevator, no diners were any wiser. Her cheeks were black with dripping mascara, and her eyes, although not swollen, were red. Her gaze dropped to the floor as she waited for the door to close. Leo, however, never broke character. She could feel his enraged stare beating down hard on her neck. Only once did she glance up, unable to resist one last look at the restaurant. She was glad she did. People were staring at them with their mouths open so wide it was like their cheeks had been hooked by invisible lines of fishing rods.

  Alexia was robbed of the sight when the mirrored doors slid shut.

  Her tears returned. This time from laughter. Leo caught her waist and their bodies tangled in a fit of hilarity. Alexia closed her eyes, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. When they opened, Leo encompassed every inch of her sight. His face was so close the warmth of his breath tingled her face. He wasn’t laughing anymore; his expression pulsed with the same desire that coursed through her. She didn’t remember leaning in, all she remembered was the ecstasy of his lips finding hers with a hungry longing. Her mouth parted, inviting him in, and his tongue responded. It found hers with tantalizing pressure, unleashing a wave of pleasure over her that made her knees grow weak. His hands on her waist were the only reason she remained upright.

  The elevator stopped. Before they had time to pry themselves apart, the doors opened. Leo pulled away, but kept one hand on her back. Thankfully, the security guard hadn’t witnessed their lusty embrace. He faced the steel door entrance with unwavering eyes. Those inside weren’t of concern to him; his job was to manage the people without. Only when Alexia and Leo were directly beside him did he acknowledge their presence.