Breaking the Ice (St. James Family #0.5) (2 page)

Remembering the hole in her pantyhose, Annata stood. She reached under her skirt and yanked the elastic band down. She shimmied the thin fabric down her her legs. Tossing the ruined pair in the trash, she sat and crossed her newly bare legs. She rolled her shoulders, willing herself to relax. She really did have a ton of work to do. She shouldn't let anything distract her. She lifted the coffee cup to her lips and took a sip. The syrupy sweetness of the coffee coated her tongue and she grimaced. Forcing herself to swallow, she choked the disgusting liquid down. Annata stared down at the mug, shaking her head, her cautious thoughts already forgotten.

A laugh bubbled to the surface and echoed in the empty room. The bastard had deliberately ruined her coffee, she realized. Setting the cup down, she turned back to the computer and began typing furiously. Christophe Van der Kind was officially on her shit list, and she was going to enjoy making his life hell for the rest of the summer.

Chapter 2

Christophe kept his distance from Annata for the rest of the day, though she was never far from his thoughts. Even as he flirted with the other pretty girls around the office, he was thinking about the infuriating woman. Annoying Annata St. James was suddenly his main goal for the summer. Getting under her skin was his main objective, and he was confident it would be fairly easy. And she deserved everything that was coming to her.  She was, frankly, intimidating. He had definitely never met anyone like her. She didn't seem to be impressed with his looks, or his wealth. She didn't seem to want anything from him. He wasn't used to that at all. He didn't like it. But he'd show her. The summer was definitely looking up.

Christophe hung around the office waiting for Annata's light to go off and for her to exit her office. He checked his Rolex. 7 p.m. Tired of waiting, he wandered up to his father's office. The door was open, and The Old Man sat at his desk, head bent, reading. A cloud of smoke lingered around his head as he puffed on a cigar unabashedly. Christophe couldn't contain a smile. Since his mother's death fifteen years before, he and his father hadn't exactly been close. But the sight of The Old Man in such familiar surroundings sparked a distant memory of happier times.

Christophe rapped his knuckles on the heavy mahogany door. The Old Man glanced up, and his face creased into a smile.

“
Ho, my boy. I'm surprised you're still hanging around,” his father said, leaning back in his chair. Christophe sat on his father's burgundy leather chesterfield sofa, tossing his arm over the back.

“
Don't be so surprised. I told you I was here to work this summer. And I intend to.”

“
Good. Glad to hear it.” The Old Man took a puff. “How was your first day?”

Christophe shrugged. “Not terrible,” he said, his mind immediately going back to the scene in Annata's office earlier. He ran his finger over the coffee stain on his knee. “I think I'm getting the hang of it.”

“You can stay, you know,” The Old Man said. “No one's forcing you to go to Oxford.”

“
Mother went to Oxford,” Christophe said, uninterested in having this conversation again. His father wanted him to stay in the city, and he'd already made himself clear on the subject. Christophe had every intention of going to London in August, and nothing was going to stop him.

“
That she did,” The Old Man said, staring off. They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

“
So. Annata St. James,” Christophe said, breaking the silence. “What's her story?” The Old Man chuckled.

“
Don't ruffle her feathers, son. She'll make your life hell.” The Old Man's eyes betrayed the admiration and affection he had for Annata. “She's a firecracker,” his father said. “The second I met her, I knew she had the perfect mind for business. Her brain is like a steel trap - she remembers everything and know exactly how to implement it.” The Old Man took a puff of his cigar. “Mark my words, she'll be running a company someday. Soon.” His father paused for emphasis. “Maybe this company.”

“
You'll never give up the reigns to International,” Christophe scoffed. “She'd have to pry them from your cold dead hands.” The Old Man laughed, tossing his head back.

“
You think you know me so well?” his father said.

“
I know I do.” Christophe smiled.

“
Come help me run this company, and I'll give up the reigns. That's a promise,” The Old Man said, jabbing his cigar in Christophe's direction. Christophe felt his chest tighten at his father's words. Living in the city and under his father's thumb was not high on his list of priorities. Corporate culture felt like a noose around his neck. He felt like he did whenever a past girlfriend had brought up the topic of marriage – like he wanted to run and never look back. Pulling his tie loose around his neck, he avoided his father's eyes.

A loud knock on the door sounded, saving Christophe from the fire. He glanced up and his heart rate slowed. Annata stood there, a thick binder under her arm. He caught the tick under her eye when she looked at him, but then any outward sign of anger was gone. He couldn't stop himself from smiling. He felt a thrill run through him – the thrill of victory. She might have gotten him earlier, but soon they would be on an equal playing field.

“Annie!” his father said, waving her in. “I hope that's the Bennington report.”

“
You are correct.” Annie stepped to William's desk and placed the binder in his outstretched hand. “I had them color-code the different aspects of the deal.”

“
Brilliant, as always,” The Old Man said, leafing through the pages of the binder. Annata glanced over her shoulder at Christophe. He wet his lips and dragged his eyes from her face down to her bare legs. She must've trashed her stockings. Her legs were smooth and brown, and Christophe wondered if they would be as soft to the touch as they looked. She narrowed her eyes at him, as if she could hear his thoughts. She crossed her ankles, uncomfortable. He itched to rib her about it, but he held his tongue.

“
I'm going to head out, William. Do you need anything else before I go?” she said, turning back to his father.

“
Go on. Get out of here.” The Old Man waved her out the door, good-naturedly.

“
See you tomorrow.” She turned, her smile fading when she caught Christophe's eyes again. “Christophe.” She gave him a curt nod, her gold earrings catching the light. Then she was gone, out the door with a flick of her long braids. He felt the irrepressible urge to follow her.

“
You, too?” The Old Man asked, putting on his reading glasses. “Will I see you at home?”

“
No. I think I'll head downtown,” Christophe said, already half out the door.

“
Work starts at 8 sharp,” his father raised an eyebrow. “I trust you'll remember that from now on.”

“
Aye, aye captain.” Christophe saluted. Being on time was not one of his strong suits. And if the night went as planned and he found a girl to take back to his place, all bets were off. His heart jumped in his chest when he spied Annata down the hallway. She'd had a head start, but she got caught at the elevator. She jabbed the button impatiently as he ambled up beside her. He saw her stiffen, her back ramrod straight, and he stifled a chuckle.

“
Big plans tonight?” she asked, surprising him with small talk.

“
No. You?”

“
No,” she murmured.

“
Excuse me?” He cupped a hand by his ear, just to be an asshole.

“
I said, I don't have plans.” She stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him.

“
I'm heading down to the bowery,” he said, surprising himself. “If you want to come.” He grinned, thinking about loosening up Annata with a few drinks. He wondered if she was really a wild woman under that buttoned-up exterior.

“
No. Thank you,” she said, jabbing the button again.

“
I'll buy the first round,” he pressed.

“
No,” she said, her voice clipped. A bell rang out, signaling the arrival of the elevator. “Finally,” she mumbled under her breath as the doors opened. Annata pushed forward, beating him inside. She pressed the button for the 9
th
floor. As the doors closed, he brushed against her to press the button for the lobby. She let out a little puff of breath as his arm touched hers.

“
I feel like we got off on the wrong foot earlier,” he said as they began to descend. Annata didn't answer. A light jazz version of
In the Air Tonight
played, undercutting the silence between them. “You obviously have a problem with me. But I haven't done anything to you.” She shot him a sharp look. “Okay, the coffee. But you had that coming.” Annata shifted her hips and crossed her arms, still not taking the bait.

“
What do you have against me? Maybe you hate rich guys,” he paused, thinking. “Or maybe you hate white guys.” He leaned against the wall of the elevator, waiting for her to snap. “No, that couldn't be it. That would be racist.” She whirled around to face him and he couldn't help but smile. Finally.

“
Do you ever shut up?!” she snapped.

“
No.” He laughed, rolling his sleeves up. “You didn't answer the question.”

“
I don't have to answer your idiotic question.” She stepped closer to him, and he felt his muscles twitch in response, gearing up for the fight.

“
So what is it?” he said. “What have you got against me?”

“
What do you care if I like you?”

“
You don't know me.”

“
I read you the second you walked in the door.” She tossed her head, eyes flashing. He noticed -had he noticed before? - that her eyes were a unique shade of golden-brown. Interesting. “Twenty minutes late. Breezing in like you owned the place.”

“
I do own the place,” he said.

“
Correction.
Your father
owns the place,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.

“
It might as well be mine,” he said. “Which is why I don't give a shit about this stupid little job. I'm sorry if it's all you have.” She stared up at him, almost his height but still lacking a few inches. “It's almost pathetic.” he added, for good measure. She laughed.

“
I think you just answered your own question,” she said, looking him right in the eye. “You're an arrogant little boy trying to be a man. That's why I don't like you.”
Damn
.

“
Why don't you tell me how you really feel?” he said, keeping his voice light, despite the flare of anger that shot up his spine. Blood thundered in his ears, and he clenched his jaw. Not able to resist, his gaze dropped to her mouth. Her lips were full and soft looking, and he wondered how she would taste if he kissed her. She slid her tongue across her bottom lip, and he felt his dick jerk in his pants. All of the air seemed to go out of the elevator, and he felt a drop of sweat making a trail between his shoulder blades. The anger was giving way to something else, something... less controllable. He looked her in the eyes again, and she was still staring at him. Then she let out a slow breath and she turned away. He cleared his throat and jammed his hands in his pockets. His heart still beat hard in his chest, but he willed himself to relax. Annata St. James wasn't going to win that easily. The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. He felt a pang of disappointment as she stepped out onto her floor. But he wasn't through with her yet, he told himself. He had all summer. She flipped a braid over her shoulder and gave him a withering look.

“
You mess with me, Van der Kind, you're going to wish you hadn't.”

“
We'll see.” He gave her a wink.

“
I guess we will,” she said. The doors started to close, and he considered stopping them and following her down to her tidy little office. But he didn't. He stepped back and let her go.

Chapter 3

The early summer night was balmy, and Annata decided to get off the train a few stops early and walk a bit. She needed to decompress after the annoying day she'd had. Christophe Van der Kind had taken up residence under her skin.
Condescending, egotistical
a
sshole,
she thought. The little jerk had basically drawn a line in the sand, like he actually had a chance against her! And the fact that she couldn't help but notice how attractive he was did little to help her mood. He was possibly the most attractive man she'd ever met. And it didn't help that it had been a frustratingly long time since she'd been with a man.

Annata crossed Broadway after exiting the 1 train, and headed north towards her apartment. On the way she passed bar after bar, the laughing and rowdy after-work crowd out in full effect. For the millionth time that day, she thought about Christophe. He was downtown this very second, having a drink alone. Well, she doubted he would be alone for long. Annata saw how the women in the office looked at him, like he had a candy-coated dick and they would all love a taste.

Annata considered stopping for a drink for a brief moment, but shook it off. She needed her rest, she decided. She would go home, have a glass of wine and a bath, and be in bed before 10 p.m. Tomorrow would be a better day, she told herself. She would be better; she would be stronger. She wouldn't let anyone fuck with her or get under her skin.

Inside her pre-war apartment building, she clicked up the marble stairs, the jingling of her keys echoing in the quiet. When she reached the landing of the third floor, she stopped short. Sitting in front of her door was a small figure dressed in all black, knees drawn to their chest, a ratty duct-taped knapsack resting beside them on the floor. The kid looked up, her freckled face breaking into a wide smile.

“Nat! I thought you'd never come home.” Vivica, Annata's 17-year-old cousin, stood, brushing off the seat of her jeans. “Girl, I was worried you didn't live here anymore or that someone was going to kick me the fuck out.” Annata stared at her, the shock gradually wearing off. Although she had been in the city for years, she'd only seen her Brooklyn cousins a handful of times. Vivica stepped forward and enveloped Annata in a hug. She smelled of cigarette smoke and alcohol. She felt slight and frail beneath the oversized clothes. Annata pulled back to look at her.

“
What are you doing here? Where's your mother?” Annata fired questions at Vivica, a bad feeling settling in her gut. The bad feeling turned into concern when she noticed a dark bruise under Vivica's eye and across her cheek. “What is that? Did someone hurt you?”

“
I'm fine...” Vivica began, but then Annata noticed the blond hair poking out from under the hood of Vivica's sweatshirt. She shoved it down, revealing Vivica's long curly mane, formerly black, now bleached a shocking white. With her almond-shaped eyes, freckles, wild hair, and caramel skin, Vivica looked bizarrely beautiful, like a creature from another planet.

“
Girl, what the hell did you do to your hair?!” Annata exclaimed. Vivica brought her hand to her head, having the nerve to not look the least bit embarrassed.

“
I needed a change.” Vivica shrugged. “I got tired of the old me.”

“
Oh, really?” Annata rolled her eyes, brushing past her cousin to open the door. “Come on. We're going to call Cassandra and get her ass up here to pick you up.”

“
Good luck.” Vivica said, following Annata into the small one-bedroom apartment that she called home. “She bailed on me two months ago.”

“
Oh my God.” Annata massaged her temples, her migraine returning with a vengeance.

“
Can I smoke in here?” Vivica dug around in her bag, pulling out a smashed pack of cigarettes.

“
No! You're not even old enough to smoke!” Annata heard her voice rising, and she fought for control. She was beginning to wish she'd stopped for that drink on her way home.

“
I'll go out on the fire escape.” Vivica went to the living room window and wrenched it open. Annata didn't have the strength to argue. She kicked off her her shoes and tossed her purse on the couch. She entered the kitchen and found the bottle of wine that now seemed like her lifeline. She uncorked it and took a swig directly from the bottle. Vivica pulled off her big black hoody, revealing a threadbare blue tank underneath. Her pink bra straps showing, she climbed out onto the fire escape. She was skinny as a rail. Obviously, Cassandra hadn't been taking decent care of her at all. Annata took another swig, her tired brain trying to formulate a plan. Sighing in defeat, she dug in a kitchen drawer, unearthing several takeout menus. She went to the window and ducked her head out.

“
Chinese or pizza?” Annata asked. Vivica blew out a puff of smoke.

“
If you don't want me here, I'll go,” she said, flicking her ashes over the side of the fire escape.

“
Well you're here now.” Annata said. “We'll figure it out tomorrow.”

“
I can't go back.” Vivica took another drag of the cigarette, looking older than her years. “Mom disappeared, which she's done before,” she said. “But she never came home. I didn't know what to do.” Vivica shrugged. “So I said fuck this, and I left.”

“
Do you know where she might be?” Annata asked.

“
She could be dead for all I know.” Vivica stubbed out her butt viciously on the peeling metal of the railing. “Who cares?”

Annata sighed. “What about Holland? Maybe he knows where she is.”

“He hasn't called since basic training.” Vivica brought her knees up to her chest, looking old and young at the same time. Holland, Vivica's brother, had been overseas for a year, Annata knew from talking to her grandmother. So Vivica had no one in the city to help her. No one but Annata. She glanced longingly at the wine bottle on the countertop then turned back to her cousin.

“
Come on.” Annata pushed back away from the window. She dug around in her purse, looking for her BlackBerry. “I'll order food.” Vivica crawled in the window.

“
I was thinking I could just stay here with you until I turn 18, maybe?” She batted her eyes innocently. “Like, 'til October.” Annata suppressed a groan. What the hell was she going to do with a teenaged girl under her roof? She was rarely home as it was.

“
We'll see,” she murmured.

“
And maybe we could not tell Granny?” Vivica slouched on the couch. “I don't want her to freak out.”

“
Girl, you are skating a fine line.” Annata dialed the number for the pizza place. “How's pizza?”

“
Can we get ham and pineapple on it? And maybe jalapeños?” Vivica said, her eyes wide as saucers. Annata felt a sharp ache in her chest. She wondered how long it had been since her cousin had eaten a proper meal.

“
Whatever you want,” Annata said with a sigh.

***

“You stay the fuck out of my office!” Annata hissed in Christophe's ear. She hauled him up out of her chair as he laughed.

“
Look who's late today,” he said close to her ear. “Little Miss Perfect.” He smiled wide, his face devastatingly handsome. She was not in the mood in the least. After getting no sleep the night before (or the night before that), she'd entered her office, and found Christophe sitting in her chair, his feet propped on her desk. He was enjoying driving her crazy. It was the icing on the shitty cake that was her life. “Make yourself useful and go get me my coffee,” she snarled.

“
Milk? Sugar?” he asked sweetly, as if he didn't know.

“
Black,” she spit out.

“
Get it yourself,” he shot back. “Bitch.” He lingered over the word, relishing the power behind it. Her eyes widened as she felt the anger rise up within her. She tossed her head, her long braids snapping against her back. He was crazy if he thought she was going to take the insult lying down.

“
I'll be a bitch. I'll be the worst bitch you ever met in your life. But I'll be running this company one day. “ She said, her voice ice-cold. “You're a pathetic, entitled piece of shit. You're an embarrassment to your father. You're nothing, and you're never going to be anything. Now get the fuck out of my office.”  They both stood there for a moment in stunned silence at her harsh words. She steeled her spine, not wanting to show any weakness. Without a word, he turned and left her office, leaving the door open behind him.

Annata collapsed in her chair, noticing that the fine scent of his expensive cologne still lingered around her. Her face flushed and the temperature in the room seemed to skyrocket. She fanned herself with a manilla folder and took a deep breath.
Get a grip
, she told herself. She hated being out of control. And her life seemed to be spiraling out of control as of late.

It had been two weeks since Vivica had come to stay. Since then, her apartment smelled of smoke 24/7 and her wine supply was seriously running low. Vivica was difficult, to say the least. She didn't like authority, and she didn't like to be told what to do. What she did like was staying out until all hours of the night and stealing Annata's designer clothes. Annata knew she had to come up with a plan of action. She felt bad for her cousin, but not bad enough to sacrifice herself at the altar of good intentions.

She knew that she wasn't going to last until October, that was for damn sure. She'd never had the distinct pleasure of living with a teenage girl before. Her baby sister Toni hadn't even hit puberty by the time Annata was out of her parents' house. She knew she couldn't take much more. She'd left a message for Holland, but he was on a raid and was out of range for an indefinite amount of time. There were only two options, really. Either Annata had to track down Cassandra, wherever the hell she was, or she had to call her grandmother and ship Vivica down to Louisiana. She really didn't want to worry her 80-year-old granny with Vivica, so that was her last resort.

Annata checked her watch and groaned. The morning meeting was set to start in five minutes. She stood up, reaching for her laptop. Except it wasn't there. She always put it back in the same place, yet it was nowhere to be found. She opened drawers, looking for it. Feeling like her head was going to explode, she slammed her palms on the desk. She wanted to scream. But she didn't have time for a freak-out. Grabbing a yellow pad and pen, she hurried to the conference room.

***

Christophe stifled a bitter laugh when Annata showed up to the meeting without her trusty laptop. She plopped in her seat with a pen and paper and pointedly ignored him. He might have hid her laptop in the oak armoire in her office, but she had it coming. As the boring shop talk commenced, he let himself focus on her completely. Anger still simmered underneath his skin. He had never felt so violently angry toward a woman before. Annata St. James' mouth was going to drive him crazy, he decided.

Annata tucked a braid behind her ear, writing furiously, trying to keep up. His eyes traveled the length of her face, and he noticed that her profile was really quite pleasing, for a spawn of Satan. She had a strong nose and full lips. Her eyelashes were long and dark, framing her odd, light-colored eyes. Her cheek was dark and blemish free, smooth as silk. He wondered, vaguely, if she had a boyfriend. He tried to imagine the kind of man Annata St. James would get hot and bothered over. Educated and well-read, definitely. Ambitious and on his way up the corporate ladder, certainly. Black, most likely. Christophe was not her type, that was for sure. He wondered what kind of man would take the harsh words that dripped from her acid tongue. But then again, maybe she reserved all of her vitriol just for him.

So why did he still feel drawn to her? They were completely wrong for each other in every way. Hell, she had made her feelings about him clear – she hated him. And he didn't like her. Definitely. And yet... there was some spark of interest there that he couldn't ignore. He liked the way her eyes lit up when she talked to him, anger bringing her lovely features alive. He liked her sharp tongue. And it didn't hurt that she was sexy as hell. It didn't hurt one bit. Sitting back in his chair, he let himself get lost in a fantasy that involved taking Annata over his knee and spanking her until she cried out, begging for him to fuck her.

Finally the boring meeting ended, and The Old Man cleared his throat, addressing the group. “My lovely wife would kill me if I didn't mention this, but the Fourth of July Spectacular is on again this year. You're all invited, but by all means, do not feel obligated to attend,” he said, almost apologetically. “Family obligations takes precedence over a stuffy party with your boss, obviously. Otherwise, I too would be elsewhere.”

“
You're not kidding anyone, William. We all know you love fireworks,” Annata said, slyly, not taking her eyes off of her pad as she finished her notes. The Old Man chuckled, and wagged his finger at her. Christophe rolled his eyes at their familiarity, and at the reminder of the party. He'd forgotten all about it, of course, and in fact, already had plans. But he had no excuse now. Miranda would have his head if he was a no-show. Standing, he cracked his back, apparently loud enough for Annata to hear. She craned her neck to look at him, disapproval written all over her face.