Breaking the Ice (St. James Family #0.5) (3 page)

He couldn't resist the urge to hiss at her, baring his teeth. The movement caught her off guard and she actually laughed. Her bitchiness had reached an epic level just an hour before, and now she was laughing at him. Huh. He watched her as she stood and gathered up her things, shaking her head.

“What the hell is so funny?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“
You are something else, you know?” she said.

“
People in glass houses... ” he trailed off, raising an eyebrow, attempting to look blasé. She glanced around her, as the room emptied out, and sighed.

“
Christophe Van der Kind, you are exasperating,” she said. “And, quite honestly, I'm too tired to deal with you.” With that, she turned on her heel and left the room. He debated with himself for a moment, then followed her like an idiot.

“
You don't get to act like such a cunt and then get away scott free, you know,” he said close to her ear. “I won't let you.”

“
You won't let me?” she glanced back at him sharply.

“
No.”

“
Well this 'cunt' doesn't care what you want, Christophe,” she said, continuing toward her office.

“
I didn't say you were a cunt, I said you were
acting
like a cunt.”

“
Semantics,” she said in a clipped tone.

“
Jesus Christ!” he growled. “Fine. Have it your way.” He realized they were in front of her office when she opened the door. Her eyes were heavy now, as turned to look at him. She looked tired, beat down. Her lips parted in a soft sigh and he had the discerning urge to run his fingers down her cheek. But the moment passed. In the blink of an eye, her face was hard and unyielding again, any semblance of softness or vulnerability gone.

“
Fuck you,” she said. Then she slammed the door in his face.

Chapter 4

Annata dug through her closet, looking for her blue polka-dotted sundress. After the third pass, she determined that it was most definitely not in there. “Vivica!” she yelled, checking her watch. Vivica strolled in, eating Lucky Charms out of the box, wearing a red triangle bikini top and jean shorts.

“
Fuck. Where's the fire?” Vivica said, her brow furrowed. Annata crossed her arms over the bath towel she was wearing, feeling very old and tired.

“
Where's my blue dress?”

“
What blue dress?”

“
The one with polka-dots. And the white belt.”

“
Oh.” Vivica turned and jogged to the living room. She came back with a wrinkled ball of blue fabric in one hand and a white belt in the other. “It's really cute, but way too big on me.” Annata clenched her fists, tamping down the urge to strangle her cousin.

“
What is
that
?” Annata asked, pointing. “That better not be the dress that I'm supposed to  be wearing to this party today.”

“
Don't you have an iron?” Vivica spread the mess of a dress out on the bed.

“
You don't know how close you are to being murdered right now.” Annata turned back to the closet, taking a deep breath.

“
You're so dramatic.” Vivica pushed past her and started pushing the hangers across the rack. “That dress is boring anyway.”

“
It's classy.” Annata massaging her temples.

“
You need something sexy.” Vivica held out a black shift dress, then shook her head. “This is a rich people party, right?” Annata didn't answer, just went to the dresser and pulled out a bra and panty set. “I want to go.”

“
Absolutely not.” Annata turned her back to Vivica and put on the bra.

“
Why? I can pass for 21.” Vivica pulled out a gauzy white calf-length skirt and laid it on the bed.

“
No.”

“
You don't think I can hang with rich folks?” Vivica laid out a white sleeveless camisole blouse.

“
I don't know about the white,” Annata said.

“
It's perfect for summer. Sexy, but mature, because you're old.” Vivica unearthed a pair of gold Manolo wedges from the bottom of the closet. “With gold, see?” Annata had to admit the pairing was sexy, but still classy. And she didn't have time to be picky. She was okay with being fashionably late, but didn't want to miss out on any opportunity to network with William and Miranda's friends. Vivica was right, the party would be chock full of rich, influential movers and shakers. Annata pulled on the skirt and the camisole as Vivica moved on to the jewelry box.

“
I can help you with your hair if you want,” Vivica said. “Maybe a french top-knot?” Annata gave her a look, then took the gold and green necklace she offered and the hoop earrings, and slid into the shoes.

“
How do you know all this stuff?”

“
What stuff?”

“
Fashion stuff.”

“
I read magazines.” Vivica shrugged, lifting Annata's braids off her back, experimenting with her hair. “I think it would be great up.”

“
Okay. Just do it. Quickly.” Annata sat on the edge of the bed and Vivica began working on her hair.

“
I can be dressed in, like, five minutes. I already know what I would wear.” Vivica said, persistent. Annata shook her head no, then scowled when a bobby pin scraped across her scalp.

“
Ouch!”

“
Sorry. I can't help that you're tender-headed,” Vivica said, not sounding sorry at all. She wrestled with Annata's hair for a few more minutes.

“
Done yet?” Annata checked her watch.

“
So impatient,” Vivica said, then patted her shoulder. “Okay, done.” Annata stood and walked to the full-length mirror. She felt herself relax. She looked breezy and comfortable, not stuffy and buttoned-up. The up-do was elegant, without being over the top. Perfect for a summer party.

“
Good,” Annata murmured to herself before heading into the living room.

“
I'm going to go get dressed, I'll be ready in a little bit.” Vivica smiled, on her way to the bathroom.

“
Nice try,” Annata said, grabbing her gold leather purse and keys. “You better be here when I get home.”

“
You're not my mother.” Vivica collapsed on the couch, pouting. “You can't keep me here.”

“
You're right, I'm not your mother.” Annata applied a quick coat of coral lipstick in the hall mirror. “You better be glad I'm not.”

***

The party at the boathouse was in full swing when Christophe finally arrived, half-drunk from the whiskey in the flask he had in his pocket. He headed straight for the bar, ordering another whiskey on the rocks. He scanned the room, recognizing his Miranda's socialite friends and his father's business cronies. Always the same faces. A brass band played
The Girl from Ipanema
and couples danced on the parquet dance floor. He ran his hand through his hair, wondering how long he should stay. Bianca, the girl he'd been sleeping with for a couple weeks, had invited him to a rooftop party in Chelsea and he had every intention of getting drunk and stupid with her later. His father's lame shindig was just a warm-up.

His eyes found The Old Man and Miranda, near the center of the room. Miranda was talking animatedly, her eyes flashing the way they did when she was the center of attention. His father, in a stars and striped linen jacket, nodded along, a scotch in one hand and a cigar in the other. He made a mental note to avoid them for as long as possible. He noticed his sister Kat in the corner, giggling with a group of her prep-school friends. She met his gaze and rolled her eyes. She hated the society schmoozing as much as he did. If it were up to her, she would be in India with Doctors Without Borders right now, administering vaccinations to the poor. Miranda, however, had put the kibosh on Kat's summer plans, wrinkling her pert nose and exclaiming, “Darling, how are you ever going to find a husband in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by death and sickness? How depressing!” Christophe had no idea how Kat could live in the city with them and not go crazy. His little sister had the patience of a saint.

Christophe sighed and downed his drink. A pretty brunette in a red dress sidled up next to him at the bar. “Excuse me,” she purred. “Do you remember me?” Christophe smiled at her, his mind going blank. She didn't look the least bit familiar. He shook his head, deciding that honesty was the best policy. She opened her mouth in mock indignation, her red lips pouty.

“
We took that sailboat trip together two years ago. With Johnny Wilkes and Isabella Marcus.”

“
Right.” Christophe nodded, remembering the trip, which had ended on a particularly good note. He'd had his dick sucked under the stars, the boat gently swaying beneath him. He was surprised he could remember anything about it at all, he'd been so high the whole trip. The way the girl was looking at him, he imagined it was she who had been doing the blowing. She rolled her eyes and held out a dainty hand. He took it and shook it lightly.

“
Diana.”

“
I knew that.”

“
No, you didn't.” She sucked on the straw of her vodka on the rocks, her big brown eyes sending one blaring message. If he played his cards right, she'd be down for sucking on
him
. Shaking his head, he sighed. Society parties. Always the same. He turned to the bartender, ordering another drink. Then a vision in white passed, her braids piled on top of her head like a queen. Annata St. James stopped down the bar, tapping her long fingers as she waited. The bartender slid his whiskey across to him and headed for her. She glanced up with a lovely smile. His heart sped up, just a bit. Her whole face lit up when she smiled, and he had a sudden urge to get her to do it again. And again.

“
Pinot grigio, please.”  Then her eyes strayed to him, and her smile faded. He took her in – every bit of her exposed brown skin. Her arms were bare. Her blouse was low-cut and loose, her curves accentuated by the lightweight summer fabric. She looked... refreshing, somehow. And damn good. He raised an eyebrow at her and she pursed her lips, that little tick going off under her eye. The bartender placed her drink in front of her and she lifted the glass to her lips. Time seemed to slow as she sipped, his eyes running down her chin to her neck to her cleavage, to her fingers, resting on the bar.

“
Are you here all summer?” Diana was saying.

“
Another month,” he heard himself replying.

“
I'm going to Barcelona in a week. You should totally come.” She ran a hand over his arm, her long nails like claws.

“
I can't.” He dragged his eyes from Annata to Diana. Diana shrugged her thin shoulders, her own eyes beginning to wander.

“
If you change your mind... Facebook me. It'll be a trip, me and Isabella and our friend Madge. You've probably never met Madge.”

“
No, probably not.” Christophe caught Annata's gaze over the girl's head. She looked away, rolling her eyes.

“
She gets good shit. Like, the best high ever.” Diana dropped her voice. “Last time, we snorted this
supreme
heroin and she let three guys bang her in the ass. But you didn't hear that from me.” Christophe tossed his head back and laughed. Nope. Things never changed.

“
Thanks for that mental image,” Christophe said after the laugh subsided. Annata cocked her head, watching them again.

“
No problem.” Diana gave him a wink and twirled her tongue around her straw. “See you around.”

“
Yeah. See you.” he said, not taking his eyes off of Annata. As soon as Diana walked away, he was headed down to Annata's end of the bar, drawn like a magnet. He took up residence next to her, staring out at the crowd. “Hi,” he said simply.

“
Catching up with an old friend?” she murmured.

“
Apparently.” He turned back to the bar when his father looked his way, accidentally brushing her elbow with his.

“
She's a funny girl, huh?” She didn't acknowledge their closeness, just looked everywhere but at him.

“
Hilarious.” He drummed his hand on the bar, close to her fingers. He leaned in closer, whispering in her ear. “Supposedly, Madge likes gangbangs and taking it up the ass. Oh, and heroin.” She stiffened, and gave him a sharp glance. “But you didn't hear it from me.”

“
You're disgusting,” she said, taking a sip of her wine. He took a deep breath, taking a whiff of her intoxicating perfume.

“
Sometimes I can be,” he said, his fingers itching to touch her hand. He lowered his chin. Her bare shoulder was so close to his mouth, he could bite it if he wanted to. Or kiss it.

“
Who's Madge?” she asked. He took a slow breath, clearing his head.

“
I don't know. But right about now, I'm wishing I did.” He caught her smile before she turned her face away. “She'd liven this party right up.”

“
I'm pretty sure Madge isn't the only one around here who likes to get high and fuck,” she said, looking out into the crowd. The band was playing something slower now, and couples swayed together in the center of the room. He felt his cock harden at her secretive tone, like they were alone together in the middle of the universe. And her words. She had a dirty mouth, and he couldn't help but love it. Across the room, Miranda caught his eye and hurried over.

“
Christy! You're terrible. You snuck in and didn't say hello!” Miranda scolded, her blue dress cut low in the front. “And Annata St. James, you've met our Christy?”

“
I met her in the office, Miranda.” Christophe said, turning to face his stepmother.

“
Of course you did!” Miranda waved her hand. “We need to take a family picture. The Times' photographer is here.”

“
I'll pencil it in.” Christophe knocked back his drink.

“
Annata, you look positively ethereal. I love your hair,” Miranda cooed. Annata put her hand to the bare nape of her neck. He could have sworn she blushed, but then her society polish slipped firmly back in place.

“
Thank you, Miranda.” Annata said, her voice like honey. He turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. She ignored him, smiling at Miranda. “Your dress is stunning.”

“
You're so sweet.” Miranda giggled. “Promise you'll stay for the fireworks. We're going to set them off over the lake.”

“
Absolutely. I wouldn't miss it.”

“
Fabulous,” Miranda said.