Black Frost Winter: The Black Seasons Book Two Page 8

  The space was deserted, leaving no one to disturb her meditative chain of thought that shifted more and more in Leo’s direction. She opened her locker to check the time on her phone. Only two hours until their date.

  No drinking, she decided right then and there. Regardless of how much he tries to sway me with his irresistible charm, I will not indulge in a sip of alcohol.

  The strange thing was, she knew he wouldn’t tempt her. In fact, she vaguely recalled him asking her if she really needed another martini at some stage of the night before. And did he hand her water too?

  Alexia clamped her teeth, suddenly second-guessing whether he’d still want to go out with her. She’d been drunk enough the night before to warrant him bailing.

  A loud chime went off, causing her to twitch like a startled cat. She glanced at the illuminated screen of her phone.

  Speak of the devil.

  “Leo Your Date Tomorrow” flashed on the caller ID.

  Don’t tell me you’re too hungover…

  Alexia laughed aloud. Had she put his name into her phone like that? No, that was definitely him. She unlocked her screen to jab at the keyboard.

  I wasted my hangover on ballet today. Guess you’re in the clear.

  His response was instantaneous.

  Perfect. What hotel are you staying at?

  She told him.

  See you at 7. Hope you don’t mind helmet hair.

  Helmet hair? Oh god, he has a scooter!

  The thought filled her with inexplicable excitement. A real European experience. Well, she supposed the whole night before had been a genuine European experience, but this would be one she would remember every moment of. Stirred with fresh impatience, Alexia grabbed the blow dryer mounted beside the vanity mirrors and began blasting hot air to speed up the drying of her face. Then she shimmied into her leggings and sweater faster than she’d ever dressed before and rushed out of the room with only one arm in her coat.

  Silence extended itself to the grand hall on the other side. The lights had been dimmed in replica of an eerie twilight, and the opening of the door cast a shadow against the wall that made Alexia flinch. Even after acknowledging it was nothing to be frightened of, she was gripped by a strong desire to flee the opera house. The building was creepy at night.

  She was just about to turn for the entrance when something caught her eye. A crack began to form in the wall straight ahead of her, soundlessly snaking its way between the paintings she so admired. The effect was similar to the damage an earthquake would cause. Despite the absence of tremors, Alexia was arrested by the fear that the building was shifting by some unseen force—about to collapse. She tried to bolt, but terror froze her to the spot, her eyes unwilling to detach themselves from the strange sight before her. New crevices began sprouting off the original one, trailing out in all directions like deadly vines growing at unstoppable speed. The larger they grew, the more she could see there was a pattern to their structure, a symmetry. The lines weren’t in fact lines, but a congregation of small lattice shapes, which now almost covered the full extent of the hallway. And they shimmered. Alexia stumbled back, hands covering her mouth. They weren’t crevices. It was frost. A mural of black frost.

  Alexia’s head whipped from side to side, searching for anyone to witness the impossible happenings. With the reception desk empty, the foyer was barren on her right. But to her left…past the frost…someone was at the far end of the hall. The girl was walking away from Alexia, dark ponytail swaying rhythmically in the bob of her tread. From the buoyancy of her step, it was evident she had not witnessed the disturbing formation of ghostly frost.

  Alexia narrowed her eyes for a better glimpse before she drew air hard into her lungs. It was Chloe. The sight of her in the faint after-hours lighting was as hypnotic as the wall, similar to an artistic clip of film. Only when she was about to disappear around the corner did Alexia call out.

  “Chloe?”

  At the sound of her name, Chloe halted, hair swinging like a pendulum in the seconds before she rotated her head with ominous slowness to face Alexia. Even from a distance, her features couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else’s.

  Alexia found her voice with a strained effort. “Did you just…?”

  Her question died as she looked back at the wall. It had been restored to its normal color, all traces of frost dissolved.

  She stared in disbelief, unable to wrap her head around what had just unfolded. Chloe’s approach was soundless, and when she cleared her throat to make her presence known, Alexia screamed.

  “Relax,” Chloe laughed.

  Her voice sounded different for a reason Alexia couldn’t place her finger on. Matching the anomaly was her expression; it was one Alexia hadn’t seen her wear before. As if sensing her unease, Chloe shifted her features into a playful smile.

  “Are you alright?”

  Not knowing whether she was, Alexia’s head wobbled in an unclear response.

  “The wall—” she began before killing her sentence, overcome with embarrassment. “Nevermind. What…what are you still doing here?”

  Chloe’s full lips emitted a casual sigh. “Oh, it’s hard for me to tear myself away from this place. Sometimes I feel like I live here.”

  Alexia nodded distantly, pulling her mind from the supernatural incident to reflect on the hours she spent at her dance studio back in NYC.

  “It helps when the building is as nice as this one.”

  “You haven’t seen half of it,” Chloe gushed. “Have you been to the rooftop?”

  A few golden brown strands fell from her bun, now free of bobby-pins, as Alexia shook her head.

  “Great views up there.”

  Chloe paused, lifting the graceful line of her chin into an inviting angle. “If you like, I can show you? I’m heading there now.”

  Alexia almost fell victim to temptation, but another chime of her phone chained her to reality. She pulled it from her pocket, noticing the time before she even got to reading the text from Carrie.

  “Shit. I’m really sorry Chloe, but I have to go.” She felt color rise on her cheeks when she explained, “I have a date with Leo.”

  Chloe’s eyes widened, lining her dark irises with thick circles of white. Then, as fast as they had grown, they narrowed into hard slants.

  “Be careful with him.”

  Alexia was thrown by the statement. Hadn’t Chloe encouraged her to go for him just the other night?

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Chloe replied in a weak attempt to reassure her. “I’ve just heard he can be a real heartbreaker.”

  Alexia was torn between wanting to know more and not wanting to hear another word. In the end, she decided it would be better to come to her own conclusions.

  “I’ll be careful.”

  When Chloe smiled, something in the positioning of her lips seemed off. “I also wanted to ask if you’d like to come out with me tomorrow?”

  Lost somewhere between flattery and uncertainty of what she was getting herself into, Alexia paused.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Obviously something fun,” Chloe winked.

  “I’d love to, really, it’s just…”

  “Just what?”

  “I’m worried about drinking again. In case you didn’t notice, it didn’t go over very well today.”

  “Oh,” Chloe laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you drink anything you don’t want to. To be honest, I’ve just really enjoyed our conversations. You’re very refreshing to talk to.”

  The statement shocked Alexia into silence. All she could do was totter like a branch in the wind as Chloe leaned in to kiss her farewell on the cheeks. She still hadn’t found her voice when Chloe turned, venturing back down the hall she had come from. Under the wan light, her dark ponytail swung in such perfect imitation of how it had a moment before, that Alexia began to wonder if she’d hallucinated the whole thing.

  CHAPTER 5

  Ale
xia gasped when she opened the door to her hotel room.

  “Chill, it’s just us,” Deborah said.

  She was lying in the middle of Alexia’s bed, head propped up on the satin pillows, curls spilling over them in red waterfalls. Amy was in one of the ornate armchairs, while Carrie was nestled into the chaise lounge, both flipping through haute couture French magazines. All three of her friends had glasses of champagne in hand. The half-emptied bottle was resting in an ice bucket on her nightstand.

  “How did you guys get in here?” Alexia demanded.

  Deborah picked up the key card lying on the bed beside her in response.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “From reception. Duh.”

  “But you’re not even registered to this room! What kind of security is this?”

  “In their defense, I had to get a waiter from yesterday morning to vouch that I was your sister.”

  “But you’re not my sister!”

  The coils of Deborah’s curls stretched as she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Tell that to him.”

  Alexia’s eyes swept back to the cooling champagne. “Don’t tell me you ordered that from room service.”

  Before Deborah could utter a reply that promised to escalate Alexia’s temperament, Carrie stepped in.

  “We came to help you get ready for tonight. Dream date! Come on, sit down, tell us where you’re going.”

  Carrie shuffled to the side of the chaise lounge to make room for Alexia, but just as she was about to sit, Carrie shifted back, pushing her away.

  “Changed my mind. Shower first.”

  Grabbing fresh clothes with a scowl, Alexia disappeared into the bathroom. Although still warm from the physical demands of the day, she turned the tap until the water was scalding and steam infected every inch of the air. Then she went to work, scrubbing away the dried sweat from her pores. Twenty minutes passed before she felt clean again. She dressed slowly, suffering from the sluggishness of relaxation.

  By the time Alexia opened the bathroom door, her friends had all ditched their earlier forms of entertainment, humored by conversation instead as champagne worked its magic on their energy levels.

  Carrie slid to offer her a spot on the chaise lounge with more enthusiasm. “Want a glass of champagne?”

  “Absolutely not. That stuff ruined me at rehearsal today,” Alexia replied, plopping down beside her.

  “Correction, Deb’s martinis ruined you today.”

  They all chuckled in regretful memory.

  “So what are you guys doing tonight?” Alexia asked.

  Deborah twisted her shoulders in a mini dance. “Pierre offered to take us to the hottest bar in the city.”

  “All of you?” Alexia flicked a skeptical glance at Carrie and Amy.

  “If it gets to be too much, we’ll branch off to do our own thing,” Carrie piped in. “But enough about us. Where are you going tonight?”

  “I have zero idea. All I know is that a scooter is involved.”

  “Oooo, how French,” Amy said, although she sounded a tad disinterested.

  Alexia didn’t take offense, as most things didn’t interest Amy. With an IQ that was twice everyone else’s, it was a challenge to get anything to capture her attention. However, the talk of scooters had kicked someone else into gear. Deborah sprung up from the bed, crossing the room with quick strides until she stood in front of a carry-on suitcase that Alexia hadn’t noticed before.

  “You are not sleeping over,” Alexia said firmly.

  Deborah stared back with genuine seriousness. “I would never cock block you.”

  Alexia bit her tongue from laughing, but a squawk slipped through the cracks of her lips. “I don’t think it’s going to be that kind of date.”

  Deborah turned back to her luggage, tearing the zipper open like a madwoman. “It will be after I’m finished with you.”

  When she began pulling out designer garment after designer garment, everything clicked into place. Alexia jutted out a hand in a request for her to stop.

  “No. I don’t need a makeover. I’m still taking your purse everywhere, aren’t I? You said if I did, you would leave me and my clothing choices alone.”

  Deborah disregarded her with a loud tsk.

  “Do you like this guy, or not?”

  “I—well, from what I can remember, he seems amicable.”

  This time Deborah openly scoffed. “Alexia, he’s a babe. And you are too. You just need a bit of an upgrade on your packaging.”

  Alexia shot a pleading glance at Carrie and Amy, who dove for the fashion magazines, flipping through the pages at a pace that was impossible to read at.

  “Just try them on,” Deborah pressed. “We’ll have a group vote at the end. If the majority rules that you look better in what you’re wearing now,” she scanned her eyes over Alexia’s ripped jeans and basic t-shirt with a hint of revulsion, “then you have my word you can wear that instead.”

  Alexia glanced down at her outfit with shrinking self-confidence.

  “I still haven’t done my makeup,” she mumbled.

  Acknowledging the end of the argument, Carrie put the magazine down. “If we’re going to have a fashion show, might as well have some tunes to go with it. There must be speakers somewhere in this state-of-the-art room.”

  A few minutes later, they were all dancing to pop music that blasted through the surround sound. Despite the arduous task of being at the mercy of Deborah’s fashion directorship, Alexia found her spirits lifting with each outfit change. She ended up in skinny jeans and a fashionable high-neck top that shimmered silver when it caught the light. Amy styled her hair in a loose bun, with pieces that hung down to capture a perfected carefree look, while Carrie handed her a plum-colored lipstick that made the brown in her eyes pop.

  “Bella!” Deborah cried when Alexia indulged them with a twirl at the end of her make-over.

  “You mean belle,” Amy corrected. “Bella is Italian.”

  “Whatever, she looks hot.”

  Smothering Alexia with a satisfied grin, Deborah asked, “Do we really need to vote?”

  Alexia sighed.

  “Don’t give me that. You love it, and you know it. Now go get ‘em tiger.”

  Alexia’s pocket began to vibrate before the end of the song. When she answered it, the tiny buzzing that coursed through her body pulsed on. Leo seemed to be affecting her more than the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Your chariot awaits, Mademoiselle.”

  “Such the charmer. Be down in a sec.”

  She hadn’t even lowered the phone before Deborah thrusted heeled boots and a black leather jacket in her face.

  Alexia opened her mouth to protest, but Deborah cut her off.

  “No time to argue. And don’t forget the bag.”

  She was ushered out the door while still hopping into the boots. Her friends shouted a chorus of “good luck” after her as she descended the marble staircase.

  Alexia’s heart skipped a beat when she spotted him. Leo was leaning against the lobby wall, right leg propped up against it like a model in a photo shoot. His fair locks were in slight disarray from the helmet he had tucked under one arm, but it added to his appeal—effortlessly attractive. As Alexia descended the final stretch of staircase, two girls entered the hotel, devouring him with their eyes. When he noticed them, they turned up the charm, tossing him seductive smiles that promised they were single. It flared a ripple of jealousy in Alexia. She picked up the pace, Deborah’s heeled boots clacking beneath her on the wide stone steps. The sound caught Leo’s attention, and his head tilted in search of its source. When he saw Alexia, his face broke out into a wide grin, eyes hovering over her for a span of time that bordered on being inappropriate. Alexia held his gaze, letting it dissolve the worries of the day.

  “I was expecting you to look more hungover,” he winked, leaning in for her cheeks.

  As his lips found her skin, Alexia’s breath caught in her throat. When he pulled
away, she exhaled.

  “You should have seen me ten minutes ago.”

  Leo’s smile said it wouldn’t have made a difference as he raised the helmet for her to take.

  “My moto is just outside.”

  “Moto?” she asked, carelessly tugging the helmet over the updo that had taken Amy so long to perfect. “I thought you called them scooters?”

  Leo laughed. “If I called my Ducati a scooter, the guys at the dealership would have taken it away from me.”

  Alexia’s stomach dropped. “You mean Ducati as in a motorcycle?”

  She was familiar with the brand. Her brother had been wanting one for ages. In an effort to dissuade him, Alexia had compiled a list of all fatal motorcycle accidents in the U.S. to send to him…which was precisely what she was envisioning at that moment. The paling of her face must have been apparent, because Leo placed a reassuring arm around her waist as they stepped into the winter night.

  “You’d prefer if I had a scooter?”

  “They’re much slower,” she replied.

  He stopped just shy of his ride, a sleek machine of sculpted metal that was nothing short of modern day art. Despite her apprehension, Alexia could see the appeal.

  “Going slow on this thing is like walking a thoroughbred racehorse. But, for you…”

  Leo mounted the bike in one assured motion, inching forward to create space for her to climb on behind. She rested her boots on the designated foot rests, making sure their gigantic heels weren’t touching the street. Once satisfied, she locked her arms around Leo’s waist.

  He hit the throttle without warning. Alexia gasped at the initial surge, squeezing Leo even harder as they zipped into the lane.

  “I’ll have less chance of killing you if I can breathe,” he wheezed.

  She loosened her grip with reluctance, engaging her core to center herself the same way she would in a pirouette. When her initial fear of falling receded, her attention drifted to the surrounding sights. Paris was presented as a film in fast forward as they whizzed through narrow streets and under romantic balconies. The elaborate sights of the city were just a tease at the pace they travelled—here one second, gone the next.