2. Matteo
2
MATTEO
“ W here are you, Matteo? I need you back in Rome.” Antonio’s voice was harsh—a little edgy.
“Breathe, old friend. What’s going on?” He hated it when I called him that. He said it made him sound too serious. But the term fit. Antonio was my oldest friend—and a damn good one.
I moved forward in the chairlift queue, closing my gloved fingers tight around my phone. A group of school children ahead of me erupted into laughter, and I turned my back to dampen the noise.
“What was that? Who are you with?”
With the crowds, it felt like half of Northern Italy. “I’m skiing in Tiano.”
The tinny sound of Antonio’s scoff pummelled my ear drum. “At Tiano? That’s a little below your pay grade, isn’t it? You can’t have skied there since you were a kid.”
“I pop up from time to time.” That was a vast exaggeration.
He chuckled. “Your grandparents summoned you, then?”
My gut gave a tug. He knew the truth of it. “Yes.”
Antonio let out a whistle like a bomb dropping right before it exploded. “How are they? What do they want this time? ”
I hadn’t seen them yet, only received a message that my presence was required for dinner tonight. There’d been no mention of skiing, but if I was here, I’d gladly take the opportunity. I hadn’t touched snow in a week. Even if the slopes here were on the tamer side, I needed to blow away some cobwebs.
“My grandfather didn’t go into specifics—just mentioned an important business matter. They want me to meet someone.”
“Interesting. Maybe they’re trying to marry you off?”
I chuckled. “Doubtful. They haven’t seen me with a woman in years” It’d been a long time since I dated, full stop. I had casual flings here and there, but these days, I didn’t have the time or the inclination.
“So, they still have their house in Tiano?”
“They do.” It was the best part of any visit. I genuinely loved the old place. It held so many memories.
“Well then, maybe you can swipe a few heirlooms for our place. Only the cool ones, of course—they need to match the decor.”
Our place , as he called it was an old ski lodge we’d renovated. We planned on running a high-end heli-skiing business out of it.
I chuckled. “Not going to happen. I need to keep a healthy separation between my family and our business plans.”
I turned around toward the chairlift. A bank of people had built up at the front of the queue. I craned my neck to check what was going on but saw nothing. Only the backs of shiny ski helmets.
“Well, those plans could go horribly wrong if you don’t help me finalise everything.” An ominous tone laced his voice.
“Isn’t that your job? You pitched yourself as the brains of the operation.”
“And that’s why I need you here, in Rome. I may have the business brain, but right now I need charm. Lots of it. And considering you’re the nearest thing to a celebrity, and far better looking than me, that burden lands solely with you, I’m afraid.”
I clamped my jaw, pulling my lips into a tight line. “What’s happened?”
“A couple of investors are having wobbles, and I need you to soothe their furrowed brows. We both know you’re by far the most loveable between the two of us.”
“Loveable?”
“You were always the one who got the girl.”
I wrinkled my nose. True, I’d beaten Antonio to the post a few times as teenagers. We had a terrible habit of having the same crushes back then. “Define wobbles.”
Antonio sighed. “There may be some unanticipated expenses with the refurbishment. Nothing earth shattering, but more than we budgeted for.”
I clamped my jaw tight. I’d invested most of my available cash into the project—without my family’s knowledge. I couldn’t afford any “wobbles.”
“Have the investors actually seen the place?” I pictured the large wooden building nestled high in the mountains. Virtually inaccessible outside using a Skidoo or helicopter, the thought of its wild, traditional charm brought a smile to my lips.
We planned on making the lodge a luxury escape, with plenty of adrenaline on the menu. Only adrenaline and luxury cost a lot of money.
“How far from launch are we?” When he paused, I imagined the cogs in his brain whirring.
“A few weeks. A month at most. Thanks to you, we’re fully booked for the first trip.”
I’d done a bit of forward promotion and a lot of schmoozing. “Then what’s the problem?”
He gave a wry laugh. “One fully booked trip at the end of the season isn’t enough to plug the hole. I know we’ll make the money back next season, but the delays have caused a cash flow issue.”
A bitter taste crept into the back of my throat. After financially propping up the project for months, I had cash flow problems of my own.
Technically, I was a wealthy man. My parents died in an accident when I was a toddler, and my grandparents became indulgent caretakers of their “wild” grandson. Unfortunately, our family lawyer still had full visibility of the trust fund they’d settled for me. Though I never wanted for anything, I dare not risk my grandparents knowing about my business activities. They wouldn’t understand.
“Why don’t you ask Gio to help? He could give you a loan.”
“No.” My voice came out harsher than I expected. I unleashed a breath. My first foray into business was something I wanted to do alone. The thought of my grandfather even knowing about my plans curdled my blood. He’d laugh. Dismiss it as another one of my hare-brained schemes.
He only cared about plans that involved me taking over the family’s art business. I liked art, but there was so much more to life. My grandfather still saw me as his responsibility. If he found out about the lodge, he’d try to get involved, or worse, stop me.
I just needed one year. One year to prove my idea would work.
“No. I’ll take care of it. I’ll get to Rome as soon as possible and put the funds together while I fly.” It would mean missing my grandparents, but I’d come up with an excuse.
I shuffled forward on my skis, the chatter at the front of the queue growing louder. Glancing up to see what was happening, my eyes landed on... pink. Pink and glitter and fur. Only the person dressed like a fancy flamingo had a thunderous look on their face, like they were ready to murder someone .
“Antonio, I have to go. I’ll call you when I land. Ciao.”
Hanging up, I stuffed my phone into my jacket pocket and moved forward, cutting through the queue. After a few tuts and grumbles from the school kids, the group parted to reveal the source of the pink overload.
A woman struggled toward the chairlift. She dragged one ski behind her like a wounded animal—like someone had nailed it to the ground, and she needed to get away fast.
I drew my brows together. The poor thing was obviously having trouble with her equipment. With her shiny, tight ski-pants, she was channelling seventies disco hard. Maybe that was her era. She could very well be one of my grandmother’s friends. Regardless, if she wanted to make it onto the chairlift in one piece, she needed help.
I pushed through the crowd, my skis gliding over the packed snow. The moment I made it to the front, the chairlift’s wheel gave an unearthly squeal, and the woman turned in my direction. My breath caught in my throat.
She wasn’t my grandmother’s age at all. She had a thick chestnut braid. Her nose turned up a little at the end, and the glow in her cheeks nearly matched her ridiculous earmuffs.
She was beautiful.
The woman stopped in line, waiting for the next chairlift. Her ski, still unattached to her boot, slipped awkwardly to one side, and I winced.
Her high-pitched whimper cut through the chatter as she lurched forward, bracing against her ski poles. At their sharp angle, they were seconds from slipping out beneath her. If I didn’t get her upright—fast—the lift wouldn’t scoop her up. It’d smack her backside and launch her tumbling into the snowbank.
Her eyes widened, like she’d just come to the same realisation as me. When she shut them tight, as if accepting the inevitable, something tugged in my chest .
I dug one ski into the snow and took off towards her, sending the school kids scattering in all directions. There was no time to hesitate. I had one goal—one thing on my mind. To get this beautiful woman out of the queue, onto the chairlift, and fully in my debt.