33. Esmé
33
ESMé
T he roar of the helicopter blades filled the air, whipping my hair around my face as I stood frozen, watching Matteo fly away. My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
He was gone.
I only just got him back, and now he’d slipped through my fingers. Only this time, I couldn’t blame a humiliating viral video.
I swallowed at the lump in my throat, but it stayed firmly lodged. My chest ached, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid. The words had been there, teetering on the edge of my tongue, but fear had held them back. Fear of falling. Fear of flying. Fear of trusting that what he felt was real.
He said he loved me.
I watched the helicopter shrink into the sky, and something inside me shifted. Would I really let fear decide my fate? Would I stay here, grounded and safe, while he soared away, not knowing I felt the same way?
I turned on shaky legs and strode toward the second group of people. A man stood at their side, ticking something off a clipboard. “When’s the next flight up the mountain? ”
He looked up, then ran his eyes over my wholly unsuitable outfit. It’d been good enough for the early morning flight from Paris. Next, he looked at Matteo’s helicopter disappearing into the distance. “Ten minutes.”
Ten minutes. Ten minutes to fix everything.
"Sign me up."
He looked at me again, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you booked on the trip?”
I shifted on my feet. Who had time for the Spanish Inquisition? “Not technically, but I’ve been told there’s room for me.”
The corners of his mouth bobbed. “And who are you, exactly?”
“I’m …” I froze. Who was I? Was I Matteo’s lover? His boss? His boss with benefits? “I’m Matteo’s girlfriend.”
A grin cracked the man’s face. “Nice. It’s Claudette, right? I thought you were blonde.”
I ran my fingers through my knotty and not blonde hair. Had Matteo really talked about me? My heart skipped—right before my brain caught up.
Who the hell was Claudette?
My stomach twisted for a millisecond before it hit me. Claudette. My cat.
I chuckled. Matteo must’ve told his friend he had a new girlfriend, and in a moment of pure, unfiltered genius, kept my identity a secret, using my minxy furball’s name instead.
I pressed my lips together, fighting a laugh.
“I’m Antonio. Matteo never said you were coming along, but the more the merrier. He winked at me. “I’m sure we can find you some gear and squeeze you in. You can ski, right?”
Six minutes and a lot of zips later, I sat strapped into the helicopter. Matteo’s business partner had kitted me out with snow gear, helmet, goggles and some shiny new skis that were in full working order—not a Pikachu in sight .
Antonio sat in the front with the pilot. He turned round to give us a thumbs up and I clung on for dear life.
I’d never been in a helicopter, which I’d always considered a sensible choice. At least in an airplane, the pilot could technically glide the plane down if the engines failed. Helicopters dropped like stones.
The ground crew gave us headsets to listen to instructions, but I’d left mine around my neck. I’d rather not know how high we were or what to do if we crashed.
But when the whine of the rotors filled my brain, tearing at my eardrums as if they’d rip open. I tugged on my headset. Lesson learned.
All too soon, the helicopter tipped forward and bobbed gently. The second I knew we’d left the ground I clamped my eyes closed. My stomach weaved and tipped along with the aircraft, and I silently counted backwards from one thousand. Antonio said our fight time would be short. Surely by the time I reached one, we’d be safely up on the glacier.
As we climbed, a non-stop stream of chatter filled my ears, but I didn’t hear a word. I kept my focus on the memory of Matteo’s face when he’d told me he loved me. The smell of his skin, and the way he’d promised to look after me on the journey down.
I hoped he’d be true to his word. I’d never been a bad skier—just reluctant. Fingers crossed my rusty abilities would be enough to survive the day.
By the time the sun’s rays hit my cheeks, I’d reached three-hundred-and-nineteen. Antonio announced over the radio that we were above the glacier. “You can open your eyes now, Claudette,” he said.
I didn’t move a muscle. “Claudette,” he repeated. “Open your eyes. I promise you won’t regret it.”
Somebody nudged me in the arm, and I startled. Of course. Antonio meant me .
I held up my palm. “No thanks. I’m good.”
The chuckles of my fellow passengers made it through my headset. Damn inflight communication systems. Had they no respect for privacy?
“Your choice,” he said. “But wouldn’t you like to see Matteo on the mountain? Just let go of the armrests and look out the window.”
I wanted to tell him that was far easier said than done, but something nudged at my brain. The words “let go” spun around in my head. Matteo had told me to “let go” when we’d been on the zip line together.
Not that letting go had gone too well back then, but had I regretted doing it? No. Apart from the biblical storm and the ass-welt from hell, I’d had the best afternoon in ages.
Slowly, I peeled my eyelids open.
I sucked in a breath. The beauty of the snow below stopped my lungs mid-inhale. The sun struck the glacier, sending shards of blues and greens shimmering beneath the surface, while blinding silver flared where the light caught the ice just right. I tightened my eyes into the glare.
Below us, the snow stretched endlessly, piled high in peaks and swirls—like someone had gone wild with a piping bag or emptied a fire extinguisher across the landscape. The crisp blue sky reflected off the untouched white, making the entire world look fresh and dazzling. Almost surreal.
I let out the breath I was holding. This was Matteo’s realm—vast, untamed, and beautiful. No wonder he felt so at home here.
I glanced at Antonio. He turned over his shoulder, sending me a wink. “That’s better. Matteo would want you to see it.”
The other passengers beamed at me in unison, and the hair on the back of my neck danced. Did they know I was with Matteo? And did they even know who he was?
It took me around three seconds to join the giant and glaringly obvious dots. Of course they did. He organised this trip, and most likely they’d parted with their hard-earned cash because of who he was.
A gentle heat crept over my cheeks. I was MattitudeX’s squeeze. His groupie. His girlfriend. And, surprisingly, I didn’t hate it. In fact, I loved it.
“I’m going in to land,” the pilot said over the radio.
Antonio looked over his shoulder again, sending me a grin. “Make it a smooth one. We’ve got precious cargo onboard.”
Yay for privacy.
The helicopter landed in a pitch of snow and ice. My goggles and gloves fended off the glare of light and the whip of frigid air as I stepped onto the crisp snow.
The crew and other passengers around me unloaded their gear. But all I could worry about was the bite of the wind and what Matteo would say when he saw me.
I tightened my eyes into the dazzling white distance, my breath catching in my throat. There stood Matteo, looking at the slope below, hands on his slim hips. His head was slightly bowed but when a guide shouted something in his ear, he spun in my direction.
He trudged back up the hill, his powerful legs making quick work of the climb. When he arrived, an enormous roar bellowed behind us, followed by a high-pitched whine.
He pointed to the snow beneath our feet, guiding me to a crouch as the helicopter took off to head back down the mountain. The first one must’ve left before we landed.
As the wind from the blades buffeted us together, he held me tight to his body. Even with his mouth covered by a balaclava, his warm breath made it to my ear. “It’s okay. It’ll be gone in a second,” he shouted.
When the noise and wind settled, Matteo pulled me upright and wrapped his arms around me in one swift motion. “What the hell are you doing here? Antonio radioed our guide when you jumped on board, but I couldn’t believe it until I saw you.”
“I’m doing what you said. I’m taking a risk—choosing a different path from the safe one I usually pick. You know, a sexy zip liner once told me that facing your fears is good for the soul. Yes, I’m terrified of all the things that could go wrong now, and in our future, but I’m ready to take a chance. On us. If you’ll have me.”
The moment the words left my lips, he pulled the material of his balaclava from over his mouth. “You know I will,” he whispered.
He tightened his grip, pulling me in for a kiss. But instead of his beautiful, sweet breath at my mouth, my goggles clashed against his sunglasses with a clunk.
Matteo laughed as pillows of condensation clouded around us. With a shake of his head, he reached up. “Close your eyes.” His fingers brushed my temples as he gently lifted my goggles, pushing them to the top of my helmet. Then, he took off his sunglasses and slid them onto my face.
“There,” he murmured, trailing his eyes over my face, half-lidded, burning with something that sent warmth curling through my chest. He cupped my cheeks with his gloved hands, the pressure firm but tender, the material cold against my skin.
" Dio , I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with something unspoken and wild.
Then he brought his lips to mine—cold and tentative at first, but as we lingered, as we breathed each other in, the ice gave way to something softer. Something warmer. Something that felt like home.
All too soon, he pulled away. A guide clapped him on the back and Matteo glanced over his shoulder at Antonio. He squinted back in my direction, then grinned. “I’m going to need those glasses back.”
Again, I closed my eyes, and he took his sunglasses, returning my goggles to my face. He paused. Though I couldn’t see his eyes, somehow, I knew he was looking at me.
“Do you have sun barrier on?” he asked, and I nodded. I’d helped myself to a sturdy dollop of the cream at the airstrip. “Then you’re ready.”
My belly shifted. Was I really? He pulled up the bottom of my balaclava, covering my mouth, and secured the strap of my helmet.
“Thank you for coming,” he said, checking it was tight enough.
I giggled, my breath warm against the fabric of my gear. “You might not be saying that in a few minutes. You promised to get me down safely—I think I’m about to put your skills to the test.”
Though I could only see the very edges of his eyes, they crinkled, and I knew he was smiling. “I’ll take care of you.”
“Hey, lovebirds,” Antonio shouted, coming over to stand with us. “What’s the plan?”
“First, introductions,” Matteo said, passing his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer.
“This is Esmé.”
Antonio’s brows curled behind his sunglasses. “Then who’s Claudette?”
I shook my head with a laugh. “It’s complicated.”
Antonio’s head bobbed between us. “I can’t keep up.”
Matteo grinned. “All you need to know is that this is Esmé’s first time down a glacier, so we’ll need to go gently.”
Antonio’s white teeth sparkled. “A virgin?” He chuckled. “I’ve got you, man. I’ll take your group. The guides can manage the others between them. We’ll see you at the lodge.” He sent me a dazzling smile, then wiggled his eyebrows at Matteo. “Or maybe not.” He turned towards the other skiers, leaving me with molten cheeks and a grin of my own.
“He seems nice. ”
“I think there are few other words to describe him, but he’s a good friend.” Matteo looked at the frantic action around us. “I wouldn’t want to build this business with anyone else.”
Matteo left me with strict instructions to keep moving, and I slapped my arms around my body as he got our equipment ready. He’d exchanged his sunglasses for goggles, and he looked all kinds of gorgeous in his fitted, black ski wear. It had that same flash of green that I’d noticed as I’d watched him ski out of my life in Tiano.
I’d never take that risk again.
Finally, he came back to me, offering me his shoulder as I clicked into my skis.
Thanks to a healthy case of jelly legs, I didn’t make full contact with the mechanism initially. I turned to Matteo, gripping his arm.
“They work,” he said. “We aren’t in my grandfather’s village now. This is real big girl stuff. No Pokémon. Just take it easy.”
I nodded, inhaling a steadying breath. This time, I clicked into the binding easily and he gently tapped the top of my helmet.
“Ready?”
I nodded, wishing the ski-fairies would magically appear to safely fly me down the glacier. But I had Matteo, and with the way he’d looked after me so far today, I didn’t doubt he’d throw himself into a crevasse if it meant I got down safely.
He pointed down the mountain. “We’ll go straight down.”
“Down to where?”
The apples of his cheeks rose between his balaclava and his goggles. “You’ll see.”
I stared at the glittering slope below, the endless sweep of white rolling out beneath us like a wave frozen in time before it hit the shore.
My stomach twisted, and I gripped my poles tighter, cursing my Pilates lapse and shaky knees. But then, as though sensing my fear, Matteo was there, his hand warm and solid at my back.
“I know you can ski. Hell, you can even make it off a chairlift on one leg. Just keep your eyes on me,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll take it one turn at a time.”
I breathed out, stilling my racing heart, thanking my lucky stars that Matteo was the one standing next to me. My leisurely ski holidays in the past could never have prepared me for this descent, but just his presence was an anchor—a steady pull I could trust in, even if my vision swam every time I looked down.
I nodded, and he squeezed my arm, moving ahead of me and waiting on the snow below. With a squeal, I let go and swept downhill, before stepping into my first turn. When the speed made my chest tug, I pulled up next to him, covering him in a shower of powder. He held up a glove to shield his goggles, his cheeks lifted in a smile.
“You want to make it down in one piece? Being able to see where I’m going might be important.”
“Sorry!”
As my heart pounded, we repeated the process a little more slowly. Matteo went ahead, carving a path for me to follow, pausing on the slope—ready to catch me if I wiped out and plummeted off the mountain. But I didn’t.
Instead, muscle memory kicked in, and flashes of schoolgirl slalom races surfaced—long-forgotten tips from holiday instructors came back like second nature. A warmth prickled through my chest. Despite the broken leg in my early twenties, I was a far better skier than I remembered.
After the third run, and the third dousing in powder for Matteo, I pulled up at his side.
He tugged down his balaclava, freeing his lips. “See, it's that easy. This is how we’re going to make it down. We can take as long as you need.”
True to his word, we slowly picked our way down the mountain. I tumbled over three times, but he always picked me up with a kiss on my balaclava-covered nose.
Soon enough, the slope widened, and we moved together instead of him going ahead. He kept his pace matched to mine, always close enough that I could reach for his gloved hand when I faltered. It was like he always knew where I’d put my skis next on the mountain. He gave me enough space to push a little harder—to take on the challenge of the descent rather than shy away. To feel the thrill for myself.
Soon, the steep, rugged mountain gave way to the vast, bowl-like expanse of the glacier. Countless frozen snowflakes and shards of ice compressed into a shimmering, fractured sheet that stretched endlessly before us. The sight and the glory of nature took my breath away.
The lull in speed and intensity allowed me to take in my surroundings properly—and not all of them were frozen.
It was Matteo who drew my eyes.
His dark figure carved across the slope, moving with ease. Each of his turns was precise and every shift of his weight balanced and graceful. He had an effortless strength. As he sliced over the ice, the mountain might as well have been a playground.
It was warmer on the glacier and as the late morning sun beat down on us, beads of sweat formed at the base of my back.
We stopped occasionally, taking off our skis. We kissed, rolled in the drifts and even built a snowman, but we kept going down until he stopped on the edge of a ridge.
“What is it?”
He smiled, sweeping his arm across the valley. “Welcome to AltoNube . ”
His voice curled around the word, accentuating the accent at the end.
“Alto …?”
“High cloud,” he said.
I glanced around. We’d been chasing the high clouds all morning.
“Down there,” he said, his hand at my back, pointing down at the valley.
I tightened my eyes into the white, just making out a building nestled between two slopes A thick bank of fir trees surrounded it. A thin line of smoke ascended into the sky. I sucked in a breath. “That’s your lodge? I expected something smaller.”
He chuckled, pulling off his goggles. “Esmé, nothing about me is small. And after the ride we just took, there’s a bottle of brandy and a hot tub where I can prove my point.”
The gleam in his eyes sent a bolt of need low to my belly. I leaned over and threaded my arm around his waist, trusting him to keep me upright. “A hot tub, you say?”
His smile met mine. “Yes. It’s very hot, very steamy, built only for two, and I can’t wait to show you.”
I pulled away, roving my eyes over his face—over his body—a grin growing on my lips. “I hope you have adequate ice on hand if things get too heated.”
He quirked a brow. “Naturally. I’ve thought of everything.”
I drank in the details of his face, the wildness in his eyes making my legs wobble even more than our descent. My heart beat hard in my chest, and he blinked slowly, as if he could read my mind—knew just how much I wanted him—what I’d do to him when I had him alone and out of his ski gear.
I brought my lips close to his, giving him the filthiest grin I could muster. “So, come on then … I’ll race you!”
With a final and deliberately heavy dousing of fresh powder, I left Matteo on the ridge and took off down the hill, whooping like a banshee towards the promise of his hot tub and who knew what else.