On Thin Ice

Chapter 1 Matilda

“We don’t want to hear any complaints about partner assignments,” Mark, the executive producer, declared, running a hand through his light hair. “They won’t be changed, so don’t waste your breath.”

I glanced around the large white conference room, trying to gauge everyone’s reactions to his not-so-subtle dig. The twelve of us were split across three round tables, arranging ourselves so those friendliest were together.

At the table next to me, Sammy and Sara exchanged a look that spoke a thousand words, and I smiled.

The sisters always had something to say about the celebrities they were—or weren’t—partnered with.

At least for the last four years since I’d been there.

They’d been on the show for nine years, so perhaps their veteran status made them cocky. I admired their confidence.

The other skaters looked marginally bored as they sipped their morning coffees.

“As it’s the tenth anniversary, the channel has extended our budget,” Mark continued, igniting a round of whispers. “Stop your gossiping and allow me to finish.” At his authoritative tone, silence engulfed the room.

“As I was saying, they’ve extended our budget, which means we have bigger celebrities on the show this year. It needs to be the best show yet, and it’s down to you all to ensure that happens. Got it?”

Mark’s penchant for dramatic monologues, clearly fueled by a general unhappiness with his life, was familiar to all the skaters and crew on Stars on Ice.

Considering the amount the producers received for half a year’s work, they should have been singing and dancing onto the set.

Or at least cracking smiles to put those perfect white veneers to good use.

But alas, they acted as if they’d drop dead if they showed so much as an ounce of warmth toward us.

“Right, I’ll announce the partners and send the celebrity briefing folders to your dressing rooms. Study them before meeting them. Hear that, Nate? We do not need a repeat of last year.”

Nate had the decency to blush. “I didn’t realize it was a crime to celebrate a high score.”

Mark gave him a pointed look.

“What?”

“It’s not a crime to celebrate a win, Nate,” Mark deadpanned. “But it is frowned upon to spray a magnum of champagne over your partner when they’re a recovering alcoholic.”

I tapped my fingers on my thigh, eager and nervous to find out our partners for the season.

I didn’t know whether to take my previous partnering choices as a compliment or an insult.

I was basically the easy option for the agents and PR teams who wanted their C-list celebrity clients to have a bit of TV airtime—they knew there wouldn’t be any scandalous affairs, public blowouts, or anything that would land the celebrities in the headlines.

Because I made an effort to be a moderately nice human being, I ended up with partners who were fine cruising the competition and never really putting in the work, so I never made it past week six.

Which disappointed my mother no end.

Mark coughed and flicked through his pages.

When I first met Mark, I’d found his dirty-blond hair, blue eyes, and boy-next-door charm gorgeous and charismatic, so much so that we’d dated for a year just before my third season on the show.

Safe to say, that had definitely passed.

Working with him since our breakup had been pretty testing, especially since he seemed to go out of his way to try to get under my skin in any way possible.

“In no particular order, the partners are as follows…” he started, listing the professional skaters and their respective celebrity partners, most of their names ringing a bell as I could picture them from the tabloids or TV.

“Grace, you’re with Tony Faraway.” I recognized his name but didn’t know much else about him.

That was why the briefing documents were essential before meeting your partner—there was nothing worse than a celebrity with a bruised ego before you’d even begun training.

I’d always done my own research to be on the safe side.

The thought of insulting someone through my lack of knowledge about them literally haunted my nightmares.

Some of the skaters could pull it off, confidently introducing themselves to their celebrity partners and waiting for them to introduce themselves back.

For me, the risk of making someone feel uncomfortable made me want to shrivel up in a ball and die. So, I studied.

“Asha, you’re with Alice Avril.” A ripple of excitement swept through the room. Now, she was a good celebrity to be partnered with, since she starred in almost everything these days. Mark meant it when he said they’d gone all out this year; she couldn’t have been cheap to hire.

Asha tried hiding her smug smile. The more popular the celebrity, the better your likelihood of winning. I nudged her with my shoulder, wagging my eyebrows, and the corner of her mouth quirked up knowingly.

The celebrities never had any complaints about being partnered with Asha.

With her lustrous black hair cascading in silky waves around her face, and full, captivating lips against her warm brown skin, she was the epitome of sensuality.

She was confident, outspoken, and extremely talented, reminding me a lot of my best friend, Lily.

Whereas my long blond ponytail and light smattering of freckles gave off “I’ve just left school” vibes.

“Matilda…” Mark paused, scanning the sheet. He took his sweet time, eyes slowly dragging across the page as if I wasn’t a ball of nerves.

It will be fine. This is your year, Matilda.

“Matilda, you’re with Luca Vasvault.”

The audible gasp around the room was the only thing that stopped me from thinking I’d misheard him.

“Luca Vasvault is on the show this year?” Sara gaped from her seat, dipping her head to look at me. Luca Vasvault’s notoriety made every other celebrity who’d ever starred on the show look like the local shop owner in comparison.

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” Mark responded, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

“It’s just that he’s, like, mega-famous.”

“And an absolute god,” Sammy added.

“I thought he wasn’t filming anymore?”

“Didn’t he release a sex tape a few months ago?”

“I thought he was in rehab.”

The gossip continued until Mark interrupted.

“Yes, Luca is on the show. You are under no circumstances allowed to hound him for any reason—be it autographs, gossip, or because your grandma ‘just loves him in that film.’ ” He said the last part in a mock-female voice, which made me want to headbutt him.

“The only person who should be in contact with him is Matilda. Got it?”

Everyone’s eyes landed on me, reminding me I had yet to react. Spurring myself into action, I nodded. “Got it, sounds good.”

Outwardly, I slapped on a smile and loosened my shoulders, ensuring I looked relaxed, happy, and unconcerned by the news.

But inside? I was an eye-twitching and palm-sweating mess.

I had just been partnered with Hollywood’s biggest and most notorious bad boy.

Away from prying eyes and fueled with adrenaline, I glanced at the celebrity briefing file left in my dressing room.

Despite the room’s being a good size, the walls felt like they were pressing in.

My shaking hands made it almost impossible to read the pages, so I put them down on the vanity and tried to control my anxiety.

Grinning and bearing my way through the stupid show every year was stressful enough without adding a mega-famous celebrity into the mix.

Spotting the doughnuts I’d bought earlier, I shoved one into my mouth to distract myself.

It didn’t work.

When it came to meeting new people, “Fake it till you make it” was my motto.

It was important to be agreeable when working with the celebrities on the show, because it meant the partnership would work better. But consistently keeping it up for months sapped away my energy.

That, combined with my mother breathing down my neck more than usual during the season, meant it was an exhausting time of the year.

And that was without Luca Vasvault in the picture.

Why the sudden change of heart from the producers? Why had they chosen me to partner with the biggest star we’d ever had? And one the public hated, at that.

I’d told myself last season that I needed to win the show to get my mother off my back, but now that I had been given the opportunity to make it further than week six, the grass didn’t feel greener. The expectations felt so much higher—more media, more attention, and more responsibility.

The overwhelming pounding of my heart caused my breath to hitch, the air feeling painfully thin.

Pay attention to your breathing and senses. Remember, your thoughts and emotions do not define you. Your thoughts will pass. I heard my old therapist’s voice play in my mind.

After a few minutes, I tried again to read the papers and was glad my hands had finally stopped shaking. Flipping through the pages, I skimmed over some paragraphs.

Luca Vasvault is a 34-year-old American actor who moved to the UK four years ago. He has starred in 11 box office hits. He hasn’t filmed since moving to the UK.

Physical: 6'2", muscular build and physically able. Medical has deemed Luca fit to compete in the show without limitations on movement, lifts, or choreography.

As standard practice, the assigned professional skater and their family must sign a nondisclosure agreement, stating that he/she will not discuss…

The whole thing read like a Wikipedia page. I didn’t watch the news or keep up with celebrity gossip much, so I hadn’t heard anything about Luca recently. Deciding to rectify the situation, I sat on one of the large sofas in the corner of the room and typed his name into Google.

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as I scrolled through the headlines.

Luca Vasvault caught entering his hotel with three mystery women in tow.

Hollywood’s ex–golden boy arrested for drunk driving in California.

Luca Vasvault vs Timothy Jamerson: Who punched whom first?

None of the articles were particularly positive toward Luca, but they were also dated four years ago, save for the few speculative articles about why he hadn’t been filming recently and what he’d been up to in the UK.

His social media pages were also inactive, with the occasional scenic shot here and there, but they all had the comments turned off, restricting any speculation from fans.

Who on earth had I been partnered with? Luca used to be well respected in the industry—hell, everyone had a crush on him when we were at school. Lily even had this huge poster of him on her wall from one of the many teen films he’d featured in.

A sudden vibration from my phone startled me, so I swiped it off the vanity and cringed at the text.

Mum: Call me as soon as you’re assigned your partner.

Groaning, I slid my phone into my hoodie pocket, too overwhelmed to deal with my mother right now.

I had bigger things to worry about. In a few short hours, I was going to meet my partner for the next sixteen weeks.