Chapter Thirty-Six
On Emme’s third weekend in Kristalldorf, the Harringtons asked if she’d like to spend the Saturday on the slopes with them.
‘We’re going to Monte Rosa, we might even ski into Italy today, what do you think, Bill?’
He looked up from his newspaper and rubbed his eyes.
‘Yes dear.’
‘What do you think Emme?’
Emme wasn’t convinced Lexy wasn’t asking her for the childcare.
‘You know what, I won’t thank you,’ Emme said, graciously. ‘Unless you need me?’
‘No, you’re fine,’ Lexy said primly.
‘I need to make some calls home, I might go for a swim.’ She didn’t want to spend a potential day off with her wittering boss. Plus she wasn’t ready to ski in front of the family yet. She’d had two lessons with Milla now and her turns were still pitiful.
‘I might check out a spa.’
‘Oh, the one at the Steinherrhof is wonderful! Sooo relaxing,’ Lexy cooed.
Emme didn’t say she’d already been.
‘Great, thank you.’
As Emme weaved through town, she wondered if she might like skiing more if she had some better gear. It would be foolish to wait until February to buy ski clothes, and she wanted to finally get out of her sister’s garish hand-me-down coat. It was just too embarrassing.
Emme bypassed the Bogner boutique on account of it having a velvet rope across the open doorway, and went into an equally exclusive but ever-so-slightly more welcoming boutique that sold a mixture of brands.
If she was going to finally buy a ski jacket and trousers, they needed to be nice enough to feel good in, but not break the bank.
Emme chose gloves to replace her woollen mittens and a decent enough helmet which she knew she could have bought at Decathlon for a fraction of the price back home, but a helmet was no good to her at home, and she needed one now.
Fuck it, she thought, as she picked up a lilac Goldbergh two-piece and tried the jacket and salopettes on, just for fun.
A shop assistant with voluptuous lips and poker-straight hair admired Emme in the mirror of a rather open changing room area.
‘It’s stunning with your colouring,’ she said.
‘Thanks,’ Emme mused, admiring herself in the mirror. The lilac did suit her golden-peach skin tone. She dared to dream, before carefully peeling off the jacket. She handed it to the assistant and stepped out of the salopettes as she wondered what cheaper suits the store might have.
‘And of course the jacket can be worn around town, not just on the slopes,’ the assistant said.
Emme was tempted, but they were so expensive. She was just handing the salopettes to the assistant when someone made her jump.
‘Suits you,’ said a familiar voice from the shop counter.
Tristan again.
‘Christ!’
She thought she was the only customer in the boutique, and now she was standing in just the caramel-coloured base layers that hugged every curve and contour of her body tightly. She felt exposed and awkward and put her forearms across her breasts to try to conceal herself.
Tristan was tacit in his admiration, throwing her a don’t on my account glance.
The shop assistant looked over, delighted.
‘Tristan!’ she said in a singsong voice, holding the lilac ski suit over her arm as she went to kiss him on each cheek.
‘Muffie, how are you?’
‘All the better for seeing you …’ she said.
This was the guy who slept with his own girlfriend’s married sister, as Cat had explained to Emme. She wanted to hate him, but he was just so bloody dazzling; his smile so warm and sexy, she felt so seen under his appreciative gaze, that her shoulders dropped and she felt instantaneously relaxed.
‘What can I do for you, Tris?’ the assistant asked, coquettishly.
‘I need four helmets please, Muffs, I’m taking my wine buyers skiing – and of course they came to the mountains without any gear … nor any idea for that matter …’ he winked at Emme. And she felt it to her core.
‘Of course, what sizes?’
Tristan pondered his group.
‘I’d go one XL, two L and one small please. Actually make the small helmet special; she’s from New York and it’ll be a nice touch.’
Muffie picked up a white Louis Vuitton helmet with matte white embossed flower motifs and interlocking LV logos on the front, which Emme had been eyeing. At 2,000 Swiss francs, she’d chosen an Oakley one instead.
‘Is this good?’ Muffie asked.
Tristan took the helmet and stroked it, impressed. He rubbed his thumb over its smooth shiny surface.
‘Would you wear this one, Emme?’ he asked, proffering it.
‘Hmm …’ Emme replied.
He swaggered over to her, helmet in hand, so she could see it up close.
Emme caught the twinkle in his eye, and something about the way he approached her, the way his eyes fell on her pert breasts, gave her a thrill. He was a player, but maybe she could play him too. She was still aware that she was in her caramel SKIMS, which made her look practically naked.
‘It’s pretty cool, yeah,’ Emme said casually, eyeing it, while Tristan couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Tristan broke the tension to glance back to the till.
‘Great, I’ll take three of the black Monclers for the men and the white Vuitton in small.’
‘Very good,’ Muffie said, as she started to gather the stock. ‘I just have to go to the basement for the XL. Don’t go anywhere!’ she joked.
‘I won’t.’
Tristan looked back at Emme. Cocksure and flirtatious. She met his gaze and rose on the balls of her feet clad in ski socks.
‘You know,’ he said, slowly. ‘On the mountain …’
‘Yes?’ Emme lifted her chin. The atmosphere between them was electric. She had never felt so mischievous. She had never felt so turned on.
‘You know how I wish it really ended?’ He edged closer.
‘Tell me …’ Emme arched her body towards his as Tristan put the Vuitton helmet down on the chair and placed his hand on Emme’s hip.
Stroking the contour of her arse, he then drew a circle on Emme’s stomach before sliding his hand into the waistband of her SKIMS. She couldn’t believe how much she wanted him.
How little she cared that anyone might see through the shop window, or come in through the door.
She inhaled quietly and ecstatically, letting out a gentle moan as she felt Tristan’s finger press her pulsating pussy; Emme felt her heart racing out of her chest.
‘Here you are!’ Muffie said with blithe obliviousness as Emme and Tristan quickly pulled apart. ‘One extra-large helmet.’
‘Wonderful, you’re an angel,’ Tristan said sincerely, returning to the counter.
Emme pulled her clothes off the chair, put them on as quickly as she could, and brought the gloves and helmet to the till. She knew the Goldbergh coat and salopettes were beyond her budget.
Tristan opened his wallet and took out his gold card. ‘And whatever the lady is buying,’ he said, gesturing to the lilac two-piece Muffie had placed on the counter.
Emme gasped, already flushed pink.
‘No really, I couldn’t.’
‘Yes, you could. I insist. That Louis Vuitton helmet would look gorgeous on you too.’
‘I can’t, it’s too much.’
‘Really, it’s nothing, it would be my pleasure,’ Tristan said with a shrug, piercing Emme with the intensity of his gold-brown eyes.
Why me?
She wanted to hate him for being such a playboy, for not being Tom, but Tristan’s touch had been so exquisite, she was lost for words.
‘Really,’ he said again with such assurance Emme knew protesting was pointless.
‘Well … thank you,’ she said, equal parts grateful and embarrassed. Tristan handed his card over to Muffie, who rang it all through while Tristan and Emme fucked each other with their eyes.
‘All of it?’ Muffie asked, a slight huffiness in her voice.
‘Yes,’ Tristan answered, still favouring Emme with a penetrating look. She couldn’t take her eyes off him either, the strength of his gravitational pull more powerful than a lifetime of crushes rolled into one. The sensation of his touch still lingering between her legs.
Tristan broke first when the card terminal beeped.
‘It needs your face ID,’ said Muffie.
Tristan obliged.
‘Can you have my guests’ helmets sent to the Anna Maria please, Muffs? I need to meet a business associate at Vitreum.’
‘Of course,’ she said efficiently, as she wrapped Emme’s goods in tissue paper. Her flirty tone had turned to something a little more put out by being the third wheel in this transaction, but still, TDK was spending a small fortune in her store. She had to be polite.
‘Thank you,’ Emme said, with a grateful nod. ‘It really is too much.’
‘No problem,’ Tristan said with a warm wink. ‘Call it a welcome to town gift,’ he added, flashing that come-to-bed smile of his. He put his wallet away. ‘Have a good day!’ he said, as he saluted the women and left them both utterly undone.