Page 26 of Ice To Meet You

“Why would Esmé be nervous?” he asked.

I opened my mouth, hoping I could come up with something plausible other than “the man currently hanging your paintings makes my heartbeat far faster than it should.”

Mercifully, Iris got in before me. “Esmé has a few things to iron out with her new employee.”

My tummy rolled.

Luc glanced at Matteo, a line forming between his brows. “He looks familiar.”

“I doubt it.” I swallowed away the squeak in my voice. Perhaps Luc knew Matteo’s family, but I’d rather not find out. “He’s younger than us—probably mixes in totally different circles.”

Luc pulled his brows even tighter before the sunshine of a rare smile broke through the cloud on his face. “Well, I’m not nervous. You’ve done as good a job as ever. I think the exhibition will be a great success.” Luc leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “And I for one feel like a drink. Do you have any of your father’s wine?”

Papa had worked at Luc’s family vineyard as the master winemaker for years. He was like a father to Luc, too.

“I don’t know if we should be encouraging drinking on the job.” Iris giggled, arcing an eyebrow at me. “I imagine Esmé wants to keep a clear head. Stay in control.”

“Nonsense,” said Luc, patting the back of my hand. “I’ll check what you have in your storeroom.”

He disappeared and Iris turned to me, her eyes alive, like a child on Christmas morning. “So, tell me all about Matteo.”

I opened my mouth to shush her, when Lola, Matteo and Maurice pulled up at my desk. Lola’s face glowed. Matteo looked sheepish. Maurice, on the other hand, looked like he’d won first runner up in a beauty pageant—his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“We’re all going for drinks,” Lola said, threading her arm through Matteo’s. “Matteo said I should invite everyone. So, here I am.”

Something shifted in my belly. If I looked closer, her smile was a little too forced. A little too keen.

“It’s my birthday,” Lola added to Iris.

My gut plummeted. I should’ve remembered. I always kept track of things like that. Little details about the people aroundme. Being thorough was one of the things that made me good at my job. I made a mental note to book Lola a day at the spa as a gift.

At that moment, Luc reappeared with a bottle of wine and an armful of small glasses. He stopped at my desk, glancing around at our little group. “Did I miss something?”

“Not at all,” Matteo said, untying his arm from Lola’s. “You found it,” he said, taking the bottle from Luc’s arms. “Esmé’s been saving this for today. It’s Lola’s birthday.”

He smiled at Luc, and I could practically see his brainwaves pulsing across the room, begging my friend not to contradict him. Matteo had to know Luc found the bottle squirrelled away somewhere. That it wasn’t some special treasure—it was probably gathering dust in the storeroom he’d reorganised as part of Lola’s so-called “initiation.”

Yet, instead of calling me out and making me look like an uncaring boss, he’d made it sound like I’d planned an impromptu celebration. My heart thumped a little harder with … gratitude, obviously. Nothing else. Definitely not.

His eyes met mine and I smiled—desperate to let him know how grateful I was. He sent me the tiniest hint of a smile back and my heart burgeoned, pressing against my ribs as if they’d crack.

He set the wine on the table and took the glasses from Luc. “Here, let me.” After placing them on my desk, I passed him the bottle opener, and with practiced ease, he uncorked the wine and poured the deep red liquid.

We all raised a toast to Lola, and she smiled at us one by one, spending far longer than necessary beaming at Matteo. He grinned at her with equal ferocity, and I forced down the bitter taste that reached into the back of my mouth.

Matteo and Lola made sense. They wouldn’t look out of place together on the cover of a magazine or standing at the altar.

“So where are we going for drinks?” Maurice asked, shifting against the floorboards.

Lola played with the rim of her glass. “Well, I’m meeting some friends at Franco’s. I suppose a few more wouldn’t hurt.” She glanced at me before lowering her eyes.

Silence hung in the air long enough to rival an ice age, before Matteo finally cleared his throat.

Like someone had prodded her with a taser, Lola startled. “Would you like to come, Esmé?”

“Yes,” Matteo added. “We’d love you to join us.”

I fought the urge to laugh out loud. From the look on Lola’s face, she’d rather drink poison than invite me to her birthday drinks. I didn’t normally socialise outside of work with my staff. I listened to their tales of cocktail-fuelled weekends with interest, but I preferred to be tucked up in bed nice and early.

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