Page 84 of Ice To Meet You

I watched myself spin around on the wire for a few seconds before whoever filmed this Oscar-worthy footage zoomed in on my bottom—my very much exposed bottom. A ripple of hushed murmurs spread through the room, and I forced down the bitterness rising in my throat.

“No,” I whispered, my feet absolutely glued to the floor, like I’d been cemented on the spot. Someone had filmed my accident on the zip line last weekend. They’d captured my utter humiliation. Channelling my inner Maleficent, I sent a silent hex to the cameraperson, only I couldn’t stop the images from coming.

Fighting the trembling in my hands, the video played on. Matteo joined me on the wire, his legs wrapping around my waist, his lips at my ear. Then the rain fell, and my sweatshirt became transparent.

I glanced at Maurice, expecting to see him on the control desk, ready to cut the feed, but he wasn’t there. My breath camethick and fast, and my gut rolled under the bemused stares of the folk around me.

An on-screen squeal cut through the murmur of the guests, and I looked up again. This time, though, Matteo’s hands were clasped around my buttocks as he tried to push me along the wire.

As if God himself had decided to smite me, the video froze, my derriere taking the starring role—loud, proud and magnified on the wall. Matteo’s hands barely covered it.

Gasps sprang up around the gallery, along with a few chuckles and giggles. My face filled with a heat to rival Mount Vesuvius.

“No, no, no!” I whispered, magically springing to life. I tore over to the wall, waving my arms, trying to cover the screen. But the image was so large, it was like an ant trying to block an elephant.

I scoured the gallery, waiting for a miracle or a saviour.Someone to rescue me from the mortification currently surging through my body. Within a heartbeat, Matteo was at my shoulder. “Esmé,” he hissed. “What the hell is going on?”

I blinked at him. If I knew that, I’d be able to stop the onslaught of this horror show. I met his frantic gaze. “Did you do this?”

His mouth gaped open. “What? Why would you think that?”

I shook my head, dislodging the suspicion. “I’m sorry. But please, just make it stop.”

He gave me a grim look, then disappeared. Muffled laughter reached my ears, and my blood pumped hard through my body. Within seconds, the screen went dark, leaving the gallery in silence. Then somebody turned on the lights.

A bank of faces surrounded me. Faces with mixed expressions—horror, amusement, even scowls—but every single eye was glued to me.

I cleared my throat, fixing a smile on my lips. “Please accept my apologies for the interruption, ladies and gentlemen. We must have had a technical issue. But if you’d like to stay for another drink, I'd be happy to answer any questions about Luc’s work.”

Right on cue, he strode towards me, his furious face shattering the tomb-like silence. “Where is he?” he ground out.

“Who?” I’d never been applauded for my acting skills, but right now, keeping my smile in place was the fight of my life.

“That boy you put in charge of my exhibition.”

I startled. Boy? Realisation dawned on me. He meant Matteo. I stared at my best friend. Right now, he was the proud, stormy Luc who materialised from time to time. Since Iris’ arrival in his life, I’d seen way less of this side of him. But these were extenuating circumstances. I’d potentially ruined his career.

“He’s not a boy,” I said steadily, well aware of the crowd of onlookers.

“Well, he acts like one. Clowning around the gallery, throwing puppy dog eyes at you.”

Iris stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. “Luc!”

And then, to complete the full set, like a tragic comedy, Matteo appeared at my side. “I stopped it,” he said, running his eyes over my face, like he was checking for damage. “The video was loaded onto the gallery laptop. There was no way it could’ve accidentally overridden the original footage. Someone had to deliberately hit the start button, or …” he looked around the gallery, “someone added it.”

The gathering of bemused onlookers moved now, as if someone had woken them from a spell.

“But who would do that?” Iris asked.

Luc growled beside her. “It doesn’t matter who. Both Esmé and I have been made a laughingstock tonight. And that video?” He shook his head at Matteo. “I don’t care what you dooutside the gallery in your own time, but please don’t drag my friend into it.”

He put a hand on my arm, his eyes softer now. “I’m sorry for my outburst, but I care about you. You’ve worked so hard. I hate to see your talents wasted.” Luc leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll see if I can limit some of the damage.”

My gut heaved as he and Iris walked away. The guests had thinned out, but those who remained parted around us as I took Matteo’s hand and pulled him to the back of the gallery.

When we reached the bar, he stopped. “Es, why did you think I put the video up on the screen?”

I wound my arms tight around myself. “Because all week you’ve been pushing me to go public about the two of us.”

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