Page 96 of Ice To Meet You

I ran my fingers through my knotty andnotblonde 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 andglaringly 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 wasMattitudeX’ssqueeze. His groupie. His girlfriend. And, surprisingly, I didn’t hate it. In fact, I loved it.

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