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‘Xavier’s sorting me out,’ I said, biting into my ginger cake.
‘Course he is,’ Liv said, swooping in for a piece of cake herself.
‘No more cake, you two! The platter is starting to look paltry!’ Xavier said, sprinkling raspberries in the gaps Liv and I had left. He chopped up some strawberries as additional garnish and added them to the subterfuge.
‘What are you up to this arvo?’ Liv asked, grabbing the platter of cake and a flask of hot chocolate to take upstairs. ‘Boarding practice?’
‘Er, no, not today. Luca has asked me to go with him to check out a Champagne bar he wants to invest in.’
‘Has he?’ Xavier frowned. ‘He doesn’t usually need a second opinion on these things.’
‘Ooh, look at you out and about with the big boss,’ Liv said, nudging me.
‘I think he wants me to test the quality of the Champagne?’
‘What kind of line is that? Sounds a bit suss, babes,’ Liv said.
‘Does it? I couldn’t say no though, could I? He’s the boss.’ I had to assume it was all above board. Luca had given me no reason to think otherwise. ‘What are you guys up to?’
‘I’m heading back to Paris for a few days,’ Xavier said.
‘You must be desperate to see your wife,’ I said, grabbing a couple of strawberries, ‘I hope you’ll be wining and dining her after all this time.’
‘Something like that. I need to sort out some stuff at the restaurant too, but I’ll be back on Thursday,’ Xavier said.
‘Well enjoy it. Don’t worry about us – Liv and I have everything under control.’
‘The menus are written out here.’ Xavier pointed to the noticeboard where the next three days of menus were scribbled out and pinned up. ‘I have absolute faith in you to look after things while I’m away.’
I gave them both a wave, biting into a strawberry as I retraced my steps to the ski room and reluctantly stuffed my feet back into my tight-fitting ski boots, still damp from my morning lesson. I picked up my skis and poles, ready to go again.
‘Holly?’ I turned to find Luca stood in the doorway. All six foot of him.
‘Ah!Bonjour,Luca,’ I said, wanting to be professional.
‘Are you on your way to meet me?’ he asked, putting his size twelves into his made-to-measure ski boots and zipping up his jacket.
‘Yes, I just popped back for some lunch,’ I said. ‘Shall I go on ahead and see you up there?’
‘Not at all, wait a minute and we can go together,’ he said, pulling his snood across his nose and mouth and clipping his helmet into position. Oh God. I was going to die snow-ploughing next to him. At the very least of embarrassment. We left the warmth of the chalet and crunched out into the snow, walking in amicable silence through the town towards the ski lift. Rachael was in thepâtisserieand gave us a wave as we walked past. I shook my ski poles at her like a seasoned pro and as we approached the lift, instead of joining the back of the queue like everyone else, Luca walked straight to the front and the liftman waved us through and into the bubble.
‘Life is too short for queues,’ he said, giving me a slow smile. ‘We go up the mountain here and meet my guide at the top.’
Oh God, I was definitely going to die.
‘Your guide?’
‘I have a guide who escorts me around the mountain,’ Luca said, as if it was obvious. ‘He will drive us to the ski area which links to the Champagne bar.’ He was sitting so close, I could feel his pulse pounding through his thigh. Or was it mine? ‘Your appointment was OK on Friday?’
‘Was it?’ He’d lost me again.
Luca looked at me strangely. ‘You said you had an appointment?’
‘Oh. Sorry. Yes… no… I had to have my skis adjusted,’ I said quickly.
‘Sharpened? So you can go faster?’ he asked.
Oh fuck. That didn’t bode well. Was there such a thing as getting skis blunted to slow them to a virtual standstill? ‘No, just the bindings,’ I said, throwing words out and hoping he wouldn’t ask anything else.
