“Bet you a bottle of Moët we spot Bellini first,” Maddie whispers.
“I’m not looking for Bellini,” I say coolly.
She gives me a long side-eye.“Right.You’renotlooking for the smirking Italian with thighs carved by God and a history of drama with your not-boyfriend.Of course not.”
I sip my tea.“I’m focused on the Austrians.Media obligations.Hashtag team unity.”
“Uh-huh.”She stretches, shoulder bumping mine again.“You know, for someone who says she’s in control, you’re blinking like you walked into the wrong confession booth.”
“Iamin control.”
Maddie pauses.Then, softly, “And Thomas?”
My heart doesn’t skip.It lunges.But I don’t flinch.
“Thomas is… taken care of.”
I say it evenly.Lightly.As if I didn’t feel his hand on my skin less than forty-eight hours ago.As if I didn’t whisper his name into the ski room wall while trying not to break something with the force of my need.
Maddie watches me.Too smart for her own good.“And you’re fine.”
“I’m excellent,” I say, smiling as I spot a single Angolan athlete waving her flag and jumping for joy.“We have a deal.Clear terms.No complications.”
“And no feelings?”
“I didn’t say that.”
She blinks."Wait—youhave feelings?"
“I have excellent boundaries,” I correct.
“Sure.That’s what all the girls say when they’re falling in love with a man who skis like a god and fucks like the mountain’s watching.”
“Maddie—”
“—and looks at you like you’re the only calm in the chaos.But yes.Excellent boundaries.”
I open my mouth.Close it.Because I see him.
Not Thomas, yet.But the Austrian team has begun to assemble just inside the entrance tunnel.Red and white jackets.Familiar postures.Camera-ready smiles.
My body tightens in anticipation.
The stadium cheers as the announcer welcomes Austria.We are in Northern Italy, and the Austrians are friends here.Sure, competitors, but closest to friends, any country can be, even closer than the rest of Italy.
And there he is.
Thomas Kern.
Flag-bearer.Chin up, stride smooth, posture just arrogant enough to earn the roar that greets him.
I don’t try to fight the smile tugging at my mouth.How could I?He looks...magnificent.Not in a made-for-camera way—but in thateffortless, annoyingly Kern way.Like he was born for this kind of light.
He scans the crowd, eyes unhurried.Not looking for anyone.But somehow I know—he knows.I’m watching.
And for once, I don’t mask it.I just watch.
“All right, fine,” Maddie mutters.“That man could carry the torch and me in one arm.”
