They continued bickering for another minute while I skated in small circles. Photographers and videographers were positioned around the room, ready to shoot some clips of our “first” meeting.
Luca wasstilllacing his skates. Deciding to take the issue into my own hands, I glided to the edge of the rink.
“Please let me help so we can get going.” I stepped off theice.
“I am doing it.” His tone was clipped.
“Please, I’ll be quick.”
“No.”
“Luca,” Jack reasoned from his seat, “it’s just laces. Stop being so uptight.”
If looks could kill, Jack would have been bleeding on the floor from the daggers Luca threw at him. Surprisingly, he then turned to look at me and said, “Thanks.”
Kneeling on the rubber floor, I pulled his leg forward and tied the laces.
“We’ll only get the rink for a few hours, so I want to make the most of it,” I apologized, feeling uncomfortable for stepping in. “I know you can do it, but I’ve done it a million times now.” I laughed, hoping I hadn’t pissed him off by insinuating he was taking too long.
He remained silent, so I glanced up to read his expression.
Our eyes connected for a split second, something passing across his face before it vanished and he stared straight ahead. His body was stiff, his arms crossed.
I took his other skate, and his throat bobbed with a swallow. Other than that, he remained utterly still.
Once I was done, he nodded in thanks.
“So, how many times have you been ice-skating?” I asked as I followed him onto the ice, in an attempt to make small talk. His briefing folder noted he’d excelled in pre-season training, so I figured he must have had some prior experience.
“A few times,” he offered.
He stepped onto the ice with much more stability than the celebrities usually did and pushed off. He glided into the rink’s center, his tall frame and dark clothes contrasting with the white ice, making him look even larger than before.
And he was surprisingly OK at skating. He was steady on his feet, his ankles only slightly wobbly. He did the classic push-and-glide across the ice, but the only giveaway that he was somewhat new to skating was his torso, which was pitched forward. People generally did this to try to avoid falling backward, but it could quickly be ironed out with a few pointers and more confidence.
I followed Luca to the other end of the rink, where he skated easily. When he noticed that I was heading for him, he wobbled a tiny bit, his hand flexing, before he corrected himself immediately.
“You’re a natural,” I noted as I joined him. We were tracing the outskirts of the rink, a simple warm-up and a great way to see how Luca was on theice.
“Where did you go to skate?” It was obvious he hated being in the public eye, so I couldn’t imagine him skating around a community rink.
“A private ice rink.”
This man.For all his good looks and incredible acting skills, he was a pain to drag a conversation out of. I wanted to pull my hair out. Not many people could get under my skin, but Luca was certainly making his way there.
“Oh, that makes sense,” I said. “Who did you go skating with? Friends and family?”
Wrong thing to say, Matilda.He cut me a sidelong glance as if to say,Remember, we aren’t friends,and I just nodded.
I wasn’t sure how I would ever get Luca to skate with any enthusiasm when he could barely look at me. Trying to figure him out was like trying to solve a puzzle with a missing piece. Each attempt only added to the frustration.
After years of dealing with my family, I’d become good at reading people. It now just came naturally—knowing when someone needed a laugh, a drink, or a shoulder to cry on. Ilikedbeing that person.
But I was struggling not to take Luca’s dislike of me personally, which made me want to try harder. Primarily, because we needed to win the show. But secondly, because something was obviously bothering him, and the thought that I could have done something to offend him sent waves of nausea coursing through me. I couldenvision a victory with the winner’s bonus for the first time, and I didn’t want to lose it because Luca didn’t likeme.
“We’re going to start today with a few simple steps that you might have already practiced in pre-season training. You can obviously skate well, so you don’t need me to show you the beginner basics, which is great.” I smiled, ignoring the tingling in my fingers. I dug my nails into my palm, welcoming the pinch of pain and distraction. “After a few more laps, we’ll practice stopping, swizzles, stroking, and maybe some backward swizzles, if we have time.”
He nodded.
