Cinderella's New York Christmas. Scarlet Wilson

realised he had no idea where he was going. The car from the airport had dropped his luggage at the luxury chalet booked by his PA. Trouble was, he didn’t know where that was. He pulled out his phone to search on a map. Around him people were crowding out of bars and hotels. It only took a few glances to realise that the Mont Coeur ski resort was filled with the rich, the very rich and the very, very rich.

      He knew how ironic that thought was. He was in that category—as was his newfound family. But Leo didn’t usually willingly mix in these circles. He’d always been picky about who he surrounded himself with, preferring people with their feet firmly on the ground to those who worried about climbing the social ladder.

      He could go into a bar—find somewhere to have a drink. But he wasn’t really in the mood for a drink. Distraction maybe—but not a drink.

      He checked out the map on his phone and headed down another street, this one a little quieter and leading away from the main thoroughfare.

      He probably should have hired a car or tried to find a taxi, as he realised the road towards his luxury chalet was mainly uphill. But the truth was he didn’t really mind. It gave him a little time to think about what had just happened.

      Several things burned in his mind. Giovanni had said the will had always included him. That made him feel...odd. His adoptive parents had always maintained that his real parents couldn’t wait to be rid of him. The harsh words had felt as if they’d burned their way into his soul, wounding him in a way he’d never spoken about. He’d spent years resenting both his real and his adoptive parents, feeling as if he wasn’t really wanted anywhere. Finding out now that was all untrue was more unsettling than he could have ever imagined.

      He let out a long, slow breath, sending warm air out into the icy night, clouding around him.

      Leo reached the end of the street and looked up from the map on his phone. His chalet should be off to the right, but to his left he saw Mont Coeur’s practice slopes. Even though it was nine o’clock at night, there were still a few people getting in that last run.

      They were illuminated with bright white lights, reflecting off the glossy snow, smoothed down hard by the constant traffic on the slopes. In most other ski resorts, the slopes were high above the actual towns. Mont Coeur was different. It was built halfway up the mountain, almost right in the middle of the slopes, which made them much more accessible.

      He stopped for a minute, leaning on a fence as he watched a single figure head down towards him. Dressed completely in black, the figure zig-zagged down the practically empty slope at an alarming rate of speed. Skiing was something he’d loved to do over the years and he could appreciate the skill and expertise. He frowned. Wasn’t the figure coming down just a little too fast?

      There was a loud bang to his right. His head flicked to the side, just in time to see a car with a black cloud of smoke coming from under its bonnet.

      He flicked back to the skier. Oh, no.

      They’d turned to check out the noise too, and now it was too late. In the blink of an eye he realised they hadn’t slowed their descent enough. That split-second distraction had been too much.

      They desperately tried to slow, but it was too little, too late and they hurtled into the tyres at the bottom of the practice slope with a sickening crash.

      Leo didn’t think twice. He leapt over the fence and scrambled over the thick tyres. There was hardly anyone around, and it was clear he was the closest.

      The figure was lying crumpled on the ground, skis askew and one of their legs in an awkward position. Leo slipped and slid on the snow. ‘Are you okay? Can I do something to help you?’

      He knelt down next to the figure in black. Now he was closer he could see it was a woman. The black salopettes and padded ski jacket couldn’t hide the slim curves underneath. She still hadn’t responded. He touched her arm, ‘Hi, I’m Leo. Can I help you?’

      There was a groan underneath him. The twisted leg moved and she gave a yelp. ‘Foitrottl!’

      He smiled. He may not have understood the language—was it Swiss? German?—but he understood the sentiment. Not quite as ladylike as he might have imagined. ‘Well, at least I know you’re conscious,’ he said.

      Her arms shot upwards and she snapped the fastener on her ski helmet and pushed her ski goggles upwards, revealing a mass of ice blonde hair.

      ‘What on earth was that noise?’ she said, switching to English. She was mad. She was more than mad.

      Leo couldn’t help but smile again. As well as the avalanche of blonde hair, this lady had the clearest blue eyes he’d ever seen. She pretty much looked like some kind of ice princess but he could already guess how she would take that kind of comparison.

      ‘It sounded like a combination of a car backfiring and an engine blowing up. Either way, it was loud.’

      She was digging her elbows into the snow and struggling to push herself up.

      ‘Can I give you hand?’ He stood up and reached out towards her.

      For a second he thought she might refuse, but after the briefest pause she pulled one hand from her glove and grasped his fingers tightly.

      He tugged—maybe a little more firmly than he needed to—and pulled her straight up into him. His other arm caught around her waist just as her weight hit her feet and she yelped again as her leg buckled beneath her.

      He tightened his grip and pulled her against his hip. ‘Do you think something’s broken? Do you want me to call an ambulance for you?’

      She was breathing hard and fast but her skin was pale. ‘Just give me a second,’ she gasped.

      So he did. And even though it was freezing after a few seconds he was struck by the heat emanating from her slight frame. She was taller than most women he met, but still at least six inches shorter than him. He stood silently, watching a little colour appear in her pale cheeks and her breathing eventually starting to slow. She was holding her left foot off the ground and tentatively put it back down, wincing almost immediately.

      ‘Want me to carry you?’

      Her frown was fierce but she didn’t bite his head off. Instead she leaned a little into him. ‘Nope, definitely not. Sorry to be a pest, but I’ve got a bit of an old injury. Would you mind just helping me limp back to the ski hut? There’s a buggy I can use there to get back to my chalet.’

      ‘Can you stand for a second?’ She nodded and he bent to retrieve her skis and poles before sliding his arm back around her waist and taking some of her weight. ‘Okay, then. What were you doing, practising so late? Most people are in the town by now.’

      She gripped onto his arm with her other hand as she limped alongside him, being careful not to put too much weight on her foot.

      Leo couldn’t help but ask again. ‘You’re sure that’s not broken?’

      She shook her head. ‘I’m sure. Believe me. I’ve broken a few bones in my time.’

      It was just the way she said it. He couldn’t help himself. ‘What—yours or other people’s?’

      She threw back her head and laughed, then obviously put too much weight on her bad foot. ‘Ouch.’

      Leo actions were instinctual. He dropped the skis, bent down and swept her up into his arms.

      ‘What are you doing?’ Her eyes were wide. She glanced around but it was late, the slopes were quiet, and there wasn’t really anyone else watching.

      ‘I’m carrying you,’ he said simply. He strode towards the large ski hut. ‘No point hurting yourself when you don’t need to. I’ll come back for those in a second,’ he said, noticing as she craned over his shoulder to look for her abandoned equipment. He looked down at her curiously. He could tell she was just about to object again. ‘So, have you broken a lot of bones? What are you—a ski instructor?’

      There