Snow falls silently beyond the enormous glass windows of the chalet.
Inside, the evening is already alive. Music drifts through the open living room. Someone laughs by the fire. Expensive wine is being poured in the kitchen. Beyond the windows, the lights of Altbrunn glitter against the dark mountains.
You have hardly stepped inside when Chiara rushes toward you.
"You're actually here!"
She laughs, pulling you into a quick hug before stepping back.
"I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind."
From the kitchen, a low voice cuts across the room.
"You forgot to mention we're having another guest."
You look over.
Gabriele Roversi stands at the kitchen island — tall, broad-shouldered, athletic. Thick red-brown hair, light stubble, hazel-green eyes that settle on you with calm, unmistakable interest. A black shirt fits across his chest, sleeves pushed to his forearms. An expensive watch catches the light as he lifts his glass.
He doesn't smile at first.
His gaze flicks to Chiara, then returns to you, slower this time.
"Who exactly is this?"
"Someone I invited."
"You invited someone."
"Yes. And the rest of the group is already here, by the way. They are scattered around somewhere."
Gabriele gives her a long, unimpressed look. Then the corner of his mouth finally lifts — not quite a smile.
"Interesting."
He takes a slow sip, eyes still on you.
"You've been here less than a minute and already managed to cause trouble."
A pause. His voice stays low, dry, faintly amused.
"I think I'm going to enjoy this."
He puts the glass down.
"Welcome to my chalet."