I’m dying to ask him why he stopped competing but I’m scared I won’t like the answer, so I attempt small talk, trying to restore the connection we used to have. “Bummer having to pay for your snowboarding now, hey? It’s not the cheapest sport.”

His smile looks forced. “Yeah, sometimes I think about moving to France. If I could speak more than five words of French, I might.”

His London accent is comforting and familiar.

But the way he’s looking at me isn’t. He’s so guarded. Leaning forward, he pulls a whiskey bottle from under the bed and holds it out. Must have nabbed it from the restaurant. “Want some?”

“No, thanks.”

He swigs from it. It’s so weird to see him drinking like this.

“Are you still modeling?” I ask.

“Nah. Too old.”

Enough of the chitchat. The childish part of me longs to ask him if he slept with Heather, but that would make us feel a million times more awkward, so I’ll leave it for another time—or press Heather about it again tomorrow.

I take a deep breath. “So who do you think invited us here?”

Brent gives me a sideways glance. “Assuming it’s not you or me, you mean?”

“Did you invite me?”

“No.”

“Okay. And I didn’t invite you.”

His dark eyes flash to my face once more. Shit. He really thought I wanted to see him again. Someone used me to lure him here, just like they used Curtis to lure me.

I pull the duvet more tightly around me. “So who was it?”

“My money’s on Curtis,” Brent says.

“Really?”

“Think about it. He has the funds.”

“Come on,” I say. “Look how mad he was after the Icebreaker. Don’t tell me that was an act. Anyway, why would he wait ten years to do this? It doesn’t make sense.”

Brent shrugs.

It seems disloyal somehow to share this with him, but I need him to know Curtis isn’t behind this. “He isn’t even sure Saskia’s dead. He freaked me out in the corridor earlier. Said he smelled her perfume.”

“He thinks she’s still alive?” Brent shakes his head. “Wishful thinking. Bound to bring back the memories, coming here. Poor guy. You saw how close they were, even though she annoyed the hell out of him. That’s why I think it’s him pulling the strings here.”

“Yeah, but here’s the thing. I smelled it, too.”

Brent looks unconvinced.

I change the subject. “Did you lot all arrive in the function room at the same time?”

“Nah, I was the first one in there. I checked the restaurant and saw it was empty. The function room seemed the next most obvious place to look.”

Interesting how he drew that conclusion faster than the rest of us. Is he the one behind this?