I sit in my dressing gown, watching Shawna pull out a variety of skimpy outfits and chuck them on the bed next to me.

“How about this one? I love this dress. I pulled Pierre in it,” she says, holding up what appears to be two silver hankies tied together with string.

“Um, I think I might be a bit cold in that one,” I say diplomatically. Frankly, I would look like a slut, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings. Despite what she said earlier, I am a little shapelier than her lean figure. Basically, I had tits and an arse, and I’d be falling out all over the place in that skimpy number.

“Hmm, I see what you mean. Although the club gets pretty steamy, you only really need your ski jacket to throw over you until you’re inside. Then you’ll be thanking me for making you wear something like this.”

“What about my legs?” I ask.

“What about your legs?” Shawna laughs. “You’ll get used to the cold, I promise.”

“Sure I will,” I say, not at all convinced.

“So, what are you going to wear then? If you want to pull, thermal underwear and jeans just aren’t going to cut it.” She taps her finger against her cheek, looking thoughtful. “Oh, I know. How about this t-shirt, and this mini skirt?”

I take my Pink Floyd t-shirt from her and shake my head at the mini skirt. “I’ll wear this t-shirt, with these,” I say, picking up some black, fake leather skinny jeans. They are the only thing she’s brought that is remotely normal looking. “And those,” I say, pointing to my trusty pair of biker boots.

She considers the outfit for a moment. “Well, I suppose it is sexy in a rock-chick kind of way. Hell, why not? But don’t blame me when you turn into a sweaty mess. You have been warned.”

I pull on the clothes whilst Shawna makes herself at home, sniffing my perfume and looking through the small amount of makeup I’ve brought with me. I smudge on some kohl eyeliner to highlight my blue eyes, add a dash of lip gloss and I am done.

“What do you think?” I ask.

Shawna grins. “The boys are going to love you! God, I wished I could pull off a look like that. It totally suits you. You’re like Debbie Harry, although a thousand times better looking.”

“Thanks, I think.”

* * *

Before heading to the club, we stop off at Shawna’s place for an hour to have a few glasses of red wine and to pick up a ski pass she forgot to give me earlier. I take it, but don’t tell her that I’m not planning on doing any skiing. I can barely walk on the snow, let alone ski on it.

Another ten, treacherous minutes’ walk later we arrive at Le Carnaval club. It is not dissimilar to the other surrounding buildings, the only defining difference is a large neon sign that flashes red against the wooden façade. Out front is a large seating area where a load of people are congregating, drinking and smoking. Shawna spots Pierre and pulls me along. I try not to fall on my arse in front of the crowd.

“Hey everyone, this is Louisa, she’s staying in the Palace at the top of the hill.”

I hear a chorus of hellos before they all turn back to their conversations.

“Palace?” I ask Shawna, but she’s already gone over to a group of girls and is animatedly chatting away. They laugh, and I wonder whether she is telling them stories about her sex life. They are pretty amusing.

“That’s what the locals call it because it’s so posh,” a guy with smiling blue eyes says. He holds out his hand. “I’m Luke, good to meet you.”

I take his hand and shake it. “Nice to meet you too,” I say, but it comes out sounding weird because my teeth are chattering so much. He laughs.

“You’ll acclimatise soon enough. Want to go inside?”

“Sure,” I say. I give a little wave to Shawna and she gives me the thumbs up.

Inside, the club is a hell of a lot warmer than outside and it doesn’t take long for me to regret wearing fake leather trousers. After putting my coat in the cloakroom, Luke takes me to the bar and orders us both a pint of local beer. I don’t actually like beer, but I am too polite to refuse it and murmur my thanks instead. We sit on the barstools, chatting small talk and watching the crowd. He’s nice, but not really my type. For the next half an hour, he tells me how he arrived the same time as Shawna, that he has been coming to the resort every year for the last five years and that there are no better slopes to ski on, in his opinion. I nod my head and smile at all the right times but find myself losing interest pretty quickly. While he drones on about the different slopes and their difficulty grades, my attention turns to the club interior.

The lighting in the club is dim, and the dance floor is already heaving with scantily clad girls and sweaty men. There are swathes of red material hanging from the ceiling in folds, like the roof of a circus. In each corner there are dancers dressed in outfits not dissimilar to what you would find people wearing at a carnival in Rio. I briefly wonder how they manage to move in them, let alone dance so freely.

I am just about to tell Luke I need the toilet when a cute redhead comes over and plonks herself on his lap. She throws me a territorial look and within seconds they start snogging. Feeling decidedly relieved and not in the least bit jealous, I hop off the seat in search of Shawna.

The club is bigger than I thought, and I end up circling it a few times before spotting Shawna in a dark corner sitting astride Pierre. She is laughing hysterically at something he has just said. Half a second later they are kissing. I roll my eyes, take a long drink of my beer, and watch the throng of dancers from my spot at the edge of the dance floor.

“Can I get you another?” a deep voice says from behind me, making me jump.

“Shit,” I say spilling half the beer down my top. I turn around and look up into a pair of familiar green eyes. “You,” we both say simultaneously.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, the tone of my voice sharper than I intended.

He looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on my chest. “Pink Floyd, eh? I hadn’t pinned you for an alternative chick.”

I am immediately offended by his assumption. The fact that he is wearing a tight fitted black shirt and expensive looking jeans, with his hair perfectly coiffed, is exactly what I expected from him. “Funny,” I say, waving my hand up and down at him. “I had you sussed from the moment I met you. There’s plenty of women here without any brain cells, so I guess this place is right up your alley.” I ignore the look of surprise on his face and peer around his shoulder. Walking towards us are his brothers, Max and Bryce. Bryce grins when he spots me, showing a set of perfect white teeth, and Max looks at me with one eyebrow raised, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Well, if it isn’t the Ice Queen,” he says.

“Well, if it isn’t the Three Brothers Dim,” I quip, watching the smiles fall from their faces. I down the rest of my beer and slam the glass on the table next to me. “Night boys,” I say, turning my backs on them. I can feel the heat of their gaze as I walk across the dance floor and up the stairs to get my coat. I don’t give them a second thought as I head out of the club and back to the chalet.

A few slippery minutes later I am back inside. The place is as I left it, aside from a mug tipped upside down on the draining board. Funny, I’m pretty sure I put everything away after I’d made myself tea and toast earlier. Shrugging, I head to the lower ground floor past the long glass wall, on the other side of which is the pool, sauna and steam room, and head into my room. I peel off my clothes, and despite the freezing walk back, a light sheen of sweat is covering my legs. I remind myself never to wear those leather trousers again. As I undress, an errant thought enters my head. Feeling decidedly rebellious, I grab a towel from my en-suite, wrap it around my body and head out into the pool area.

The pool itself has underwater lighting which highlights the expensive-looking blue mosaic tiles, and the room is lit a soft pink, giving the space a very exclusive spa-like feel. I walk across to the loungers and drop my towel on top of one, enjoying the warmth from the underfloor heating and the thrill of being naked. For a moment, I allow myself to imagine that the chalet is my own home and try not to squeal in excitement at how ridiculously happy that makes me feel. The locals were right, this place is a palace. I step down into the pool. The water is like a warm bath and I sink under the surface gratefully. Once acclimatised, I begin swimming lengths, completely butt-naked. It is quite exhilarating. Up and down I go, concentrating on how the water feels against my skin. I’ve always been good at swimming and had been on my school swim team. At least I was until I had to pull out in my last year due to Mum becoming more of a problem. She would turn up at my club pissed and almost always caused a scene. I dropped out through sheer embarrassment.

After a good half hour of doing laps, I decide to test my underwater swimming skills. I manage to make it from one side of the pool to the other in one breath. When my head breaks the surface, I am startled to find myself staring up at Green-eyes.

“Well, hello again,” he murmurs, his eyes roving over my nakedness. My body finally catches up with my brain, and I attempt to cover myself.

“As much as I appreciate a naked woman as well as any man, do you mind telling me what you are doing in our chalet?”

My mouth pops open as my brain struggles to find an answer. Our chalet? Eventually, realisation dawns. “You’re my designated family?” I say, just as Max and Bryce step into the room. They stop talking as soon as they see me.

“Damn,” they say in unison.