TWENTY-FOUR HOURS EARLIER
Huge, snowcapped mountains rise up behind the town, their jagged peaks piercing the bright blue sky. The Martial range cradled the southernmost town in the world—Ushuaia—and, with it, the gateway to Antarctica.
An icy breeze swirled around her body as Olivia stared out at the slate-gray sea. Half a dozen yachts were moored in the harbor and birds splashed in the surf, fighting over a silvery fish nabbed from beneath the surface. The waves were calm, lapping gently against the stone walls of the dock. For the moment there was no sign of the ferocious, stormy weather that this part of the world was notorious for.
She knew some people found comfort by being near water. Not her. For her, the sight of the water brought up a fear that caught in her throat, threatening to choke her.
She gripped the metal railing, took a breath and focused on the large ship docked in the port. The MS Vigil. Tomorrow, it would take her across one of the world’s most perilous bodies of water—the Drake Passage—to the final continent. The ship was a converted icebreaker from Norway, designed to chop through icy waters and sail through polar storms with ease. She’d read up on the specifications for the ship and its captain’s impeccable safety record. She knew she had nothing to worry about.
But the fear remained.
Movement on the dock caught her eye. Two men strolled down the gangplank from the Vigil. When she was sure one of them was her boyfriend, Aaron, she waved, glad of the distraction. Her palms stung as she let go of the cold iron.
She wasn’t sure if he’d seen. If he had, he didn’t acknowledge her. About halfway toward her, they stopped, speaking with their heads close. They shook hands before they parted, and Olivia watched as the second man stalked off in the opposite direction. She didn’t recognize him from the meeting that morning, but that wasn’t a surprise—she’d been introduced to so many people, and his face was covered by the fur-trimmed hood of his parka. He could have been anyone.
Olivia frowned, but then Aaron turned to her. His cheeks were flushed from being blasted by the freezing air, his normally perfectly set curly brown hair disheveled in the wind. He gave her a wide smile.
“Feeling better, Livi?” he asked once he’d made it through the security gates separating the dock from the park. He kissed her firmly before she could answer.
No, she wanted to say. I’m not ready. I’ll wait for you here, safe, on land. But she swallowed down her anxiety. She knew this was a make-or-break moment for them—in their relationship and their business. He’d put his trust in her again, even after how badly she’d messed up on the night of his big auction.
Still, he wasn’t fooled. “Once we’re underway, I know you’ll love it. The ship is incredible—it feels like a floating boutique hotel. You won’t even know you’re on the water.”
“Is everything ready?” she asked, looping her arm through his as they meandered back toward their hotel.
“Still a few last-minute details.”
Aaron had been on board overseeing the installation of a special showcase of work by his star artist—Kostas Yennin. Aaron had represented Yennin’s work for years, steadily building his profile but never truly breaking him out in a big way on the art circuit. It was only after tragedy struck, resulting in Yennin’s untimely death, that his star had had a meteoric rise—his pieces selling at auction for millions
of pounds, demand from galleries and museums skyrocketing, even his social media following growing exponentially. But Aaron wanted to be careful. He’d seen so many gifted artists make a big splash but then fail to transition to blue-chip status—that top echelon of artists whose paintings consistently increased in value.
He wanted to create a lasting legacy for Yennin’s art, and that required finding a way to make him stand out from the pack. Since Yennin’s paintings had all been inspired by the beauty of the polar regions, Aaron had negotiated a deal to match artist with adventure. His work would be displayed exclusively aboard the MS Vigil and the passengers would have the unique opportunity to attend a high-end art auction at sea.
And if it was a success, the showcase format was going to be rolled out to the entire fleet of Pioneer cruise ships, turning Yennin into a worldwide household name and boosting the price of his artwork immeasurably—not to mention establishing Aaron as one of the premier art dealers in the world.
He’d start the Hunt Advisory off the back of it, to search for the next Kostas Yennin. And, to her surprise, he wanted her to join him. “With your brilliant financial mind to balance my creative vision, we could be unstoppable,” he’d said.
She hadn’t known what to say. She thought she’d screwed up everything that night. Her career. Her relationship. Her mental health. But he’d offered her this lifeline and she’d grabbed it with both hands. This was her chance to rebuild.
“What’s the issue?” she asked.
“The auctioneer from Art Aboard is going to be the death of me. Stefan Grenville. I wish we could have chosen our own person.”
It had been a frustrating but necessary compromise: Art Aboard had the experience of running auctions on cruise ships, so Aaron had agreed to partner with them. “Next time, you will be able to. I really should have been there to help.”
Aaron squeezed her arm. “You needed to rest. Besides, if all goes to plan, you’ll be plenty busy on board—and when we get back. I need you in top form by then.”
She nodded, leaning against his arm so he couldn’t read the expression of doubt on her face. Top form. When had she last felt like she’d been on her game? That version of herself was a distant memory, one she wasn’t sure even existed anymore. Did she even want to be that person again? Before she’d met Aaron, she’d had one goal: to qualify as an actuary as fast as humanly possible, make partner at her firm, and finally get the pay bump she needed to support her mother—who needed round-the-clock care. Every month, between her own
rent and her mother’s nursing home fees, she was barely scraping by. With every passed exam, she got a small pay raise, but it never seemed to be enough.
And so five a.m. wake-up calls, sixty-hour workweeks, late-night study sessions…that had become her norm. The thought of slowing down—of letting go of her viselike grip on her career ladder—had seemed unthinkable. Even when she’d met Aaron, the thought of easing off on her laser-like focus on her goal had never entered her mind. In fact, she’d wanted it more than ever. He lived in a world so full of glamor and sophistication. She’d loved being part of it, but she wanted to match him—not rely on him.
On the surface, they’d been living a dream life.
The reality was: it was impossible to sustain.
That night, it all got too much. She’d broken down completely, with disastrous consequences.
She thought Aaron would never trust her again.
This was her rock bottom. She’d called her doctor: anxiety and burnout, he said. On one hand it had been a relief to have it confirmed. On the other—she felt helpless. She knew she couldn’t go back to the way she lived and worked before, but it was the only way she knew. Even taking a leave of absence from her job, going to therapy, trying to slow down and recharge, hadn’t felt like enough.
All the while, things for Aaron had been skyrocketing. When he came to her with his plan for the Hunt Advisory, he’d thrown her a true lifeline. An opportunity to use her skill set, earn a good living and maybe even take some time to enjoy life too.
But it all would depend on the launch of the showcase in Antarctica. And that meant facing another fear of hers.
One she thought she could keep buried forever.
Why? Why did it have to be on a boat?
Her therapist had helped her to reframe it.
You won’t be responsible, he’d told her, after she’d explained why she was so anxious about the trip.
And he was right. There was an entire crew manning the ship. An experienced captain. Top-of-the-line navigation equipment.
You won’t have to keep watch.
She would just be a passenger, able to relax and enjoy the journey. It wouldn’t be like last time.
You won’t be responsible.
And then there was the destination: Antarctica. When she said the word out loud she expected
to fall into a deep pit of grief. It had been a place that had achieved almost mythic status in her family growing up: the only continent her dad had left to visit before he died. But instead, she found herself smiling. Long-forgotten memories surfaced: how he’d spread maps out on their kitchen table showing her the various routes to the South Pole, how he’d sit on the end of her bed in the darkness and tell her about his desire to sail through the last truly untouched wilderness, past towering icebergs, spotting humpback whales and leopard seals, meeting penguins, and crossing over the Antarctic Circle to witness the midnight sun. His bookshelves had teetered under the weight of thick Shackleton and Scott biographies—had he been born in that era, she was sure he would have been one of the intrepid explorers himself. As a girl, she had absorbed his excitement, snuggling up to a cuddly penguin toy at night and dreaming of one day visiting “the Ice.”
She’d been sixteen when he died. After that, her mother had banished his vast library to the rubbish dump, and scrubbed all mention of sailing, boats or exploration from their home.
Olivia had never questioned it. Why should she? After all, his death had been Olivia’s fault.
She shook her head violently.
This time, you’re not responsible. She took a deep breath. It was time for her to move on.
Besides, they’d come to the perfect place to start anew. Everything about the small town of Ushuaia felt fresh and crisp. It sat perched at the end of a rugged, windswept archipelago made up of thousands of sparsely populated islands called Tierra del Fuego. The name translated to “Land of Fire”—ironic considering it was so cold. The town itself was a quaint fishing port with a mishmash of houses with brightly colored roofs and steep streets leading down to the water. A watercolor stroke of dark green forest led to snow-covered mountains rising up behind and circling the town, giving it an intimate feel, despite its frontier atmosphere.
“We have a couple of hours before dinner,” Aaron said. He grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly. “Shall we head back to the hotel?”
“Hang on—I want to get a picture.” Olivia stopped by a wooden sign, a few steps away from the water.
She looked around for someone she could rope in to take the photo for them. But the square was empty. Strange. When she’d walked past before, it had been buzzing with tourists, all clamoring to get a shot.
There was only one man in the park, leaning against one of the spindly, windswept trees. His black jacket was buttoned all the way to his chin, a hat pulled down low over his brow. But his gaze caught Olivia’s, and she felt her heart leap into her throat. It was the way he was staring at her, at them.
She grabbed Aaron’s arm, but at the same time he took the phone from her and held
it up, his arm outstretched. “Let’s get a selfie, shall we?” He angled her phone so they could get both their faces in.
Olivia leaned in and smiled, putting the strange man to the back of her mind.
“Ushuaia: el fin del mundo.” Aaron read the sign aloud.
Olivia gave herself a shake. The end of the world.
And, hopefully, the start of a new chapter.
2
Olivia scrutinized the selfie, shaking off the sense of being watched. They looked good together, the cold air putting more color in her cheeks than she’d had in months. She was so used to her complexion looking gray and tired, like too-weak tea. This was a photo worthy of her Instagram. Maybe Tricia would see it and stop sending her links to articles about “burnout recovery”—pretty much the only communication they had nowadays. She knew her best friend was worried about her, but it wasn’t necessary. She had everything under control.
Instagram had become a showreel of her recovery. Maybe if she posted enough pictures, the fantasy would become a reality. Otherwise, it was just wishful thinking.
A notification popped up on the top of her screen. “Ah, it looks like our cold-weather gear is ready for pickup,” she said. “Sara says we can drop by the office now.”
“Can’t she get someone to deliver it? I’ve been running around all day. I’m shattered and with this dinner tonight—”
Olivia stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll get it. Your turn to rest.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. You’ve sorted everything on board the ship and I spent all morning relaxing in the hotel. It’s the least I can do.”
He lifted her fingers and kissed them. “You’re too good to me. See you later.”
“I won’t be long.”
He walked off in the direction of their hotel, his hands in his pockets. Olivia could read the tightness in his shoulders. She knew how important this exhibition was for him. Even though he was riding high now, the market was fickle. He was convinced it could go away as fast as it came.
That’s why he needed to cement this deal. And Olivia wanted to do everything in her power to make sure it went smoothly for him and alleviate some of the pressure on his shoulders—just like he had done for her.
She plugged the Pioneer office address into her phone, where she was going to meet Sara—the cruise ship agent based in Ushuaia, and the woman who had made all the arrangements for their voyage. Olivia oriented herself on the map, the instructions leading her down the bustling main street filled with restaurants, outfitters and touristy tat shops, before turning onto one of the side streets.
She stopped in front of a prefab single-story office building and knocked on the door. A small dark-haired woman greeted her with a warm smile. The walls of the travel agency were papered with images of icebergs, motivational posters featuring penguins, and postcards from the bottom of the world—thank-you notes from clients. “Bienvenida, Olivia! How are things with the ship? Is Aaron happy?”
“I believe so,” Olivia said with a slight shrug to disguise her discomfort. She should have had a definitive answer. But the truth was, she didn’t know if Aaron was happy or not.
Sara frowned. “If there’s anything I can do…”
“We’ll be sure to let
you know.” Olivia smiled now, in what she hoped was a reassuring way.
“Please do. In the meantime, you’ll be wanting these.” Sara pointed to two pairs of insulated waterproof trousers, along with oversized fleece-lined mittens.
“Wow.” Olivia held up the mittens—each one almost bigger than her head. “These are enormous.”
“Designed to keep you warm through the worst polar storms.”
“Not that we’ll need that,” said Olivia with a laugh.
Sara smiled. “Better to be safe than sorry. It will be a great trip. You have an incredible itinerary ahead of you. You’ve been on board already?”
Olivia shook her head. “Only Aaron. I was too jet-lagged.”
“You’re in for a treat. She doesn’t look like much from the outside, but the interior has been fully renovated—all the amenities and luxuries you can think of. It is one of the best ships for exploring the polar region.”
“I can’t wait.”
“And I see you are signed up for the kayaking and camping excursions. Those will be once-in-a-lifetime experiences, truly. It’s the perfect time of year for this kind of voyage, as after you sail across the Antarctic Circle, you’ll experience the phenomenon known as the ‘midnight sun’—a sun that never sets.”
“Oh yes. That’s the night Aaron has chosen for the big showcase auction.”
“A perfect choice. Then, when you land for your camping excursion, you’ll get the chance to sleep under what’s known as a ‘white night.’ It will never fully get dark.”
“Sounds magical,” Olivia replied. One of her burnout symptoms that she hadn’t fully recovered from was severe insomnia. She had trouble enough sleeping in the dead of a dark night in a comfortable bed, so out on the ice at least her tendency to stay awake might be rewarded with a unique experience.
Throughout their conversation, Sara’s desk phone kept ringing off the hook. Olivia glanced at it sideways. “It’s OK if you need to get that. I’ll get out of your hair.”
Sara held up her hands in apology. “Embarkation week is always frantic. Mr. Hughes has demanded a full ship, so I’m busy sorting out cabins for some last-minute additional passengers.”
Olivia nodded sympathetically. She could imagine Cutler Hughes—the CEO of Pioneer Adventures—being a demanding boss. He was famous for it. “I’m surprised anyone can get here at the last minute!”
“I have a waiting list a mile long for these cruises! There is no shortage of travelers with the flexibility to jump on board at short notice. We even have new crew starting this expedition. Antarctica is a big draw.” Sara sat down at her computer, her eyes frantically scanning the screen. “If you or Aaron need anything, anytime at all before the
ship leaves—get in touch with me. I’ll be here all night long until your ship leaves the port tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thank you—I’ll let him know.”
“If I don’t see you before then, have a great trip.”
—
The gear was cumbersome but it was only a short distance back to the hotel. While not as luxurious as some of the places she and Aaron had stayed together in Buenos Aires, Paris or Geneva, it more than made up for it with its expansive views of the wild coastline. From the vast windows of the lobby, she could see across to the harbor and the MS Vigil, the gangplank down and waiting for their arrival. Still, she couldn’t help the visceral jolt of fear at the thought of climbing the wooden steps up to the boat—and then being trapped at sea for the next fourteen days.
You won’t be responsible. She clung onto the phrase like a life jacket.
Aaron was sleeping when she snuck into their room. She wasn’t surprised—between the jet lag and the intensity of preparing the showcase and auction, he’d been working nonstop. His hair sprawled across the pillow, and she felt a surge of affection for him. She thought he’d end things with her the night of the big Yennin auction. But instead, he’d brought her in closer, when she was certain she didn’t deserve it.
They’d received instructions to leave their suitcases in the lobby, to be loaded onto the ship overnight. She wheeled the suitcases out, not wanting to disturb Aaron’s rest with her packing.
Down in the lobby, she opened her suitcase, squeezing the borrowed snow trousers and mittens into the already bulging main compartment. Then she did the same with Aaron’s. Except that Aaron’s dinner jacket was folded into the top of his suitcase. He would be fuming if she sent it on to the ship before their big client meal.
She swapped it for his gear, resting the blazer over her arm. Something tumbled out of the pocket, sliding along the polished wooden floor.
She chased after it. A little black velvet box.
Her fingers trembled as she opened it. Inside was a platinum sapphire ring, ...
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