Venice, February 1995

Lucia hurried along the corridors of the White Palace. Outwardly, she was as imperious as ever, but in reality she was on a mission. And, like a heat-seeking missile, Lucia de Santis always hit her target.

Massimo scurried behind her, carrying her Hermès handbag. Until she had a new assistant, he would have to do. Besides, as her personal butler, he was supposed to be at her beck and call twenty-four seven, so she felt sure he could cope with holding a Birkin – at least until her agent arrived.

Lucia was attracting stares, sashaying through the hotel as though she were on a catwalk, hearing the excited whispers that followed her wherever she went. Lucia didn’t mind – in fact, she positively revelled in the attention. She couldn’t stand these so-called stars who bleated on about privacy; they’d soon start complaining if people stopped shouting their names. Give the public what they want – and more. That was Lucia’s motto.

She strolled past the reception desk, towards the entrance to the gardens where she’d last seen Brad and the two other men. If her calculations were correct, they’d be emerging right about now—

‘Brad, what a surprise!’ Lucia exclaimed, embracing him, reaching up from her diminutive frame to kiss him on both cheeks.

Brad looked taken aback by this bombshell bearing down on him, in a whirl of platinum-blonde hair and Chanel No. 5 perfume, but he recovered quickly from his surprise. He was used to excited women throwing themselves at him.

‘La Leonessa,’ he grinned, kissing her hand. ‘It’s an honour.’

‘We should be careful,’ Lucia giggled, with a playful wag of her finger. ‘This is how rumours start. One stray paparazzo lurking behind a pot plant and we’ll be all over the front pages tomorrow morning.’

Brad grinned his lazy grin, completely unfazed. ‘Well, we are sleeping next to one another.’

A momentary look of confusion flashed across Lucia’s beautiful face.

‘You’re just down the hall, aren’t you?’ Brad raised an eyebrow suggestively, as Lucia burst into peals of laughter, placing a hand flirtatiously on his arm.

‘Oh, you are wicked, Signor Redford. Now I shan’t be able to sleep for excitement, knowing that you’re so close by.’ She pouted her lips and batted her eyelashes coyly.

‘Holler if you need me,’ Brad joked.

Lucia was purring like a Rolls-Royce. ‘I’ll bear that in mind … Now, Signor Redford, you must tell me …’ She looked up at him innocently. ‘Is it true you’re in Venice to make a movie?’

‘Well, strictly between you and me …’ Brad teased, knowing that the story had been in all the newspapers. ‘Yes, it’s true.’

‘The new High Voltage film?’

‘Don’t tell me you’re a fan,’ Brad exclaimed, in faux shock.

‘How could I not be? The action, the excitement, the men …’ Lucia growled. ‘And are you filming at the opera?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Brad replied ruefully.

‘What?’ Lucia recoiled in mock horror. ‘But no film in Venice is complete without La Fenice. Or without …’ She let the moment hang before playing her trump card, ‘La Leonessa! Just imagine it – an extraordinary scene at the opera. Me, looking ravishing in a dress that displays all of my …’ she glanced downwards so that Brad and Marco inadvertently looked at her fulsome cleavage, ‘… acting talent, while I sing Puccini’s “O mio babbino caro”. My voice, soaring to a crescendo, as our hero races around the city …’

Lucia trailed off, having drawn the image in Brad’s mind, leaving it to take effect. She leaned in close, lowering her voice. ‘I’ll have my people call your people,’ she murmured with a triumphant smile, as Brad’s forehead creased in thought.

Across the hotel, Gina and Daniela were walking towards the elevators, making their way back to Brad’s suite. Issy had gone on ahead, and Daniela was chattering away about her friend’s party, telling Gina how much fun it had been on the opening night of Carnevale. She was very sweet and sparky, and her enthusiasm for life was joyous; Gina was surprised how much she’d enjoyed spending time with her.

‘And I made frittelle with my nanny, Rosina, and every single one of them got eaten – Sofia said they were delicious and—’

Gina glanced ahead and saw Brad and Marco standing by the doorway to the gardens, but it looked as though there was a third person with them.

‘Cazzo,’ Gina swore under her breath.

‘What did you say?’ Daniela’s head snapped up, a gleeful expression on her face.

‘Nothing. Hey, should we go this way?’ Gina suggested, steering Daniela in the opposite direction. ‘I could show you our … um … kitchens?’

But it was too late.

‘Papà!’ Daniela shouted as she spotted Marco, breaking into a run.

‘Principessa,’ Marco greeted her, as she hurled herself at him, enveloping her in a hug. ‘Did you have a nice time?’

‘I had an amazing time. Gina and Issy showed me all round the hotel, and I danced in the ballroom, then we went for gelato with Olivia too. I had stracciatella, and Gina had pistachio.’

‘Good choice,’ Marco grinned, his brown eyes sparkling as he looked across at Gina. ‘I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.’

‘No, not at all,’ Gina insisted, but she was distracted by the presence of Lucia. Her pulse was racing, her breath quickening. Gina couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the famed diva, though she was desperate for Lucia not to notice her, hoping she could somehow blend into the background.

Almost in slow motion, Lucia turned her head towards her, like a cat toying with its prey. Her eyes narrowed, and Gina’s heart began to pound.

‘Do I know you?’ Lucia asked, her voice smooth and sultry as she addressed Gina. ‘You look very familiar.’

Gina swallowed, then smiled brightly. ‘Yes, Signora de Santis. We met yesterday on your arrival. I’m Gina Bellini, the head concierge here at the White Palace. I trust you have everything you need?’

‘No, not from yesterday.’ Lucia cut her off, her red lips pursing into a pout as she scrutinized Gina. ‘I feel as though we’ve met before … Never mind. I meet so many people in my line of work, it’s hard to keep track of the staff,’ she said, with a tinkling laugh in Brad’s direction, as though expecting him to empathize. When Brad didn’t react, Lucia turned to Daniela. ‘And who’s this little poppet?’ she asked, smiling benignly, though the smile didn’t quite meet her eyes.

‘This is my daughter, Daniela,’ Marco explained, calmly. He was clearly not overawed by Lucia, and used to dealing with stars of her calibre.

Daniela, on the other hand, gasped, turning to her father with her eyes as wide as saucers. ‘Papà, is that Lucia de Santis?’ she said, in a loud whisper. ‘La Leonessa?’

‘Yes, I am, darling,’ Lucia preened. ‘It’s wonderful to meet you. And to meet you,’ she purred as her gaze flickered eagerly to Marco. ‘Now I’m certain that we haven’t met before. I’d have remembered you.’

‘It’s an honour to meet you, Signora de Santis,’ Marco said, his manner cool and composed.

‘Are you staying at the hotel too?’ Lucia turned to him, giving him her full attention.

‘No, I’m here for a meeting. I’m a stuntman with a helicopter company – Elicotteri Conti.’ Marco pulled out a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it over.

‘A stuntman? How sexy,’ Lucia purred, holding the card between red-painted fingernails and examining it with interest. ‘You’re a very useful contact to have, Marco DiMaggio. I adore travelling by helicopter. It’s such an adrenaline rush. Perhaps you could take me around the lagoon sometime?’

‘I’d be delighted,’ Marco replied evenly, and Gina noticed that, although he was scrupulously polite, he didn’t flirt back. Lucia’s charm offensive would be hard to resist for most men, but he was clearly devoted to his wife.

‘He’s my stunt double for the movie,’ Brad explained, and Lucia let out a gasp of delight, taking a step backwards to compare the two men.

‘Oh mio Dio, I see now! You are alike! It reminds me of a dream I once had …’ She smiled wickedly. ‘Tell me, are you an opera fan, Signor DiMaggio?’

‘I live in Venice. How could I not be?’

‘Have you ever witnessed one of my performances?’ Lucia asked flirtatiously.