Marco frowned. ‘Your brain’s in your pants as usual then?’
Edoardo rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about what she’d look like without that sexy suit …’
‘Edoardo,’ Marco sounded irritated. ‘We’re here to work.’
‘I bet she’s got a dirty side.’
‘Edoardo, shut up.’
‘Oh, lighten up, stop being so up your own ass.’
Marco’s lips clamped together in a tight line, a vein pulsing in his neck. He looked furious. Edoardo either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
‘I think I might ask Gina out on a date,’ Edoardo said lightly, watching his brother-in-law closely for his reaction.
Marco raised his eyebrows, his voice carefully controlled when he spoke. ‘Do what you’ve got to do. Just make sure your personal life doesn’t impact on this job.’
‘Do you think she’ll say yes? Or do you think she has a boyfriend?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’ Marco sounded exasperated as they headed back into the hotel. Just ahead of them, they could hear Brad finishing up his call. ‘Now, please, get your head in the game.’
‘You don’t have to lecture me on being professional,’ Edoardo shot back. ‘You know what? You can deal with this yourself – I’ll see you back at the office.’ And he stormed off across the hotel lobby, leaving Marco feeling quietly relieved.
Chapter 9
‘And this is our grand ballroom. Isn’t it spectacular?’ Gina said, watching Daniela’s eyes widen as she took in the profusion of gilt and the dramatic ceiling frescoes. Even Issy seemed impressed, and Gina knew she’d visited this room a dozen times with Brad, as it would feature in the movie.
Instinctively, Daniela ran to the centre of the room, twirling and dancing on the parquet floor. ‘I feel like a princess,’ she exclaimed.
‘Can you imagine attending a ball here two hundred years ago, wearing a beautiful dress and dancing to an orchestra?’
‘It’s like being in a fairy tale,’ Daniela beamed, as Gina admired how unselfconscious she was, pirouetting and spinning around the room. Marco and his wife were clearly doing a great job; Daniela was bright, funny and confident.
‘You’re an excellent dancer,’ Issy told her.
‘Thank you. I have lessons every week. I do ballet and jazz, though jazz is my favourite.’
‘You must be top of your class. What other hobbies do you have?’
‘I like reading and swimming too. Can I really have gelato?’
‘Yes, of course. We can go now if you want.’
Daniela nodded enthusiastically, and ran across the ballroom, laughing as she slid towards Gina and Issy on the polished floor.
Behind them they heard loud clapping and a voice shouting, ‘Brava!’
‘Olivia!’ Gina greeted Olivia warmly. The bride-to-be was dressed in a cream linen dress and a light olive Kashmir shawl.
‘And who is this beautiful young lady?’ she asked, her eyes twinkling.
‘This is Daniela,’ Gina told her. ‘She’s our guest today.’
‘Very nice to meet you.’
Gina made the introductions, as Olivia seemed to drink in the wonderful opulence around them. ‘I just thought I’d come in and take a look at the ballroom. This is my favourite room in the hotel, as you know, Gina.’
‘Isn’t this where you and Max met for the first time?’
‘That’s right, my current fiancé, soon to be my husband!’ Olivia said in explanation to Issy.
‘Congratulations!’ said Issy.
‘I can hardly dare to believe it,’ Olivia said, ‘When I think back to the very first time I met Max, in this very ballroom five years ago …’
The notes of Puccini’s exquisite Tosca floated out from the string quartet playing in the White Palace’s ballroom. Olivia knew the story of Floria Tosca’s doomed romance so well, and it always tugged at her heart strings. She and her husband, Simon, had fallen in love with the opera, and as the instrumental notes filled the beautiful baroque space, Olivia could only note the sad irony that here she was, in the eternal city, mourning her own tragic loss.
It had been six long, hard months since Simon had been taken ill at the wheel of their car, suffering a catastrophic heart attack which drove it off the road, killing him instantly and almost taking her own life. Her hip had been shattered and one of her legs crushed in the accident. Brilliant surgeons had carefully and slowly rebuilt her lower body and, after months of hospital and surgery, she was now convalescing in Venice.
Her heart … well, that would take quite a lot longer to repair. Maybe it would never mend.
The poignancy of the music was almost too much to bear, and Olivia was suddenly filled with a desperate urge to get some fresh air, to nip any tears in the bud before they threatened to overwhelm her. Gina, the concierge, had brought her into the ballroom and promised to return once the afternoon concert was over, and had in fact already checked on her twice. Olivia was relishing the performance, The music, ranging from Vivaldi to Monteverdi, had transported her away from her sadness for a short while, but now, well, Puccini was just too much.
Olivia pulled herself up with one crutch, and then reached for the other.
You can do this, she told herself, just as the physiotherapist had told her at the hospital during her rehabilitation sessions.
I’m stronger than I think I am.
