‘I’m afraid I haven’t had that honour.’

‘You should come and watch me at La Fenice. I’ll arrange a box for you all,’ she offered generously, her gaze lingering on Marco and Brad.

‘You’re too kind.’

‘I’m afraid I have much to attend to,’ Gina cut in, tired of watching Lucia flirting. ‘But do let me know if there’s anything at all I can assist you with – though I’m sure Massimo is attending to your every need.’

Lucia didn’t acknowledge that Gina had spoken, her dazzling eyes flicking between Brad and Marco, like a lion trying to decide which zebra to devour first. ‘Well, it was wonderful to meet the two of you,’ Lucia murmured. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

She left without a further word, Massimo following at her heels. The trace of her perfume still lingered, and there was a brief moment of stunned silence before Brad puffed out an audible breath.

‘What a woman,’ he chuckled. ‘I’ve dealt with some divas in my time, but I think she takes the crown.’

Gina was uncertain how she felt about the encounter. She was gratified that Lucia had paid no attention to her, but couldn’t help notice how she’d fawned over Marco.

‘Do you think you might’ve found a new star for your movie?’ Marco asked Brad, a smile playing around his lips.

Brad laughed. ‘Crazier things have happened. But I’m certainly not going to turn down a night at the opera. Who wouldn’t want to watch the world’s finest soprano at the top of her game. Marco, Gina, are you in?’

Gina exchanged a glance with Marco, and the two of them smiled at one another.

‘Sure. Why not?’ Marco said easily. ‘How about you, Gina?’

Gina couldn’t shake the feeling that accepting Lucia’s invitation was a bad idea – that the less time she spent around La Leonessa, the better. But Marco and Brad were looking at her, both willing her to agree, and her guests’ wishes should always come first. Gina found herself saying, ‘Of course. I’d love to.’

Chapter 11

Gran Teatro La Fenice was one of the most celebrated opera houses in the world. It had hosted the world premieres of works by Verdi, Rossini and Bellini, and had twice been destroyed by fire, standing in its current incarnation since 1837.

From the outside, La Fenice – meaning ‘The Phoenix’ – was rather unassuming, compared with the array of ornate buildings for which the city was famous. Tucked away in a warren of streets, opposite the San Fantin church, it was a square, stone building, with a columned entrance and a balustrade balcony on the upper floor of the front façade. Tonight, scores of opera-goers streamed up the steps to the main door, all dressed in their finery, the freezing night air abuzz with anticipation.

Gina was buoyed by the excitement, exhilaration coursing through her. She’d attended performances at La Fenice on a number of occasions over the course of her career, but there’d never been an occasion quite like tonight. It was the opening of La Traviata, with the world’s most famous soprano, Lucia de Santis, in the starring role of Violetta. A triumphant homecoming, the press were calling it, and all before the diva had even sung a note. The expectation was feverish.

Gina glanced to her right to see Marco striding up the steps beside her. He looked incredible in a full tuxedo, a woollen overcoat slung casually over the top but left unbuttoned. Marco was one of those guys who should live in a tux, Gina reflected. Some men looked too slick and smooth in black tie, but with Marco’s rugged, grizzled physique, he looked so masculine that Gina had caught her breath.

She was glad that she’d made an effort with her appearance too, in a midnight-blue, off-the-shoulder dress in crushed velvet, which fitted her slender waist perfectly before dropping to the floor in a full skirt. Her blonde bob was pulled up in an elegant chignon, her make-up pared back, highlighting her natural beauty.

Gina had thought she’d caught Marco glancing at her appreciatively, but that was impossible, surely. He was a happily married man with a young daughter.

As though he’d read her mind, he turned to her and smiled, the expression transforming his serious face, and Gina felt her stomach flip over. Oh, this was ridiculous, she told herself sharply, telling herself to tear her eyes away from him and focus on where they were going.

Brad would be joining them later; he would have caused a riot if he had gone in through the main entrance with the general public, and Lucia would never forgive him for upstaging her. He planned to slip in through a back entrance shortly before the performance began, and join them in the box Lucia had organized for them. Which meant that, for now, Gina and Marco were alone together.

‘This isn’t how I thought I’d be spending my evening,’ Marco smiled as he looked around the lobby, taking in the extravagant surroundings.

‘And I certainly didn’t expect to be a guest of Lucia de Santis,’ Gina laughed.

‘Let’s enjoy ourselves and make the most of it while we’re here,’ Marco grinned. ‘Can I get you a drink? A glass of champagne perhaps?’

‘Thank you,’ Gina replied gratefully. She rarely drank, but technically she wasn’t working, and a drink would calm her racing nerves and settle the fluttering in her tummy. Besides, she would have a moment to compose herself while Marco went to the bar.

She looked around, pulling back her shoulders and lifting her chin, standing tall on her silver strappy heels. The entrance foyer of La Fenice was spectacular, with marble pillars and a painted ceiling and two enormous chandeliers of jewelled spheres surrounded by rings of candle lights. Right now the lobby was filled with the great and good of Venice – politicians, aristocrats, socialites, artists, philanthropists – all chatting and drinking and smoking. Gina knew many of them, nodding across the room and waving hello to those she recognized.

With a pang, she realized that her wrist was bare; she always wore her grandmother’s bracelet on special occasions, and was devastated that she had lost it in the crush of Carnevale. Gina felt naked without it. She’d thought about putting an advert in the local paper, or offering a small reward, but the chances of getting it back seemed remote. It seemed likely that Gina would have to accept that her keepsake had gone for ever. She had so few memories from home – few good ones, anyway …

‘You look deep in thought,’ Marco commented, as he returned with two flutes of champagne.

Gina smiled, embarrassed to have let her mask slip for a moment. ‘Yes, I was just thinking about … Oh, it doesn’t matter,’ she finished, not wanting to admit how upset she was about losing a piece of jewellery.

‘You must be used to this sort of event, with your job,’ Marco said easily.

‘You’d think, but I never take things for granted. We’re very lucky, don’t you agree?’

‘Of course, but nothing is what it seems, even behind all this glamour. Well, backstage looks very different, a lot of hard work and effort by people we will never meet.’

She laughed, ‘I know the feeling; all the magic happens out on stage.’

‘Yet nothing would happen if it weren’t for the magicians pulling all the strings out back.’

Gina looked up at the ornate stucco plaster, the diamonds worn by the patrons glittering in the low lights of the auditorium, feeling the hum of excitement in the crowd. ‘I think Lucia could stand on a cardboard box and the world would listen.’

‘They wouldn’t dare not to.’ Marco grinned playfully and Gina couldn’t help smiling too.

‘Are you a fan of La Traviata?’ Marco asked her seriously. ‘All that thwarted love and tragedy. “Let us be joyful, for love is a fleeting and short-lived joy”.’

‘Of course, you can’t live in Venice and not know about the death of Violetta,’ Gina nodded. For an instant, she thought she saw a look of pain pass across Marco’s face, but then disappear as quickly. Maybe she had imagined it.

‘Let’s have a toast. What shall we drink to?’ Marco asked her.

‘To a successful opening night?’ Gina suggested.

‘Yes … And to love.’

‘Love?’ Gina felt a blush spring to her cheeks.

‘We don’t want a toast to tragedy,’ Marco teased.

‘No, of course not,’ Gina agreed, feeling wrong-footed. ‘Let’s toast those invisible people backstage; the ones who create the magic.’

‘Yes, people like you and me,’ Marco grinned at Gina. ‘So, a toast to us then.’ Marco held her gaze as they clinked glasses, but Gina looked away. She was beginning to feel light-headed, even though she’d only drunk a sip of alcohol. She noted that Marco was familiar with the tragic tale of La Traviata. He was attractive, intelligent and cultured, she realized.

The gong rang out, providing a welcome distraction, signalling that the performance was about to start and patrons should take their seats.

‘Let’s go and find our box,’ Marco said, taking her arm, as Gina followed him out of the lobby and up the sweeping staircase, feeling a sense of déjà vu. Where had she felt like this before? Before she could ponder further, Gina found herself amidst a sea of couture gowns, noting Rolexes on wrists and jewels the size of quails’ eggs hanging from slender necks. There was a light hubbub of chatter amongst the crowd, a whiff of expensive perfume and expectation in the air.

It was almost a relief to get to their box, away from the crush of the other patrons, but as Marco guided her to her seat, Gina realized that Brad hadn’t arrived yet and she was now trapped in a confined space with Marco, the door closed shut behind them. The air seemed to fizz with electricity, and Gina wondered whether Marco felt it too, or if it was all a figment of her imagination. She wondered what was happening to her; she’d never felt such a strong attraction to a man before, and she forced herself to focus on his wedding ring to suppress the feelings coursing through her body.

The box itself was beautifully ornate, a profusion of gilt and velvet and historic detailing. The theatre itself was a lavish horseshoe of gold boxes facing towards the red-curtained stage, in front of which the orchestra were playing a sweeping overture. The ceiling was painted with mythical figures on a background of blue sky, and hanging from the centre of it was the largest chandelier Gina had ever seen.