‘All right, point taken,’ Marco smiled. ‘Why Venice?’

‘I don’t know, exactly. I’d always been fascinated by the city, even as a child. It seemed like the most magical, incredible place. Perhaps I wanted to see for myself that it really existed. That there could really be so much beauty in the world.’

‘And was it everything you’d hoped for?’

‘Yes – and more. The city’s been very good to me. I sometimes wonder when my luck will run out.’

Marco’s forehead creased in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ Gina waved away his words, worrying that she’d revealed too much. ‘Anyone would think themselves lucky to be here. Now it’s your turn.’

‘What do you want to know?’

Everything, Gina longed to reply. Tell me your hopes and dreams, your fears and passions … I want to know everything about you, Marco DiMaggio. But instead, she said, ‘How on earth did you end up as a stuntman?’

‘Fell into it by accident, if you’ll excuse the pun. I started off as an extra, then found I had a knack for jumping over cars. It’s thrilling, no doubt about it, but it’s all really down to planning and timing …’ Marco trailed off, taking a long slug of his drink.

‘What was the best job you worked on?’

‘I filmed one movie in Hawaii. The director and the star quit on day one and they took weeks to get another on board. I was just sitting around until it was sorted out. I couldn’t believe I was getting paid to lie in the sun.’

‘I can’t imagine you sitting around and doing nothing.’

Marco grinned. ‘You’re completely right. I took surfing lessons and hiked up the side of a volcano.’

Gina smiled, feeling pleased that she had read him so well. ‘You must miss your family, though, when you’re away,’ she pressed.

‘It goes with the job, but it never feels easy. I missed out on a lot from Daniela’s early years. Too much, in fact. I’ve definitely tried to make up for that in the last couple of years, taking jobs closer to home that don’t last more than a week or two. It’s rare that I travel out of Europe these days. I’ve been lucky to work with Elicotteri Conti – it means I can stay in Venice. The jobs aren’t as exciting – I spend more time piloting rich tourists around the lagoon, rather than doing stunt work – but it’s steady and reliable, and means I can be at home with my daughter.’

‘I guess your priorities shift as you get older.’

‘Hey, less of the old!’ Marco pretended to be offended but grinned good-naturedly as Gina blushed, realizing what she’d said.

‘I’m sorry, I meant—’

‘I know what you meant. It’s true. Your priorities do change. And I am getting older,’ he laughed. ‘But hopefully wiser too. I realize how lucky I am that I was accepted into my wife’s family business.’

‘Oh, I didn’t realize …’ Gina faltered as the pieces slotted into place. She didn’t want to think about the fact that he was married, but now she was confronted with the reality. ‘It’s good that you all get on so well.’

‘Kind of.’ Marco shrugged. ‘My father-in-law, Nicolò, is a great guy. I have a lot of respect for him – he’s a hard worker who took a risk when he founded the company, building it up from the ground, and now it’s extremely successful. My brother-in-law, Edoardo, on the other hand … Well, you’ve met him. He works behind the scenes and is a magician with a spanner – there’s nothing he doesn’t know about helicopters. But it’s the difference between being Brad Redford or being a faceless movie producer – one is in the spotlight, and the other is in the background, and Edoardo doesn’t always appreciate that.’

Gina nodded sympathetically, touched that Marco had confided in her. She’d opened up to him too, more than she had to anyone apart from Vittoria. Now she knew that there could never be anything more between them, and she felt unexpectedly disappointed by the realization.

Their glasses sat empty on the table in front of them, the cicchetti plates holding nothing more than crumbs. Marco glanced out of the window.

‘It looks as though the rain’s stopped.’

The streets were filling up again, the city sparkling beneath the streetlights as the droplets shimmered. Gina felt saddened that the evening was over; for a while, it had felt like just the two of them in their own private world, but now it was back to reality.

Marco insisted on settling the bill. ‘You can pay next time, when I take you to L’Ombra,’ he grinned, and Gina wondered whether he was being serious.

As he chivalrously helped her with her coat, she felt the warmth of his breath on her neck, his hands briefly brushing the bare skin of her shoulders. A stab of desire surged through her body, causing her to catch her breath, and she stepped away from him so quickly that she almost tripped.

Outside the smoky bar, the air was fresh and cool, and Gina felt that she could think more clearly. The two of them walked together through the streets, their pace unhurried as they continued to talk, until they came to the vaporetto stop. They were both crossing the Grand Canal but heading to different destinations. Gina’s boat arrived first, and she knew the evening was at end.

‘Thank you for tonight,’ she said carefully, hoping her face didn’t betray the complicated emotions raging through her.

‘You’re welcome. I had a wonderful time,’ Marco said softly, his eyes searching her face. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

Gina was swept along by the gaggle of people boarding the boat, heading inside and taking a window seat. Her eyes found Marco, standing on the jetty, tall and handsome and unmoving as the tourists flowed around him. She kept watching as the boat pulled away, her body aching with longing, her head filled with disappointment from the knowledge that they could never be together. Finally, she pulled her gaze away, turning around in her seat, determined to look forwards from now on instead of looking back.

Chapter 13

Issy was alone in Brad’s suite, taking advantage of the break while he was out at the opera to catch up on some of her work, and preparing everything he would need for the following day’s filming. He had an early call, so she’d laid out his clothing, printed out the script updates and production notes, and informed the hotel kitchen that he’d need a takeaway, protein-filled breakfast ready to go at 4.30 a.m.

Issy had her own, much smaller room down the hall – close enough that she could be there in moments if needed, but far enough away that Brad had his privacy. Tonight, it made sense to work in his suite so she could access the printer, as well as all of Brad’s luggage, to arrange everything he needed.

Issy glanced at the clock, wondering what time he would be back. She wanted to be here to greet him – she didn’t like the idea of Brad Redford coming home to an empty room. Issy knew that tonight he was a guest of Lucia de Santis, and that she was keen to have a role in his movie. Brad had laughingly confided to Issy that she was the kind of woman who didn’t expect to hear the word ‘no’.

Still, it seemed as though he might be coming round to the idea anyway. He’d been looking forward to attending the opera – Issy had hired a tuxedo for him and helped him fasten his bow tie, studiously avoiding eye contact while she did so, hardly able to believe how handsome he looked. He’d been brainstorming ways that they could incorporate La Fenice – and La Leonessa – into High Voltage 3. Issy thought she seemed more trouble than she was worth – Lucia had a reputation as a notorious diva – but she trusted that Brad knew what he was doing.

Issy switched on her laptop and was about to run through Brad’s calendar when her mobile, sitting on the table beside her, began ringing. She snatched it up quickly, assuming it was Brad, but the name flashing on the screen stopped her in her tracks. Issy hesitated, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn’t want to answer it, but knew she had no choice.

‘Hi, Mom,’ she sighed.

‘Issy? Issy, it’s me.’ Her mother voice was gravelly, and her words were a little slurred.

‘I know, Mom. How are you?’ Issy tried to keep her tone light, but she already knew her mother wasn’t calling to check in on her.

‘Can you come see me? Now?’

Issy found herself getting upset and frustrated at the same time. ‘I told you, Mom. I’m in Venice.’

There was a pause, then her mother asked in confusion, ‘Venice Beach?’

‘No, Venice in Italy. I told you, remember?’

‘What the hell are you doing there?’

‘It’s for work. Speaking of which … I have to go. It’s late here, and—’

‘Please don’t hang up.’

Issy heard the desperation in her mother’s voice and it almost broke her heart.

‘Are you still there?’

Issy paused. ‘Yes, Mom, I’m still here,’ she whispered. She wondered where her mother was, trying to build up a mental picture of her. She hoped she wasn’t in some seedy bar, or – worse – some seedy guy’s house. ‘Where are you?’