‘Two brothers,’ Vittoria was saying, sounding gleeful. ‘It’s like a Shakespeare play!’

‘They’re brothers-in-law,’ Gina explained, wondering at herself daydreaming over a man. ‘Not brothers.’

‘Ah, that explains why they look so … different,’ Vittoria nodded sagely, trying to suppress a smirk and failing.

‘You’re not selling him to me,’ Gina frowned.

Vittoria laughed. ‘Just go and have fun. You’re young and beautiful – you should be enjoying yourself. I never see you with a man.’

‘No, I …’ Gina trailed off as she was assailed by a sudden impression: rough hands, male sweat, scratchy stubble against her skin.

‘What?’ Vittoria asked, looking at her curiously.

‘Nothing.’ Gina shook her head to clear it. ‘I’d better get going. Wish me luck.’

‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ Vittoria giggled, as she waved her off.

Chapter 16

Venice, February 1995

Harry’s Bar was a Venetian institution. Located beside the San Marco ferry station, its wooden doors were discreet and easy to miss unless you knew where to look. Inside it was equally unpretentious, decorated in a pared-back, almost rustic style, with plain wooden tables and chairs and a row of stools along the bar. Despite its simplicity, it was a place to see and be seen, and the world and his wife longed to get a table at Harry’s Bar; it was one of the requests Gina dealt with most regularly for the hotel’s guests.

‘Gina …’ Edoardo was already waiting for her. He stood up, a wide smile spreading across his angular face as she walked through the restaurant towards him. His eyes ran up and down her body, unashamedly checking her out.

‘I had to pull a few strings to get a table here at such short notice, I can tell you,’ Edoardo continued, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. He was wearing a black shirt, unbuttoned a little too low to reveal a silver chain nestled amongst a mane of chest hair, and had doused himself liberally in Acqua di Parma aftershave. He was good-looking, Gina had to admit, but not her type at all. She suspected he’d taken longer to get ready than she had.

‘You look spectacular, by the way,’ he added, leaning across to kiss her on both cheeks, one hand on her waist which lingered a moment too long.

‘Thank you,’ Gina said shortly. She was acutely aware that she didn’t want Edoardo to get the wrong idea about this meeting, but she’d already had him pegged as an incorrigible flirt.

‘You know, I’m pretty sure I saw Sylvester Stallone here once,’ Edoardo told her, glancing round the restaurant. It was at capacity and felt even busier than usual, the atmosphere lively and buzzing.

Gina wondered if she was supposed to be impressed by this possible sighting. ‘He’s stayed at the White Palace a couple of times,’ she told him.

‘Gina!’ came a cry.

She turned to see the restaurant manager, Alessandro Longo, approaching their table, and she smiled up at him in greeting.

‘How are you?’ Alessandro asked her. ‘You look wonderful. I didn’t realize you were dining with us tonight. Here, let me move you to a better table,’ he said, with a meaningful look at Edoardo.

‘No, Alessandro, you don’t need to go to any trouble …’ Gina began, mortified to realize that he thought they were on a date. ‘This is Edoardo Conti, of Elicotteri Conti. I’m working with them at the moment, through the hotel.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Edoardo.’ Alessandro shook his hand. ‘No, Gina, I insist,’ he continued, ushering them to a much quieter window table with a view of the Grand Canal, the church of Santa Maria della Salute glowing white in the darkness across the water. ‘I’ll have the waiter bring over two Bellinis right away,’ he added with a wink. ‘On the house, of course.’

‘Thanks, Alessandro.’

‘Anything for you, Gina.’

As Alessandro bustled away, Gina turned back to Edoardo. His face had fallen, disappointment written across his features. ‘You know the manager?’ he said.

Gina nodded, feeling bad for him. ‘We send a lot of clients here, from the hotel.’

‘I see. So you’ve probably been here, what, a hundred times?’

‘This is my ninety-ninth,’ she joked. ‘But it doesn’t really matter, does it? After all, we’re here to discuss business.’

‘Sure, sure,’ Edoardo replied, his bravado returning.

The waiter brought their cocktails, and Edoardo clinked his glass against Gina’s. ‘To a fruitful relationship – the working kind, of course.’

‘Of course,’ Gina said firmly, taking a sip of her drink. It was delicious, the sweetness of the peach perfectly balancing the acidity of the Prosecco. ‘You mentioned earlier that you and Marco had a number of issues,’ she said, uttering the words through gritted teeth. ‘Regarding the hotel. I thought we could run through them now, and I can set your mind at rest.’

‘Oh, that’s just Marco,’ Edoardo shrugged. ‘He takes life too seriously.’

Gina frowned, confused by his dismissal of the very topic they were supposed to be here to discuss. ‘But if there’s something wrong—’

Edoardo reached across the table, taking Gina’s hand and squeezing it in a way that was meant to be reassuring. ‘There’s not,’ he said, looking at her intently. ‘In fact, I’d like to apologize for Marco’s behaviour. He can be so prickly sometimes – bordering on unprofessional, in fact.’

‘He has a very clear idea of what he wants,’ Gina admitted, thinking back to the first time she’d met him in Brad’s suite.

‘Exactly,’ Edoardo nodded. ‘I knew you’d understand. I’ve tried to explain to my father that Marco’s attitude could be detrimental to the business, but he doesn’t seem to see it.’

Gently, Gina withdrew her hand from Edoardo’s, uncomfortable with the physical contact. ‘Marco said your father had been very good to him,’ she remarked, hoping her comment might placate Edoardo.

‘Did he? Too good, some might say. My father is generous to a fault, and loyal too. I worry that he might get taken advantage of.’

‘But it sounds as though Marco’s great at what he does,’ Gina pressed, trying not to think about her reasons for defending him. ‘He’s got a superb reputation within the industry, hasn’t he?’

‘Is that what he told you?’ Edoardo said, raising an eyebrow sceptically. ‘I bet he didn’t mention the accident where …’ He broke off as the waiter appeared to take their order – fish crudo followed by tagliatelle for Gina, carpaccio then veal for Edoardo.

‘Would you like wine? Or champagne?’ Edoardo asked her.

‘I’ll stick to water – I have to work early tomorrow.’

‘Nonsense,’ Edoardo replied, as he ordered a bottle of Casa di Russo red. ‘You’re a full-blooded Italian woman. It’s your patriotic duty to drink wine.’

Gina laughed. Despite her reservations, there was something rather entertaining about Edoardo.

‘How long has Marco been married to your sister?’ she asked, keeping her tone casual.

Edoardo looked taken aback by the question. ‘My sister’s d—’ he began, then knitted his brow, a different expression coming over his face. He looked sly for a moment, and Gina frowned, wondering whether she’d said something wrong.

‘Marco and Stephana were married nine years ago,’ Edoardo said finally. ‘They had my niece, Daniela, a year later.’ He took a sip of his drink and settled back in his chair, looking at her. ‘The problem with Marco,’ Edoardo continued, warming to his theme, ‘is that he doesn’t care about the business the way I do.’

‘No?’ Gina replied. This wasn’t the way she wanted the conversation to go, but she drank her wine and let him speak.

‘You see, it was my father who founded the business – it’s my family name above the door.’