‘What does she want?’ Gina snapped at Vittoria. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach, as though she’d swallowed a mouthful of stones. She had a creeping sensation that she was teetering on the edge of a precipice, about to fall.
Vittoria looked confused and taken aback by her tone. Nothing usually fazed Gina, but Lucia de Santis had clearly rattled her. ‘I don’t know what she wants, she didn’t say. What’s the matter, Gina? You’ve dealt with bigger divas in your time. I know she’s a pain in the ass, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.’
‘Yes, you’re right. Sorry, Vee, I’m a little tired.’ Gina smiled reassuringly, standing up and smoothing down her trouser suit as she snapped back into ice-queen mode. She didn’t want Vittoria to suspect that anything was wrong.
‘That’s my girl,’ Vittoria winked. ‘Time to show that diva who’s really in charge around here.’
Gina laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I will.’
In the elevator ride to the Royal Suite, her stomach was churning, and Gina willed herself to stay calm. What could Lucia possibly want with her that she couldn’t get from Massimo?
Gina’s mind was circling, but she kept coming back to the same idea: She knows.
Gina caught herself sharply, telling herself not to be so ridiculous. Lucia had scarcely looked at her; she probably had some ludicrous request involving repainting the entire suite or procuring a basket of white kittens that Massimo didn’t know how to deal with.
Faking confidence, Gina strode down the hallway, but her heart was beating wildly as she arrived outside Lucia’s suite and knocked on the door.
No one answered, and for a moment Gina dared to hope that Lucia had gone out; that it had all been a misunderstanding and Gina could get back to work and carry on with her day. But as she turned to leave, her kitten heels grinding into the carpet, the door flew open.
Lucia was standing there, looking resplendent in a little black Gucci dress, its plunging neckline and clinging fit showing off every curve. Her nails were blood red, like talons, her white-blonde hair poker-straight, and the expression on her face was like a cat toying with a mouse.
‘Miss de Santis, I understand you sent for me. What can I do for you?’
Lucia looked her up and down, her feline eyes resting on Gina’s face for just a little longer than she was comfortable with. ‘You’d better come in,’ she snapped, ‘I’m sure you don’t want to talk out here in the corridor, where anyone might overhear.’
Reluctantly, Gina stepped into the suite, the door closing behind her with an ominous click.
‘What can I do for you, Signora de Santis?’
‘I know who you are.’ Lucia spun around to face Gina and her eyes were like ice, with a glittering fire at the heart of them.
Though she felt as though her legs could give way at any moment, Gina held her nerve. ‘I don’t understand what you mean. I think you must have mistaken me for someone else.’
Lucia laughed menacingly. ‘I’m never mistaken. I might seem like a spoilt princess to the world, but it wasn’t always so. I can still pay attention, and I see what matters.’
Lucia walked over to the window, staring out at the city, not looking at Gina. ‘The press love a good story, a rags-to-riches tale. It makes for a great read. All the public see now is what I’ve become – celebrated, rich, famous. But none of them really understands what I’ve been through or what I’ve had to overcome. They don’t know what it was like to grow up with nothing.
‘Now I can dine in the finest restaurants, but you can never forget the gnawing feeling of hunger every night in your belly, because all you’d had to eat was a piece of stale bread your brother had managed to steal for breakfast. Now I can spend millions of lire on designer dresses, but I’ll always remember what it’s like to have nothing but the clothes on your back, tattered and threadbare. Always cold, always hungry …’
Lucia’s gaze was focused on the incredible view across the lagoon, but Gina knew that – right now – she wasn’t seeing any of it, transported back to her childhood and the chilling memories she described.
‘Nothing can erase the fear of poverty, of never having any money because your papà has selfishly spent what little the family has on another bottle of grappa, while you hide beneath your bedsheets, terrified to hear him return home because you don’t know if he will be drunk, and show his frustration at life with his fists. So you spend most of your time living in a daydream, imagining another life, because you can’t wait to escape the one you have …’
Lucia turned around and fixed Gina with a hard stare, her expression impossible to read. ‘I think that we are alike, you and I. That you know all too well what it was like to grow up in poverty and to claw your way out, whatever the consequences. Yes, Gina Bellini, I think you understand me very well.’
Gina said nothing, and wasn’t sure she could speak if she tried. Where was Lucia going with this, and what did she want with her?
‘I knew that my voice would be my way out. I was always singing – at home, at school, in church.’ Lucia fixed Gina with a meaningful look. ‘I longed to be discovered, knowing it would be my only escape from being married off to an uneducated peasant boy.’ Her voice dripped with disdain. ‘But I knew that no one would help me, and I would have to use what God had given me.’ She swept her hand down her body, highlighting her curves and her full breasts. ‘No one was going to find me in that forgotten backwater, I had to take matters into my own hands. When my father took things too far and almost killed my little brother one night after staggering home drunk out of his mind, I knew I had to get out, or next time it would be me.’
The cruel look was gone from her face now, and Gina could see raw emotion there, the trauma of her past plain to see across her tortured features. ‘I fled to the city one night, with only the clothes I stood up in.’ Lucia looked away, her eyes low. ‘Those days were hard, harder than even the myth La Leonessa tells. I would have done anything – anything – I could to get what I wanted. You have no idea of the sacrifices I made.’
Now she looked up again, pride and defiance in her face.
Gina met Lucia’s eyes with her own. ‘You aren’t the only one. Most people have to make sacrifices …’
Lucia glared at her angrily. ‘What did you have to do? What price have you paid to escape, Gina Bellini?’
Maria Monti was sprinting through the woods, branches clawing at her face, her cheeks wet with tears. She was sobbing, panting, out of breath but unable to stop running, as though the hounds of hell were chasing her.
There was mud and leaf detritus on her hands. It had oozed under her fingernails; the cuticles were black with dirt.
She stumbled over a tree root and almost fell but didn’t slow down. Running, must keep running, don’t stop!
She was almost home; nearly there, so close, and then everything would be all right. Home meant safety; nothing bad could happen to her there. She could bury herself beneath her blankets, hide in her bed, and not have to face the consequences of what she’d done …
Gina blinked, pulling back her shoulders and lifting her chin, looking straight at Lucia. When she spoke, her voice was calm and controlled. ‘Why have you called me here, Signora de Santis? How can the White Palace be of service to you?’
A feline smile spread across Lucia’s beautiful face, her composure returned. ‘That man – your friend, Marco. I want to have dinner with him.’
Gina frowned. That was the last thing she’d been expecting. A new feeling rose within her – was it jealousy? Possessiveness? Gina wasn’t sure, but she sure as hell didn’t want La Leonessa getting her claws into Marco.
‘I’m a concierge, not a matchmaking service,’ she shot back, her hackles rising. ‘Besides, he’s a married man.’
Lucia gave a tinkling laugh, which was anything but humorous, and her eyes glittered dangerously. ‘That has never held me back before. All you need to do is provide what I ask for. You wouldn’t want a story getting out about how La Leonessa was so disappointed with her stay at the White Palace. Its standards have dropped terribly – it’s all style and no substance – and she would strongly recommend to all her well-connected friends that they stay elsewhere the next time they’re in Venice.’
Gina inhaled sharply, trying to keep her temper. It felt as though the walls were closing in on her. ‘That story wouldn’t be true, but our guests come first, we pride ourselves on it. Plus, I can’t guarantee—’
‘I’ve spoken to Brad, and he thinks it’s a wonderful idea. So, I think you’d better try your absolute hardest to make it happen, don’t you? We wouldn’t want your little secret getting out either …’
