It was a shared moment between them, an easing of tension and a spark of connection. Marco felt a sense of triumph, as though he’d finally had a glimpse behind the mask, breaking through Gina’s controlled exterior.

‘I need to apologize to him,’ Gina said. ‘I left in rather a hurry.’

‘Don’t worry about Edoardo,’ Marco reassured her. ‘His ego might be dented but he’ll bounce back.’

They’d been walking aimlessly, without paying attention. Marco looked up, and saw they’d emerged from a side alley onto Salizzada Malipiero, near the San Samuele church.

‘I’ve just realized where we are.’

Gina glanced up too. The street was busy with people, but even without the sign on the wall, or the distinctive square bell tower, she would have known where she was. In the early days, when she’d first arrived in Venice, she’d spent her rare time off exploring the city. Then, as head concierge for the White Palace, she’d got to know the city intimately, discovering its hidden nooks and crannies.

‘Chiesa di San Samuele,’ she murmured.

Marco nodded. ‘The bones of Saint Valentine are rumoured to be kept in the church – there’s an urn by the altar that’s said to house his remains. It’s fitting, don’t you think? The patron saint of love resting in the city of lovers.’

‘It’s … romantic,’ Gina agreed, a small smile playing around her lips. ‘And I’m sure you know that Casanova was baptised in this very same church, and took his priesthood vows here at the age of fourteen – just along the street from where he was living in the Palazzo Malipiero.’

‘You do know everything about Venice,’ Marco laughed, as they continued along the street in the direction of the Grand Canal, crossing the square towards the beautiful old mansion that had been home to Giacomo Casanova in the eighteenth century.

‘Although there’s possibly one thing you don’t know about,’ Marco continued. As they drew closer to the three-storey grand palazzo, with its fading paintwork and crumbling façade, Marco slipped down a narrow alleyway beside the house’s famous garden. There was a locked gate made of decorative wrought-iron, half-hidden beneath overgrown wisteria, and Marco stopped beside it, bending down to rummage around beneath some loose brickwork.

‘What are you doing?’ Gina said nervously, looking around, wondering if he’d taken leave of his senses and they were about to be arrested.

‘I hoped it would still be here,’ he said triumphantly. He stood up, brandishing a key, and Gina gasped, watching in wonder as Marco slid it in the lock which turned easily. The gate creaked as Marco pushed it open, inviting her into the darkness beyond.

‘What are you …? How …?’ Gina marvelled, but Marco simply smiled.

He could tell she was a little uncertain, but she swallowed her fears, stepping into the secret garden and looking around in wonder as Marco closed the gate behind them.

‘Have I impressed the queen of Venice?’

Gina laughed. ‘Yes, you have. But how did you …?’

‘I was the stuntman on a job here, last summer. I had to jump from up there,’ Marco indicated the top floor of the palazzo, ‘onto a gondola on the Grand Canal. The contessa allowed the crew to set up in the gardens, and the key was something of an open secret.’

‘You’re full of surprises,’ Gina marvelled. Even at night, the gardens were beautiful, lit by lights spilling out from the windows of the palazzo, and the boats passing by on the canal. There were mature trees with the earliest signs of blossom, statues of lovers intertwined around a small fountain, and a stone balustrade dividing the garden from the water beyond. Magnolia plants were ready to explode into flower, and a beautiful rose garden dominated the west of the gardens by the canal.

Gina sat down on a bench, taking it all in, and Marco took a seat beside her. Above them, a handful of stars were sprinkled across the night sky, the moon emerging from the clouds.

‘I’m glad I bumped into you. There’s something I wanted to ask you …’

Gina raised her eyebrows questioningly.

‘This dinner with Lucia de Santis—’

‘I’m sorry,’ Gina groaned. ‘But thank you for saying yes.’

‘I’m not sure why I’m doing this.’

‘You’re keeping the talent happy for the movie. Brad wants it to happen, and so does Lucia. It’s my job to make it happen.’

‘Do I get a say in this?’ Marco said, only half-joking. ‘It’s just … it’s not me. I’m a background kind of guy.’

‘Look, I’ve booked La Sirena,’ Gina tried to reassure him. ‘It’s a quiet, discreet restaurant, and they don’t talk to the press. I’ve sent my VIP clients there hundreds of times. The food’s wonderful, some of the best in the city. It’s one night with a beautiful woman – what could be so terrible about that?’

‘We’ll see,’ Marco said, through narrowed eyes. ‘She’s hardly the easiest person. You owe me, remember.’

‘I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’

‘I hope so.’ Marco hoped he wasn’t being too pushy, but in truth, he was extremely attracted to Gina, and he wanted to get to know her better. There was chemistry between them, he felt sure of it, but it was as though she didn’t dare to get too close. Thoughts of Gina were messing with his heart and his head; it had been a long time since he’d felt like this about someone, and he knew his focus was elsewhere right now. He found himself thinking about Gina when he should have been concentrating on his work. He’d be prepping for some daredevil stunt and he would suddenly remember what she looked like when she smiled, or the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed. Right now, he wished they could stay like this for ever, the two of them in a secret garden in the heart of Venice.

‘This really is incredible. I can’t believe I didn’t know about it before,’ Gina marvelled, looking around.

‘The city has many secrets,’ Marco smiled, but Gina frowned at his words, looking thoughtful as though trying to capture a memory.

‘Marco,’ she began. ‘On the opening night of Carnevale, did you—’

She broke off as Marco’s phone began to ring. He reached into his pocket and read the name on the screen. ‘I’m sorry, I have to take this,’ he said, as he walked away to speak privately.

A few moments later he returned, his expression anxious and apologetic. ‘My daughter’s not well,’ he explained. ‘I’m afraid I need to leave.’

‘Of course,’ Gina nodded, following him out of the garden.

The moment had been well and truly broken, the magic dissipating, leaving Marco questioning if it had ever been there. He locked up, replacing the key where he’d found it.

‘Thank you,’ Gina said. ‘For staying with me. I’m fine now.’

Marco stared at her for a long moment. Whatever intimacy they’d shared was long forgotten; she was back to her distant, professional self. ‘Mask back in place, Gina?’ he said.

Gina didn’t reply, and he knew he’d hit a nerve.

‘I’m sorry,’ he apologized. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I really have to go,’ he continued, feeling unexpectedly reluctant. ‘Take care, OK? I’ll be in touch.’ He reached out and lightly touched her arm. The gesture was impulsive, and was meant to be reassuring, but it took them both by surprise.

Marco hastily withdrew his hand, a bolt of adrenaline shooting through him, the fight-or-flight instinct taking over. Without saying another word, Marco turned on his heel and walked away.

Chapter 19

Gina watched him go, wondering what had just happened between them. There was something familiar about that broad back, the swing of those wide shoulders as he strode away from her, but she couldn’t place it. She felt shaken and unsettled, her pulse racing, her heart thumping. The crowds swarmed around her, but she didn’t notice them, nor did she notice the freezing cold as she gathered herself.

Was it Marco that had had this effect on her, she wondered? She’d thought he was an arrogant asshole when she’d met him at the hotel, but she’d seen a different side to him just now. He seemed caring and genuinely concerned about her.

And then she remembered the newspaper article, the reason why she’d been upset in the first place, and it was like receiving the blow for a second time. Fear clutched at her stomach, so acutely that she felt nauseous.

She wanted to start running again, to keep going and never stop, so far that the truth could never catch up with her. But she forced herself to remain where she was and take a deep breath. And then another. She’d built a life for herself, a good life, and she wasn’t going to leave it all behind. She needed to know the facts, to understand exactly what she was dealing with. Perhaps she was just jumping to conclusions, and this was nothing to do with her at all.

Gina’s feet were like blocks of ice, but she forced herself to start moving. She would find a water taxi soon, but first, she needed to know exactly what the article said.

A little further along, she found a newspaper kiosk. She handed over her lire and bought a copy of Il Gazzettino. On the corner was a bar; it was busy, so she could be anonymous. Gina ordered a Negroni – she needed something strong for what she was about to do – and tucked herself away in a quiet corner, opening the newspaper with trepidation. It was only a small article, barely a few lines long, but Gina knew it had the potential to destroy her whole world. She took a deep slug of her drink, welcoming its strong, bitter taste, and began to read: