‘No. I’d rather walk.’ Marco shook his head. ‘I’ve had enough excitement for one evening. Goodnight, Lucia,’ he said, smiling wryly as he strode off into the darkness. He heard the soft chug of Lucia’s boat as it motored into the night, but he didn’t look up.
Chapter 22
THE LIONESS AND THE PANTHER!
LA LEONESSA SINKS HER CLAWS INTO A NEW MAN!
ARE LUCIA AND BRAD THE WORLD’S HOTTEST COUPLE?
‘Oh, shit,’ swore Gina, as she took in the frenzy of headlines, all awash with grainy photos of Lucia and Marco, taken through the window of La Sirena. She stared at the spread on her office desk with a growing sense of anger and unease. It was the second day in a row that the newspapers had brought bad news for Gina, and she couldn’t help but notice that all the trouble had started after Lucia de Santis’s arrival, as though she were a bad omen.
Gina’s BlackBerry began to ring. She saw the name on the screen and braced herself. ‘Hey, Marco.’
‘Hey Gina. Quick question. Do you know why I’m all over the front pages of the world’s tabloids this morning?’
Gina could hear the anger in his voice. ‘I’m so sorry, Marco. This was never supposed to happen—’
‘Wasn’t it?’ Marco cut her off, sounding angrier than she’d ever heard him. Gina understood – his wife was likely furious that he was in the papers with another woman, and Daniela would be confused and upset, probably teased by her classmates. ‘The restaurant was surrounded. Someone had clearly tipped off the press,’ Marco continued.
‘It wasn’t me, I can assure you. I’m just as surprised as you are. Lucia played me too, Marco.’
Marco sighed, and was silent for a moment. ‘OK,’ he said finally, now more resigned than angry. ‘If you tell me you weren’t involved, then I believe you. Lucia pulled this whole stunt when I arrived, making sure we were sitting at the window table. I thought she was just living up to her reputation and behaving like a diva. But what advantage is it to her to have a photo of us in the papers?’
‘She’s in every publication this morning. That’s a pretty big incentive.’
‘But it’s not like she needs the publicity. And why drag me into it?’
Gina remembered Marco’s words to her the other night – I’m a background guy. She knew he would hate this. She felt bad for him, and didn’t want him to be mad at her, but at the same time Gina was grateful that he’d agreed to the dinner. Lucia would be happy, and off her back for now.
‘Because in a certain light, with a poor-quality picture taken through a smoky window, you do look a tiny bit like Brad Redford,’ Gina said, a teasing note in her voice, and was gratified to hear Marco laugh lightly. ‘She’s got blanket publicity, and everyone has now linked her to Brad, who is the hottest guy in Hollywood right now. The papers think you are Brad.’
She heard Marco sigh resignedly at the other end of the line. ‘Look, Brad’s on an early morning shoot, but I’m coming in to meet him later when he’s done,’ Marco said, his tone softening. ‘I’ll talk to you then, OK?’
‘Sure. See you later. And Marco?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I really am sorry. I had no idea.’
‘Thanks Gina.’
He hung up the phone.
‘Your hot water with lemon, and the morning papers, Signora de Santis,’ said Massimo, Lucia’s butler, as he placed the cup and saucer down and arranged the newspapers in a fan shape.
Lucia was impressed to see that he kept his face resolutely neutral, with no flicker of recognition that the woman in front of him was splashed all over the front pages in a compromising position with a man who might or might not be Brad Redford.
‘Can I get you anything else?’ he asked politely.
‘That’s all.’ For once, Lucia didn’t take the time to admire his bulging biceps or firm buttocks. Today, she wanted him out of her room so she could revel in her triumph.
‘Very good, signora.’
Lucia’s eyes followed him as he walked out of her suite. As soon as the door clicked closed, she pounced like a true lioness, devouring the tabloids in front of her. She saw with delight that she was on the front of every single one. This was marvellous, and it had worked out even better than she’d hoped.
The photographers thought that Marco was Brad Redford! There was obviously a similarity between them, and in a blurry photograph taken through a window, the dark blond hair and finely chiselled torso of the handsome Italian could easily be mistaken for a Hollywood movie star.
Lucia checked her own appearance in the pictures and was more than satisfied – she looked voluptuous, glamorous, and like every man’s fantasy. Perfetto. Because as well as putting her in the minds of the public around the world, she felt certain that the pictures would reach all the way to Mustique, where Davide Bruno was vacationing with his wife and family. If this didn’t drive him wild with jealousy, then Lucia didn’t know what would.
Edoardo had arrived for breakfast at the family home. He lived just down the street from his parents, in an apartment his father had bought for him, and Edoardo enjoyed the proximity. It was easy to pop over and be coddled by his mamma, or to chat business and try and ingratiate himself with his father.
‘Edoardo, mi tesoro,’ Grazia exclaimed, as he strode into the kitchen. She was dressed elegantly in cream trousers and a navy-blue blouse, her grey hair cut into a stylish bob.
‘Mamma, come stai?’ Edoardo kissed his mother on both cheeks, the two of them delighted to see each other as ever. The smell of pastries and freshly brewed coffee drifted through the luxurious apartment, but today Edoardo was too distracted to think about breakfast. ‘Where’s Papà?’
‘He’s in his study. I’ll tell him you’re here. But why, what’s the rush?’
Edoardo didn’t reply. He raced through to his father’s study. It was a glorious chaos of hardback books on floor-to-ceiling shelves, with awards on display and files piled up on his desk alongside family photographs. There was a gold-framed picture of Stephana, a head-and-shoulders shot showing her laughing, her beautiful dark eyes sparkling with life. Edoardo slammed the bundle of newspapers he was carrying down on the desk beside the photograph. His eyes were blazing, his breath coming fast.
Nicolò glanced cursorily at the papers, then back up at Edoardo.
‘Good morning to you, too, Edoardo. So, Lucia de Santis and Brad Redford had dinner together? I’m thrilled for them, but I hardly see how—’
‘No, look again,’ Edoardo pressed, jabbing his finger towards the man’s face in the grainy photo. ‘That’s not Brad Redford.’
Nicolò reached for his reading glasses and leaned in to look more closely at the photo. Then he sat back in his chair and roared with laughter. ‘Marco! No, I don’t believe it! What’s he doing with Lucia de Santis?’
Edoardo’s dark eyebrows knitted in the middle, momentarily thrown. This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected at all.
Grazia came rushing through, looking curious and concerned. ‘What’s all this commotion? What’s happening?’
‘Look,’ Nicolò chuckled, holding up the front page of Corriere della Sera. ‘Marco’s on a date with Lucia de Santis, and the press thinks he’s Brad Redford.’
Grazia stared at the photograph, then her mouth fell open in shock. ‘Marco? Well, he never said anything! I can’t imagine him with La Leonessa – you wouldn’t think they’d have much in common. I wonder if he can get us free tickets to La Fenice.’
Edoardo had turned white with anger. He felt as though he was about to explode, unable to understand his parents’ laid-back reactions. ‘What about Stephana?’ he burst out. ‘How does this honour her memory? He has a child at home – my niece – and his wife is dead, yet he’s running round Venice like some kind of playboy.’
‘Edoardo,’ Grazia began softly, putting her hand on his shoulder.
‘No, Mamma,’ he turned to her, rage and anguish in his eyes.
‘Stephana’s death was three years ago. Marco is entitled to move on. Believe me, we still feel the pain every single day, but we understand that life has to go on for Marco,’ Nicolò explained gently.
‘Come back to the kitchen and have some pastries while they’re still warm,’ Grazia entreated him.
‘I don’t want pastries! I feel sick to my stomach. You always treat him like he’s some kind of hero, even putting him in charge of the business, but he killed my sister and—’
‘That’s enough,’ Nicolò roared. He jumped to his feet, bellowing across the desk. ‘Don’t you ever say that again. Daniela is my granddaughter, and Marco remains part of our family. And if you can’t accept that, then perhaps you’re the one who needs to leave.’
