The city streets were freezing, and Marco turned his collar up against the wind, his gloved hands in his pockets as he marched along, navigating his way through the flood of tourists. The city looked as stunning as ever, but Marco barely noticed, the beauty of Venice reduced to little more than background as he walked, lost in his own thoughts.
He was wracked with guilt over the fact that it was yet another night that Rosina had put Daniela to bed, yet another bedtime he had missed with his daughter. And with his unexpected promotion to interim CEO of Elicotteri Conti, his workload could only get heavier. But what else could he do?
Marco reminded himself that he was doing all of this for Daniela, to secure their futures. The health of the business now rested on his shoulders and, if he was being entirely honest, the responsibility was almost overwhelming. Nicolò’s decision to step down had been a surprise and, while Marco was flattered by the trust his father-in-law had shown in him, he hoped he could live up to Nicolò’s expectations.
It didn’t help to have Edoardo sniping in the background. Marco knew that his brother-in-law felt he deserved to run the company, as Nicolò’s son and the bearer of the family name. And after everything that had happened with Stephana, Edoardo still resented him. It was frustrating to Marco that Edoardo refused to accept the truth about that night, that Stephana had—
‘Oh, mi scusi!’
‘Scusi!’
They both spoke at the same time, apologizing as they collided. It took a second for Marco to realize – the shoulder-length blonde bob, the petite figure, the striking face …
‘Gina!’
‘Marco …’ Gina’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide and rimmed with red. She was clearly distressed. And then Marco remembered: ‘I thought you were having dinner with Edoardo tonight? He hasn’t … he didn’t …?’
She shook her head while trying to catch her breath, and a lone tear ran down her cheek. His heart contracted. Gina was always so together. If Edoardo had upset her …
‘No, no … I mean, it’s something else …’ Gina took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure, but she was shaking and it wasn’t just from the cold. ‘It was fine, we met and discussed everything we needed to. And now I’m on my way home. Please let me go.’
‘Hold on.’ Marco reached out and held her by her shoulders gently, steadying her, as he watched her closely. ‘Is everything all right, Gina?’
Gina hesitated, as though weighing up whether to confide in him. In that fraction of a second, Marco saw beyond her exterior, almost inside her soul: a vulnerability, something hidden. It reminded him of someone, or something, but before he could place it, the expression had gone, and the shutters had come down once again.
‘Everything is really fine, I just have a headache,’ she stated, her tone brooking no challenge.
Marco looked at her for another long moment. ‘Can’t let the mask slip, Gina?’
‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes widened for a moment before he raised his eyebrows.
‘It’s just a turn of phrase, Gina. I don’t mean anything.’
Gina gave a tight smile, ‘Of course not. Please Marco, I’m not quite myself, I need to get home.’
‘I’m not going to leave you when you’re in this state,’ Marco said firmly.
Gina looked at him, and realized he was being serious. For a moment she wanted to sink against him with relief, to fall into his arms and tell him everything that was troubling her. Instead, she stood straight and pushed her shoulders back. She didn’t know how to be vulnerable.
But it was true she didn’t want to be alone right now. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m … going to take a walk, to shake this headache off. Will you join me?’
Marco didn’t hesitate, all thoughts of his aching body and a hot shower instantly forgotten. If Gina needed him, he would be there for her, and his response came immediately: ‘Of course.’
The two of them walked through the dark streets of Venice, instinctively sticking to quieter streets where they saw few people. Neither of them discussed where they were going; they were just wandering together, but they were both of the same mind: they wanted to avoid the crowds and stay in their own world.
They made small talk at first. Marco didn’t want to say anything that would spook Gina, or probe too deeply into her personal life. But there was one question that was bothering him.
‘You seemed upset earlier,’ he began, and felt Gina stiffen beside him. ‘I don’t want to pry, but I wanted to be sure – it wasn’t anything to do with Edoardo, was it? He didn’t do or say anything to upset you, did he?’
‘Edoardo? No,’ Gina insisted, but then her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I just left him there,’ she realized.
‘Where?’ Marco was confused, not following her train of thought.
‘Harry’s Bar.’
‘He took you to Harry’s Bar?’ Marco sounded incredulous. He wondered briefly if his brother-in-law was trying to impress Gina by taking her there, and he wasn’t sure how that made him feel. Then, unexpectedly, Marco began to laugh. The idea of Edoardo taking Gina to Harry’s Bar was ridiculous – trying to impress the best-connected woman in Venice by taking her to a tourist cliché.
Gina stared at him for a moment, then she began to laugh too, clearly thinking the same. Marco thought anyone who saw them would think they were crazy, shaking with laughter in the middle of the street.
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.