‘I’m writing a book about Roman art and my research brought me here. What an extraordinary coincidence, running into each other like this.’
They held each other’s gaze for a moment, each revelling in the unexpected reunion.
Olivia and Max had not kept in contact since they had met in Venice, though Olivia had thought about him many times since. He was married, and that was that.
‘Well, quite a lot has changed …’ He gave her an intense look. ‘How about we grab a coffee and I’ll tell you all about it.’
‘I’m here with my daughter.’
‘Then let’s all have a coffee. I’d love to meet her.’
He stood, and put his arm out, which she took without even thinking. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, and an unbidden thought flitted across her mind.
I want this person always by my side.
They looked at each other again. A smile of a deeper connection was there for the first time, and Olivia wondered if it was her future that she could see reflected in his eyes.
‘Max told me he was in the middle of getting divorced,’ Olivia said to Inspector Gallo. ‘He and his wife had been growing apart for years, and well, it was all over. Anyway, he has been at my side ever since.’
‘That is a wonderful story, with a happy ending. I wish you every joy.’
‘Thank you, Roberto, but what are we going to do about you? How are we going to solve your case?’
Gallo shook his head. ‘There is a piece of the puzzle missing. I must find out what it is, but it is proving elusive.’
‘Well, Inspector Gallo, I always remember what I used to say to my dear old nanny when she couldn’t find her glasses.’
The detective raised a quizzical eyebrow.
‘Perhaps you should try looking right under your own nose …’
Chapter 21
‘Great job, everybody. Well done. Let’s take five,’ said Aaron Finch, the director of High Voltage 3.
Brad ran his hands through his hair, the gesture exposing his toned biceps and broad chest. From the sidelines, Issy watched, always on hand in case he needed anything. There wasn’t time to go back to his trailer between takes; there would be a short break while the crew reset, and then they’d go again.
They’d just filmed a fight scene in the Doge’s Palace, in the sumptuous Chamber of the Great Council. Brad had been incredible – Issy could never get over how good he was at what he did. He was always professional, imbuing the smallest of movements with the utmost meaning. Some people thought that action-hero acting was easy, that he was nothing more than a pretty face. But Issy had watched him at work, and knew he was dedicated, talented, and that making it look easy took a hell of a lot of skill.
Issy jumped as Brad’s BlackBerry, in her hand, began vibrating. Lexi’s name showed on the screen. Issy felt torn, and wondered whether to ignore it, her finger hovering temptingly over the red ‘cancel’ button. But then she glanced up and saw Brad walking towards her, grinning his adorable grin, and she instinctively held the phone out towards him.
‘Lexi,’ she said by way of explanation.
Brad’s face lit up as he took the BlackBerry from her and walked a few steps away. ‘Hey baby, what’s up …?’
Issy felt a strange sensation in her gut, as though someone had stabbed her with a knife and was slowly twisting it. On the pretence of rummaging through her handbag as though she was looking for something, Issy hovered nearby, straining to overhear the conversation. All around her, the film crew, like an army of ants, reset the scene, preparing for another take, as the cameras were moved back into position and the lighting minutely adjusted.
‘That’s awesome news! You don’t know how happy that makes me, baby,’ Brad was saying as Issy tensed, her shoulders tight. ‘Listen, I gotta go – they’re almost ready for the next take. But that’s amazing, I can’t wait. I love you.’
There were further terms of endearment, as Issy pretended to be engrossed in flipping through Brad’s diary. Then Brad hung up and strode over to her.
‘Awesome news,’ he beamed, handing the phone back to her. ‘Lexi can make it, after all. She’ll be in Venice next week.’
‘Oh! That’s great,’ Issy faltered, forcing a smile on her face, trying to sound upbeat. ‘Really … great.’
Lucia sashayed into La Sirena restaurant, looking like an old Hollywood movie star in a vintage fur coat and skyscraper heels. She was running late – partly because that was her nature, partly because she wanted to ensure Marco arrived first. Lucia de Santis was not going to be sitting on her own in a restaurant, waiting for a man.
To her delight, he was already there, though her mood blackened when she saw him sitting in a dark corner away from the window.
‘Signora de Santis,’ the restaurant’s owner came rushing out, eager to greet La Leonessa. ‘Thank you so much for visiting our humble restaurant …’
Marco looked up and spotted her, and Lucia saw his expression as he took in her appearance, his gaze running over her appreciatively. She couldn’t blame him – she looked incredible. She shrugged off her coat and a waiter was on hand to whisk it away; that was how things worked in Lucia’s world. She was aware that other diners were turning to stare, excitement and awe rippling through the room, and Lucia revelled in the attention, feeling like a queen walking amongst her subjects.
She was dressed to kill in a red Versace dress that clung to her voluptuous figure, pushing up her impressive cleavage to eye-popping levels. Marco stood up as she approached, like an old-fashioned gentleman. Lucia leaned in to kiss him and he smelt delicious; she lingered a few moments, making sure her body was pressed lightly against his. He looked sexy as hell in a classic black shirt by Prada, teamed with smart black trousers and Italian leather brogues, a belt at his waist emphasizing his slender, toned physique.
‘Thank you for coming,’ Lucia purred, her voice low and seductive.
‘It’s hard to refuse an invitation from you,’ he smiled. ‘I think you’re used to getting what you want.’
Lucia threw back her head and laughed throatily. ‘Speaking of which, why are you hiding out in this … cave in the corner?’ She spun round, fixing the manager with a deathly glare. ‘I specifically requested that table,’ she said, pointing beneath the window where an elderly couple were sitting eating their meal, looking rather nervous as all eyes swivelled to them.
‘I’m so sorry, Signora de Santis.’ The manager began to wring his hands, his expression grovelling. ‘We did receive your request but the table here is much nicer – it’s cosy in the corner, and discreet. We wanted you to enjoy our delicious food, not have everyone staring at you …’ He trailed off as Lucia fixed him with a deadly glare.
She spoke under her breath, not wanting to create a scene in front of Marco, but her tone was like ice and her meaning was clear. ‘I. Want. That. Table,’ she hissed. It was all she could do not to stamp her foot.
‘Of course, of course,’ said the manager, eager to pacify her. ‘I will sort it immediately, signora.’
Everyone was watching as he strode over to the couple by the window, speaking to them in low tones. He clicked his fingers, signalling for two of the waiters to come over and help him. Working swiftly and in sync, they moved the pair’s drinks glasses, plates and cutlery, ushering them across the restaurant, hastily procuring a fresh tablecloth and resetting their table in the new position.