‘I’d best get to that paperwork,’ Marco shrugged. He cast a final glance over the helicopter and turned to walk away, when Edoardo’s voice stopped him.
‘You’re like a cat with nine lives, you know that?’ His tone was dripping with bitterness.
Marco stopped and turned around. The two men were face to face at the far end of the hangar and no one else was around.
‘Even when dropped from a height, you always land on your feet, right?’ Edoardo’s eyes were glittering dangerously, a strange expression on his face.
Marco snorted dismissively, then turned around and walked off. He didn’t know what was going on with his brother-in-law today, but he didn’t have time to deal with Edoardo’s bullshit.
He strode back across the hangar and into the small office. It was no secret that his brother-in-law disliked him, but Edoardo had rarely been so openly hostile before. It was almost as though …
Marco stopped dead as he noticed the small package sitting on top of a pile of letters on his desk. It was expensively gift-wrapped, and Marco frowned. He hesitated for a moment before picking it up and opening it.
Inside was a dark red jewellery box with the Cartier logo emblazoned in gold across the front. Marco opened it. Inside was a pair of platinum cufflinks, studded with diamonds. He knew they were real from the way they sparkled in the overhead light.
Marco had a bad feeling about this. He opened the envelope that came with them to read the note: All my apologies for what happened at La Sirena. Please allow me to make it up to you xx
There was no signature – it didn’t need one. It was obvious who the gift came from; there was only one person he knew who would make such a grand, extravagant gesture.
Marco sighed. Most men would be grateful to be pursued by a rich, famous and beautiful diva, but this wasn’t what Marco wanted. Deep down inside, he suspected this wouldn’t go well for him. Lucia was a woman who wasn’t used to taking no for an answer – she wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted. And now, apparently, she wanted Marco.
Detective Gallo was sitting outside Caffè Florian in the Piazza San Marco. It was a beautiful baroque building, and Italy’s oldest café – even Giacomo Casanova had been a customer here. But it was also a notorious tourist trap, and Roberto knew that the caffè con panna in front of him would likely cost him an arm and a leg.
You only live once, he reasoned, thinking that this might be his only opportunity to visit Venice, and he wanted to soak in the sights. Amongst the crowds, Roberto knew that no one was paying attention to him; he blended into the background and, as a detective, that was a useful asset.
He sipped his coffee and looked around him at the opulence of St Mark’s Square. Pigeons swooped across the piazza, bobbing their heads rhythmically, hoping for crumbs from the mass of tourists who were out in force. Many of them were in costume, and Detective Gallo reflected how, in times gone by, women were only allowed to enter Caffè Florian if they were accompanied by a man, or disguised during Carnevale.
Perhaps, even now, Carnival gave people the opportunity to hide their true selves, he reflected. Perhaps the answers he was looking for were closer than he suspected, as Olivia Booth had suggested.
Detective Gallo raised his hand to signal for the bill, then pulled out his wallet. From inside, he removed a photograph, laying it down on the table and scrutinizing it. Yes, he was positive that it was her. The woman who could lead him to the truth, who could tell him exactly what Lorenzo Mancini’s fate had been.
He was so close to cracking this case, he could feel it in his bones.
Detective Gallo drained the last of his coffee. It was rich and creamy, and he savoured it, imagining his moment of triumph when the puzzle was finally solved, the secrets uncovered.
Now all he needed to do was take her in for questioning.
Chapter 26
Gina hurried across the Campo Santa Margherita, a beautiful, lively square not far from her home in the Dorsoduro region of the city. It was chilly, and the evening sky threatened rain, but Gina practically danced across the flagstones in her high-heeled boots, giddy at the prospect of a date with Marco.
The afternoon in Murano had been wonderful, hanging out with Brad and Issy, but especially with Marco and Daniela. Her thoughts had been divided – she felt terrible for the two of them when she found out about Stephana and the tragic accident that had claimed her life. Yet she couldn’t suppress a flicker of excitement and possibility. She’d tried very hard to deny her feelings, as she hadn’t wanted to get involved with a married man. But Marco had made it clear that he was interested in her, and now she knew that he was a widow without any other romantic commitments, there was nothing to stop her accepting Marco’s invitation.
Gina’s heart leapt as she spotted him – he was early, and she was grateful for that – standing right where they’d agreed to meet, by the flagpole at the western end of the square. The fruit stalls and flower sellers had packed up for the day, but the piazza was bustling as it always was during Carnevale. Here there were more locals than tourists in the busy bohemian quarter that was popular with students from the nearby university, but Marco cut a distinctive figure with his tall, broad frame and handsome face, the collar of his woollen jacket turned up against the cold in a way that framed his chiselled jawline.
‘Gina,’ he grinned when he saw her, and the look on his face said it all – his eyes soft, his smile wide – and Gina felt her stomach flip. She’d spent so long being on her own, fighting to always stay in control, that the prospect of letting her guard down and sharing some of that burden felt dangerously inviting. She wanted to be open and relaxed with him, not cold or aloof. She wanted this to work. She grinned back, realizing that they were gazing at each other with the same tender expression.
‘So where are we going?’ Gina asked. Marco hadn’t revealed their destination, telling her it was a surprise.
‘It’s not too far away,’ Marco replied mysteriously, offering his hand. Gina took it, enjoying the feel of his fingers wrapped around hers, his touch strong and confident.
He led her along one of the narrow passageways, out of the square and over the Ponte del Forno, where they strolled alongside the canal. Here the waterway was narrow, the picturesque buildings lining either side of the Rio de Santa Margherita.
Marco turned to her, his eyes twinkling. ‘I’m flattered you found time to take an evening off.’
‘I nearly didn’t make it. I’m arranging a wedding.’ Gina told him about Olivia and Max, and the intricate plans that she had planned down to the finest detail. ‘I’m so fond of Olivia, I want this to be a day she will never forget.’
‘It sounds like it will be.’
‘But there is something missing.’
‘What do you mean?’ He was curious.
Gina tried to explain what she meant. ‘Did you ever dream about getting married, Marco?’
He thought about that for a moment. ‘Honestly, no!’ He laughed, ‘I wanted to get married, of course, but it was just a formality. My wife, Stephana, planned everything down to the last detail; she even had her own unique perfume created just for the day.’
‘She sounds amazing,’ Gina said, ‘so you see what I mean: that was the one thing she brought to the day that no one else could.’ Gina looked distant for a moment. ‘When I was a little girl, we didn’t have much, and I always remember seeing someone’s big wedding in the local church. They had two enormous horses pulling a white carriage, the bride was wearing a Cinderella gown, and her train was embroidered with silver thread, which matched her silver shoes. It seemed magical to me, like the most wonderful thing that could happen to someone. I wished it was me there.’
‘You’ve never married?’
She shook her head. ‘But the best part of it was the thing that no one expected to happen.’ She smiled, lost in the memory.
‘Are you going to share it with the rest of us, Gina?’ Marco smiled and gently squeezed her hand. ‘Hello?’
Gina laughed, too. ‘I’ll truly never forget it. The groom unshackled one of the horses from the carriage, mounted it, then went and drew his new wife up from the square onto the horse. They sat together, laughing and embracing, and then they literally rode off into the sunset, while everyone just stared after them. I’ll never forget the look on the bride’s face as he lifted her up onto the horse. Her expression said, “Let’s do this”, and she just kicked off those silver shoes. It was so exciting. And romantic.’
‘Are you a romantic, Gina?’
