To his surprise, Lucia laughed. ‘Me? I’m never late.’
Marco found that he was smiling as he hung up.
Vino Vita was tucked away in a narrow street, with a plain green awning outside and no distinctive features. Lucia appeared to be as good as her word, and had chosen somewhere unobtrusive; a quick scan revealed no obvious paparazzi in the area.
The bar had only just opened for the day, and they were the first customers. Lucia appeared to know the owner, and asked if he would mind keeping the doors shut for another hour. Marco wasn’t sure how much she had paid him, but he agreed.
They took their seats well away from the windows in a quiet corner at the back, and the waiter brought them both a coffee. Lucia was dressed to kill as usual, in the white trouser suit with no shirt that she’d worn earlier to her meeting with Gina, although now she’d added a pair of Manolo Blahnik heels. Her hair was slicked back and her make-up was immaculate. She looked stunning, Marco thought; he would have had to be blind not to notice, but he was determined not to get sidetracked.
‘So,’ Marco began, settling back in his chair, a smile playing around his lips. ‘What’s all this about, Lucia?’
Lucia took a sip of coffee, taking her time to reply. Marco noticed an imprint of her red lipstick on the white cup. ‘I had a detective come to see me this morning,’ she told him.
‘Have you been misbehaving?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow, determined to play her at her own game.
‘Not this time. He was asking questions – but not about me.’
‘No? Who was he asking about?’
A slow smile spread across Lucia’s beautiful face, and she drew out the moment before finishing triumphantly, ‘Gina Bellini.’
Confusion flashed across Marco’s brow. ‘Gina? What did he want to know?’ Marco was annoyed with himself for caring.
‘I don’t think I’m at liberty to disclose …’
A flash of exasperation spiked through Marco. ‘Then, why did you bring me here, Lucia?’
Lucia tapped her long nails on the table, taking her time. ‘Are the two of you together? You and Gina?’
‘Why do you want to know?’ Marco said. Lucia regarded him like a cat toying with a mouse, and Marco knew she wouldn’t tell him any more unless he played along. ‘No, we’re not seeing each other, it’s just business,’ he said, though it pained him to admit it.
‘Good,’ Lucia said, with a smile of satisfaction. ‘I think you’ve made the right decision.’
‘Why does it matter to you?’
‘All I’m trying to say is that she may not be the person you think she is. How much do you really know about her?’ Lucia paused to let her words sink in. ‘You need a woman you can trust, Marco, especially with a daughter who’s been through so much. Gina is little more than a glorified hotel receptionist – don’t you think you deserve better? If not for your sake, then for Daniela’s. You don’t know a single thing about her. Think about it.’
Although Marco had been prepared to dismiss whatever Lucia told him, her words had hit a nerve. How much did he know about Gina? She’d been deliberately evasive when he’d asked her about her background – at the time, he hadn’t pushed too much, but now he wondered about the reasons for that. And if there was a detective asking questions about her …
Like Lucia said, he hadn’t considered his daughter in all of this. All he’d thought about was himself – how he deserved some happiness after these past few years. But he shouldn’t have been so selfish, and he shouldn’t have jumped in so quickly with Gina. Lucia was right. He needed to think about his daughter too. And perhaps, after the way Gina had behaved this morning, it was better for them both if they didn’t see one another. Perhaps, as Gina had said, their fledgling relationship had been a mistake. Perhaps Marco was lucky to be out of it.
‘You have my number,’ Lucia purred. ‘Call me if you get lonely. Now, let’s have a drink,’ she suggested enticingly, leaving Marco wondering if he should forget about Gina and succumb to the charms of La Leonessa after all.
Chapter 29
Issy pulled down the elaborately decorated silver mask and gazed at her reflection in the rococo mirror. It was as though butterflies were tap dancing in her stomach, as she felt alternate waves of excitement and nerves. She knew that she was probably blowing this evening out of proportion – Brad had only invited her because his wife couldn’t attend and he didn’t want to waste the sought-after ticket – but Issy couldn’t help but feel that tonight had a magical quality about it, the air full of possibilities. Surely only wonderful, magical things could happen to her in this beautiful dress, she thought, gazing at the layers of baby blue tulle as they pooled around her ankles.
There was a light knock on the door and her heart swooped, knowing it would be Brad. Shyly, Issy opened the door, hardly daring to meet his eyes. Usually she wouldn’t be so nervous around him, but tonight the boundaries were blurred and it was both confusing and thrilling.
‘Oh, Iz,’ he gasped. Beneath the mask, Issy felt herself blush at his reaction, and was secretly thrilled that she could elicit this response from him.
‘Do I look OK?’ she teased, turning a slow pirouette so that he could admire her. ‘You won’t be ashamed to be seen with me?’
‘Issy, you look more than OK. You look beautiful,’ Brad said softly, and Issy heard something else in his tone too. Sadness? Regret?
But Issy didn’t dwell on the thought, unable to keep the smile from her face at his words. Brad Redford thought she was beautiful, and tonight she would be on his arm at one of the most exclusive events on the Carnival calendar.
‘Hey, we match,’ she grinned, as she took in what Brad was wearing – a nobleman’s outfit in royal blue trimmed with silver. He wore a tricorn hat decorated with silver feathers, on top of a grey wig, and with a full face mask, so no one would ever suspect that a Hollywood megastar was in their midst.
‘Of course,’ Brad laughed. ‘If we’re going together, we have to coordinate.’
Issy glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘What time is it? Hadn’t we better leave soon? Do you have everything? I have a little space in my clutch bag in case you—’
‘Issy,’ Brad interrupted her. ‘Tonight you’re not my assistant, you’re my guest. We’re going to have an incredible time, and I don’t want you to worry about a thing. OK?’
‘OK,’ Issy giggled.
‘Then let’s go. Your carriage – well, your boat – awaits, m’lady.’
Il Ballo del Doge was unlike anything Issy had ever seen before. The guests arrived by boat directly from the Grand Canal, disembarking and ascending a short flight of steps before being ushered through a stone archway that led directly into a courtyard belonging to the historic Palazzo Pisani Moretta. Brad showed their tickets to a security guard dressed in a black Carnival costume, and they followed the passageway to one of the most beautiful palazzos Issy had seen during her time in Venice.
The path opened up into a secret garden, lit by flaming torches, with the stately house rising three storeys in front of them, and figures milling around on the balconied roof terrace. Lights were being projected onto the building’s façade, in a whirl of colours and patterns, and through the Gothic arched windows Issy could see a throng of people in glamorous costumes. Baroque-style rock music drifted out from the building, along with a babble of chatter and laughter, everyone inside clearly having a wonderful time.
Issy felt a frisson of excitement as they walked up to the enormous double doors that had been thrown wide open. Costumed waiters flanked the steps on either side, holding gold trays loaded with flutes of bubbling champagne.
‘Buonasera, signora, signore. I wish you both a magical evening.’
‘Grazie,’ Issy replied, taking a glass as they stepped inside.
