As she turned, she felt the weight of the bracelet on her arm, and heard her mother’s words in her head: One day, my girl, the world will catch up with you.

Gina pushed the memory away. It was time to go, and she wasn’t going to hide any longer.

Chapter 3

Issy Roberts was deep in thought as she crossed the White Palace’s Presidential Suite, the deep-pile carpet luxuriously soft beneath her Nike trainers. She’d just received a call from her boss, Brad Redford, that the day’s shooting had just wrapped and he was on his way back to the hotel, so Issy was doing some last-minute troubleshooting to ensure everything was perfect for his return.

Brad Redford was no ordinary boss, and Issy’s job as his personal assistant was far from the average nine-to-five. Brad was one of the world’s biggest movie stars. He was built like a Greek god, and every film he made was box-office gold. Brad had been in the public eye for over twenty years, since making his big-screen debut as a starry-eyed seventeen-year-old in Open Road, a cult classic about a disparate group of youths on motorcycles who’d embarked on a road trip across America. He’d been young and impossibly good-looking, wearing his trademark white T-shirt, blue Levis and a black leather jacket. The iconic poster of him posing moodily on a motorbike had been pinned up on a billion girls’ bedroom walls. He was still met by legions of screaming fans wherever he went, able to bring whole cities to a standstill.

They were in Venice filming his new movie, High Voltage 3: Electric Angel, the latest in the multimillion-dollar High Voltage franchise. The big set-piece for this movie would take place in a couple of weeks’ time, with Brad being chased across the distinctive orange rooftops of Venice by the villain, flying a black helicopter. The action would culminate in Brad leaping from the roof of the Doge’s Palace and escaping on a gondola piloted by his love interest in the movie, as the helicopter crash-landed in St Mark’s Square.

Despite Brad’s classic movie-star good looks – perfectly coiffed dark blond hair and twinkling blue eyes – he had a reputation within the industry as a daredevil, and was famous for doing his own stunts. He knew that nervous production companies would usually say no to other actors, but nobody said no to Brad Redford. Besides, in this case, he co-owned the production company.

As his PA, Issy did everything for Brad – not only arranging his schedule but organizing his closet, dealing with his fan mail, and even buying his favourite cashmere socks. Her role was to anticipate his every need and fulfil it, a steaming macchiato in his hand before he even realized he wanted one.

Her chosen career was never less than exhilarating; she got to travel the world, meet people she’d only ever read about in gossip magazines, and stay in incredible hotels like the White Palace. She was devoted to her job. And to Brad.

Issy checked her watch, estimating she had ten minutes before his return. She sat down at the enormous polished-walnut table, in the dining room that was being used as a makeshift office, and opened her laptop. It was rigged up to a printer which the hotel had provided, and every evening she would print off Brad’s schedule for the next day, along with any script updates.

Issy looked over Brad’s diary for the coming weeks and pulled a face. The next couple of months were blocked out for shooting. They would spend three weeks in Venice, then move location to Prague, before heading back to Los Angeles to film on set in the studio. Slotted in around all of that were awards ceremonies, interviews, photo shoots, and all manner of commitments that made up Brad Redford’s high-octane life. He’d recently signed as the face – or rather the body – of Calvin Klein underwear, and she still needed to schedule the first campaign shoot when they returned to LA.

Then, in two weeks’ time, there it was, in bold black capital letters: LEXI. Issy frowned.

Lexi Parker was more than just Mrs Brad Redford – she was a celebrated actress and a star in her own right. Together, they were two of the biggest players in Hollywood, an internationally renowned power couple. Brad had famously cast Lexi as his love interest in the romantic comedy My Other Half, later admitting that he’d been instantly attracted to her. It was a case of art imitating life, as the two of them fell in love on set, a fairy-tale wedding in a French château following mere months later.

Brad and Lexi hadn’t yet had children, which had given rise to all kinds of vicious tabloid rumours – that their marriage was a sham; that at least one of them was infertile; that Lexi had put her career above a family. Issy knew that the rumours bothered Brad, but he rarely spoke about it. Behind the scenes though, Issy knew, their relationship wasn’t as perfect as it appeared.

Issy tucked her hair behind her ears and stared at the screen. She’d been blessed with a riot of red corkscrew curls, which sometimes turned heads but could be hard to keep under control. She tapped in a couple of additions to Brad’s diary, and thought about the situation with Lexi. Brad was supposed to take a private jet to meet her in Paris for a weekend, where she would be unveiled as the new face of Chanel’s latest fragrance. Realistically, Issy knew, they would need that weekend to finalize the night shoots. She’d overheard the director say they were overrunning and would need another twenty-four hours at least. Then if she added the Vogue Italia shoot on the Sunday … Issy usually tried to schedule a rest day at least once a fortnight, but sometimes it wasn’t possible. Brad would understand, she thought, as she took a deep breath and deleted Lexi’s name from the calendar.

The door was flung open and Issy jumped guiltily, pasting a bright smile on her face as Brad walked in. His adrenaline was clearly flowing after the day’s filming, and he had that unmistakable movie-star glow. He was more than attractive or handsome; he seemed to have an indefinable quality that always took her by surprise. Issy wished she’d made more of an effort; she’d spent the day running errands and was wearing jeans and an oversized Calvin Klein jumper that Brad had been sent but passed on to Issy.

‘What a day! I’m exhausted,’ Brad exclaimed. He seemed anything but tired though. To Issy, Brad always seemed to have a fully charged battery, bouncing around like a ball of energy, enthusiastic about everything the world had to offer. His stamina was unlimited, and he had an infectious zest for life.

‘How did it go?’

‘It was awesome! We shot the speedboat chase out on the lagoon. The adrenaline was pumping, and the city looked beautiful. You should have come.’

‘I had a lot to do back here. I’m sure you were amazing though,’ Issy grinned. She wasn’t just blowing smoke up his ass; he always did an incredible job. Brad was a great employer, a great guy, and Issy loved working for him.

‘So what am I doing tonight?’ Brad asked, turning to her. ‘Wait – you know what? Let me take a shower. I’ll be two minutes.’

Like a whirlwind, he dashed off towards the master bedroom. A few seconds later, Issy heard the sound of water running. She did a final sweep of the sitting room, checking that Brad’s favourite Grey Goose vodka had been restocked in the minibar, along with bottles of San Pellegrino and fresh limes. She made sure that housekeeping had put away his dry cleaning and made his bed. Then she quickly printed out the schedule and laid it on the table.

‘OK, that feels better! Now I’m all yours.’

Issy looked up to see Brad striding into the room, drying his hair on a pristine white towel. A second towel was wrapped around his waist, but his chest was bare, droplets of water nestled in the fine blond hairs. Brad was in impressive shape. As an action-movie star, it was a requirement of the job, but Issy knew that his routine in the lead-up to this film had been intense, living on six high-protein meals a day, and training with an ex-Navy SEAL. It had all been worth it, though, to get this lean, ripped body, his muscles rippling, his tight six-pack dipping below the towel …

Issy had seen Brad semi-naked more times than she could count. Recently though, she’d found herself avoiding becoming too close to him like this; she’d started to feel overwhelmed by feelings that flustered her. She averted her eyes and concentrated on her schedule.

‘I’ve made dinner reservations at Antica Trattoria Poste Vecie,’ Issy explained, carefully pronouncing the Italian words. ‘It’s one of the oldest restaurants in Venice – Casanova used to dine in the same building. It specializes in traditional Venetian dishes, mostly seafood, and you’ll love it. Mick Jagger and Jerry Hall are in town, so you’re dining with them.’

‘Sure. Are you joining us?’

‘I wasn’t planning to …’

‘C’mon. You know I can’t function without you, Iz.’ Brad grinned, with that slow, lazy smile that lit up his face, and for a moment she almost believed him.

Issy felt a telltale flip in her stomach and exhaled slowly before giving him a wry smile. ‘Well. OK, we can’t have you not being able to function! Oh, and sorry, I have bad news.’

Brad broke off from drying his hair and looked up.

‘I’ve checked your schedule, and it looks as though you won’t be able to meet Lexi in Paris. You’ll be needed for a meeting. The money men are flying in to meet you to go over the budgets – they’re concerned at the overspend. I’ve tried to move things around, but the times just won’t work.’

Brad let out a sigh and shrugged lightly, looking downcast. ‘It happens. Comes with the territory when you’re married to one of the most famous women in the world. It’s not your fault.’

Issy shot him a look of sympathy. ‘I can reach out to her PA, see if we can arrange something for Prague?’

‘Thanks, Issy,’ Brad said appreciatively.

‘No problem.’

‘So, where are we going after dinner?’ Instantly, Brad was back to his old self, upbeat and charming.

Issy panicked momentarily. ‘Nowhere. Don’t you want to rest and prepare for tomorrow?’

Brad laughed, a cheeky twinkle in those bright blue eyes. ‘You know what I always say – I’ll sleep when I’m dead.’ He strode across the room towards her, placing a hand on the small of her back and steering her towards the long casement windows. The gesture was entirely innocent, but Issy’s skin tingled beneath his touch. He was barely inches away from her and naked apart from a towel, his skin smelling clean and fresh from the shower.

‘What do you see out there?’ Brad asked, sweeping his hand to indicate the view.

Issy frowned, looking outside at the city across the water, at the boats gliding along the Grand Canal, and the white domed church of Santa Maria della Salute, looking impossibly romantic at night as its lights reflected off the water.

‘Venice?’ she tried, sounding confused.

‘Exactly! We’re in Venice, and it’s Carnevale!’ Brad affected a flamboyant Italian accent. ‘Find us both a mask, Iz. It’s party time!’

Chapter 4

The White Palace boat docked alongside the stunning façade of the Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, moments away from St Mark’s Square. It was already extremely crowded, with passengers disembarking from scores of boats, as water taxis pulled in and hundreds of people swarmed towards the piazza. Gina had allocated local guides for any guests who wanted to explore and be escorted through the surrounding streets, while she and Vittoria would keep their eyes on the rest and make sure no one got lost.

Gina was the last to step off the boat and into the throng, reminding Leo to be back at midnight. Already the excitement in the air was tangible, every sense stimulated by the sights and sounds and the crush of Carnival-goers. The costumes were extraordinary – enormous ballgowns in ruby red and dazzling turquoise and vibrant fuchsia, decorated with sequins and pearls and feathers, accessorized with tulle ruffs and lace gloves and the most elaborate masks. There were a handful of tourists in puffer jackets and jeans, wrapped up warmly against the cold, but they were the ones who looked out of place amidst the revellers in their finery.

Olivia and Max had spared no expense on their costumes, both of them dressed as Renaissance-period Venetian aristocrats. Olivia positively glittered, like one of her diamonds, as she chattered to the other guests.

‘No matter how many times I’m at the Carnival, I can never get over how spectacular it is,’ Gina commented, raising her voice to be heard. Behind her mask, the sound didn’t carry so well over the noise of the revellers.

‘Everyone makes such an effort, it’s wonderful,’ Vittoria agreed, as a man passed them wearing a black and silver celestial-themed outfit, with a moon-shaped mask and a floor-length cape covered in stars.

‘Although it’s a little strange too. Anyone could be hiding behind the mask.’