‘That’s what makes it exciting.’ Vittoria herself wore a stunning dress in a rich shade of purple, her Columbina mask in matching colours and decorated with ostrich feathers. ‘That was the point of the original Carnival – Venetians could do whatever they wanted, with whoever they wanted. They got up to all kinds of naughty things. Venice was the pleasure capital of Europe. It was the Las Vegas of its day,’ she grinned.

‘There is always a little bit of madness in the air …’ Gina said, feeling uncertain. The mask cut off her peripheral vision, leaving her feeling strangely vulnerable.

‘There could be someone famous and you’d never even know,’ Vittoria giggled. ‘Maybe La Leonessa. Or even Brad Redford!’

Gina smiled tightly behind her mask. There was no doubt that the costumes made for a unique spectacle, but tonight she felt torn. To Gina there was something rather sinister about the frozen expressions and the anonymity, which gave the whole night a fizz of danger which was usually very exciting. Tonight she felt on guard, perhaps because of Vittoria’s mention of La Leonessa …

They walked further into St Mark’s Square and Gina couldn’t help marvelling as she always did at the incredible sight of Piazza San Marco, with its arched walkways and stunning rococo architecture. The vast open space was thronged with Carnival-goers, and the atmosphere crackled with energy.

‘Look at that!’ Vittoria gasped, as a procession wound its way in front of them, with stilt walkers and fire breathers and acrobats dressed as Harlequins, followed by a band of street musicians playing an up-tempo tune.

Gina watched in amazement as a nearby group burst into a spontaneous dance, unable to believe that this was her life now. As Vittoria had pointed out, no one could see Gina, and no one knew who she was. She could disguise her true self – though in many ways she felt as though she’d been doing that for years.

The procession came to an end and the lively group stopped dancing. Gina turned to Vittoria and realized she wasn’t beside her, and had lost the group of her hotel guests. She spun around in a circle, her eyes searching the crowd, but there were costumed bodies and masked faces everywhere she turned: Pantalone, Pulcinella, Il Capitano, but no Colombina. What had Vittoria been wearing? Gina tried to recall. Blue, wasn’t it? Or red? She found she couldn’t remember.

Gina tried to stand still, to take a moment to calm down and use her eyes, but she was jostled by the crowd and it was impossible not to be swept along in the sea of people. Eventually, Gina realized that it was futile to go against the flow, and her only option was to let herself be carried with the tide. What was the matter with her this evening? She reassured herself that all would be well without her – Vittoria was responsible and experienced, and Leo would return with the boat in a few hours’ time. As long as Gina was back by then, why not enjoy herself in the meantime? It was the closest she’d come to a night off in months.

Gina’s life was so consumed by the White Palace that she rarely had the opportunity to explore the city she loved. She let herself drift along, slowly finding herself at the outer edges of the square, where she finally emerged into the warren of streets surrounding the main piazza. There were so many people that it was disorienting, even for a local. Everything looked different in the moonlight, and Gina struggled to get her bearings outside souvenir shops that sold cheap Carnival attire, passing jewellers and sweet shops and bars that were heaving with revellers enjoying spritzes and cicchetti. She slowed as she reached a small stone bridge that was causing a bottleneck, admiring the way the white moon, shining high above, reflected off the water, her heeled shoes echoing off the stone as she crossed over.

On the other side of the bridge it was quieter, the tourists fanning out into the surrounding streets. Gina exhaled slowly, enjoying the unexpected calm, as she passed through a sotoportego and found herself alone. She could hear the drip of water, and jumped in fright as a bird took off nearby, the flap of its wings echoing along the brick passageway. Gina almost laughed at her own skittishness, before realizing that the alley was a dead end, finishing in a short flight of steps that led directly into the canal. Suddenly the sound of revels in the distance seemed a long way away.

She heard men’s voices approaching – two or three, laughing and joking. She turned to go, to get away before they found her, but the twisting passages had created an auditory illusion, and the men were much closer than she thought. The next moment they were in front of her, three of them. She tried to move out of their way, but it was impossible in the narrow alleyway, and one of them collided with her. Gina thought it was deliberate, but she couldn’t be certain.

Silently, the first one held up his hands. He was tall and broad, dressed all in black as il dottore, with the sinister, beak-like mask that brought to mind a black raven hiding his face.

Gina felt a pang of fear as the black beads of his eyes looked at her coldly. She went to move past him, but a second man was blocking her path.

‘Spostatevi, signori, per favore,’ Gina said firmly, trying to disguise her trembling voice as she asked them to move. Who were these blockheads who wouldn’t move out of her way? She was angry too, but it was underpinned by fear that she had found herself in this position.

‘What’s the matter? No need to be rude,’ the figure dressed as il dottore told her, and she could smell alcohol on his breath.

‘We’re just being friendly,’ said the other. ‘Why don’t you try being friendly too?’

‘Yes, let’s have a dance!’ the third one said, who was also wearing a bird mask in the shape of an eagle, roughly pulling Gina towards him. She had to fight an urge to cry out as he put his arm firmly around her waist and spun her around drunkenly.

His friends laughed coarsely and one of them began singing ‘O Solo Mio’ loudly.

The others sang along clumsily, and the man was joined in his rough dance by another, their beak masks blending into one as Gina was thrust dizzyingly around, almost losing her balance.

‘Please stop,’ her voice trembled as she tried to pull away. For a crazy moment she contemplated jumping into the canal to escape, but her heavy gown would instantly weigh her down. She thought about kicking them in the groin, wondering how much protection their costumes offered.

‘Leave me alone,’ she hissed, but the men held her tighter and fear rose within her, as long suppressed memories bubbled to the surface. She had to find a way to escape …

‘Woah, Iz, take a look at this! It’s unbelievable,’ Brad Redford exclaimed, sounding awestruck.

Issy couldn’t help but giggle at Brad’s delight. This was a man who’d flown a fighter jet over the Grand Canyon, who’d bungee jumped at the Hoover Dam, and base jumped from Sydney Harbour Bridge. Now here he was getting excited by playing dress-up in Venice.

‘It’s pretty amazing,’ Issy conceded. She’d grown up in a small town in the Midwest and, though she’d seen some incredible sights during her time working for Brad, she’d never experienced anything quite like Carnevale.

They were in St Mark’s Square, right at the heart of the action, and everyone was splendidly opulent and over the top, with men in tricorn hats and bauta masks, and women looking like grand ladies in wigs and long gloves. There was a distant scent of smoke in the air, from revellers who’d set off early fireworks, and Venice looked other-worldly. Issy felt as though she’d stepped back in time a century or two, thinking that the city could have been a set from one of Brad’s movies.

‘How’s that costume working out for you?’ Brad asked, and Issy could hear the smile in his voice beneath his wolf’s-head mask.

‘I like it. I’m going to start dressing like this every day,’ she joked.

‘You should. It fits you to perfection,’ Brad said, and Issy felt glad she was wearing her mask to hide the flush she felt rush to her face.

Gina had really come through for them, and Issy was immensely grateful. It was impossible to hire a Carnival costume at such short notice – they were all booked out months in advance – but Gina had waved her magic wand and half an hour later two garment bags had been delivered to Brad’s suite. One contained a nobleman’s outfit in royal blue with gold brocade that made Brad look, in Issy’s mind, like the prince from Beauty and the Beast. It was teamed with a wolf mask that entirely covered his face and hair, ensuring he couldn’t be recognized.

For Issy, Gina had sourced the most beautiful dusky pink silk ballgown, with brocade panels and a lace ruff around the neckline emphasizing her cleavage. Issy had left her red curls loose, with a spectacular feather hat perched on top, and a beautifully decorated half-face mask which made her feel enigmatic and sexy.

‘Come on, let’s go,’ Brad growled.

‘Where to?’ Issy’s heart was beating wildly, caught up in the heady whirl of the city.

‘Wherever we want. Venice is at our feet. Here, take my hand. I don’t want to lose you.’

Issy obliged, his large, gloved hand closing over her small one.

It doesn’t mean anything, she reprimanded herself. You need this job – you can’t be such a dreamer, Issy.

As they left the crush of Piazza San Marco, and moved into the ancient, atmospheric streets around the Rio de le Procuratie, the crumbling, pastel-coloured buildings towering above the narrow canal had a faded grandeur that felt whimsical and romantic, the ornate stone bridges like something from a fairy tale. She noticed a group turn to stare at them and squeezed Brad’s hand in warning. His voice was loud, and his American drawl distinctive. ‘Let’s try not to draw attention to ourselves. If you get mobbed by a group of fans, we’re screwed. Shit, I should never have let you go out without a bodyguard.’

‘Relax, Iz. No one’s gonna recognize me. Just enjoy the night. Hell, we could do anything we want. We could … go for a drink in a bar. Or buy some pastries from that street seller over there. Or find a spot to sit and watch the street performers.’

Issy couldn’t help but laugh. ‘That’s the most exciting thing you can think of?’

‘It is exciting for me. I never get the chance to be off duty. To not be Brad Redford. For me, the ordinary is extraordinary.’

Issy nodded, distracted as they passed a souvenir shop. It sold the usual tourist trinkets – keyrings, magnets, painted plates of Venetian scenes – but she was charmed. ‘Oh, look at those,’ she exclaimed, spotting a display of snow globes. ‘I love them! I mean, I know they’re tacky, but they’re so cute at the same time.’

‘I’ll buy one for you if you want,’ Brad offered.

‘That’s OK,’ Issy demurred politely, but she felt a longing inside.

‘No, I’d like to. When do I ever get the chance to head into a store – that’s not been closed especially for me – and buy something like a normal person?’

‘Well, I don’t want to deprive you of that experience,’ Issy laughed. ‘Sure, I’d love it. Thank you.’

The two of them headed inside, and Brad asked, ‘Which one’s your favourite?’

Issy examined the miniature scenes inside their glass domes, showing Saint Mark’s Basilica, or the Doge’s Palace, or Piazza San Marco. ‘This one,’ she pronounced finally, holding up a globe depicting a gondolier rowing beneath the Rialto Bridge. She shook it up and the snow whirled around like a magical storm, finally floating back down and settling at the bottom.

‘Hey, that could be you and me,’ Brad murmured, pointing to the couple snuggled inside the gondola, and Issy wondered if she had misheard him. Gently, he took the snow globe from her, holding it as though it were made of the finest porcelain. Then he strode up to the counter with a flourish, as Issy looked around the tiny shop, crammed with items like an Aladdin’s cave.

‘Um … Iz?’ she heard Brad call.

Issy was beside him in an instant. ‘Everything OK?’ she asked.