Page 57 of Once Upon a Time in Venice

Daniela ran off ahead, her long, dark hair streaming out in the breeze behind her, as Gina turned to Marco who had caught up and met his eyes, filled with questions.

‘Marco … Daniela told me about your wife, I’m so sorry.’

‘It sounds like we have a lot to talk about,’ Marco said softly.

‘Yeah, I guess we do …’

‘So, are you free tomorrow night?’ he asked. ‘Can I take you out for the evening?’

‘Sure,’ Gina replied, feeling hope and possibility spring inside her. ‘I’d love that.’

Chapter 24

‘Davide!’ Lucia exclaimed in excitement, as she snatched up her phone, seeing his name displayed on the screen. Instantly, there were butterflies in her stomach, and she felt like a giddy schoolgirl.

‘My love,’ she purred, as she answered the call, almost dancing around her suite. It had been more than a week since they’d spoken, and he’d sent only the briefest of messages to wish her good luck on the opening night of La Traviata.

‘What the hell are you playing at?’ Davide’s rich Italian tones came down the line, all the way from the Caribbean. He sounded jealous and angry, and Lucia felt a surge of adrenaline. She adored a tempestuous relationship – the dramatic fights, the painful breaking up and oh, the delicious making up – and it seemed as though her scheme to get Davide’s attention had worked.

‘What do you mean, amore mio?’ Lucia asked, her cat-like eyes wide with faux-innocence, as she admired herself in the full-length mirror, her satin chemise hugging every curve of her body.

‘You know exactly what I mean,’ Davide shot back. ‘I’ve seen those photos. You think we don’t get the news out here in Mustique?’

Lucia smiled, a thrill of triumph shooting through her, delighted to have read him so well. She’d known exactly what would drive him crazy, arousing his Italian machismo, and his possessive instincts.

‘I was lonely,’ she pouted. ‘It was just a bit of fun, to distract me from daydreaming about you. I can’t stop thinking about all the things we’ve done together. You remember that night at the Ritz in Paris, with the melted chocolate and the whipped cream, when I—’

‘Damn it, Lucia, you’re a temptress, you know that?’

‘I miss you,’ she murmured, a tremble in her voice, and was horrified to hear the real emotion there. She needed to be in control at all times.

‘Who is he?’ Davide demanded.

‘What do you mean? I thought the papers made it quite clear—’

‘That wasn’t Brad Redford, I’m pretty sure about that.’

‘Why would you say that? I’m going to be in his movie, you know. Brad and I have become very good friends, and he’s writing a starring role especially for me in the new High Voltage film.’

Davide hesitated, letting the news sink in. ‘Congratulations,’ he said, his voice more like a growl.

‘Thank you,’ Lucia purred, pleased that she’d hit a nerve. ‘And anyway, why shouldn’t I date whoever I want? You’re married, Davide. You’re on holiday with your wife. Do you expect me to live like a nun while I wait for you?’

It was as though her anger roused his passion once again.

‘Don’t play games with me, Lucia. I’ll be back in Italy next week. I demand to see you.’

‘I’m very busy with my performance,’ Lucia said dismissively. ‘I can’t simply abandon everything and come running just because you snap your fingers.’

‘Lucia,’ Davide growled. There was a warning in his tone and Lucia thrilled to hear it. ‘I will see you. And I don’t want you dating that man again – whoever he is.’

Davide hung up the phone, but Lucia was overjoyed by his reaction.

She thought of Marco – he was a good-looking guy, handsome and sexy, and Davide was clearly driven to distraction by the thought of her with another man. Her plan had worked perfectly, and now it was time to step it up. Lucia needed to see Marco again. And she needed to make sure Davide knew about it. She would drive him wild with jealousy; he would be hers.

Lucia swept into the Casanova Bar and all eyes turned towards her, in her white body-con dress that left nothing to the imagination. Her adrenaline was racing after the confrontation with Davide, and she couldn’t stay cooped up in her suite any longer. A waiter was instantly at her side, ushering her to a private booth, though the moneyed clientele of the White Palace weren’t the sort to pester a famous face anyway.

‘Uno Spritz,’ she demanded. She was performing this evening and knew she shouldn’t be drinking, but one wouldn’t hurt. She needed it to calm her down and slow her racing thoughts.