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‘Yet nothing would happen if it weren’t for the magicians pulling all the strings out back.’

Gina looked up at the ornate stucco plaster, the diamonds worn by the patrons glittering in the low lights of the auditorium, feeling the hum of excitement in the crowd. ‘I think Lucia could stand on a cardboard box and the world would listen.’

‘They wouldn’t dare not to.’ Marco grinned playfully and Gina couldn’t help smiling too.

‘Are you a fan of La Traviata?’ Marco asked her seriously. ‘All that thwarted love and tragedy. “Let us be joyful, for love is a fleeting and short-lived joy”.’

‘Of course, you can’t live in Venice and not know about the death of Violetta,’ Gina nodded. For an instant, she thought she saw a look of pain pass across Marco’s face, but then disappear as quickly. Maybe she had imagined it.

‘Let’s have a toast. What shall we drink to?’ Marco asked her.

‘To a successful opening night?’ Gina suggested.

‘Yes … And to love.’

‘Love?’ Gina felt a blush spring to her cheeks.

‘We don’t want a toast to tragedy,’ Marco teased.

‘No, of course not,’ Gina agreed, feeling wrong-footed. ‘Let’s toast those invisible people backstage; the ones who create the magic.’

‘Yes, people like you and me,’ Marco grinned at Gina. ‘So, a toast to us then.’ Marco held her gaze as they clinked glasses, but Gina looked away. She was beginning to feel light-headed, even though she’d only drunk a sip of alcohol. She noted that Marco was familiar with the tragic tale of La Traviata. He was attractive, intelligent and cultured, she realized.

The gong rang out, providing a welcome distraction, signalling that the performance was about to start and patrons should take their seats.

‘Let’s go and find our box,’ Marco said, taking her arm, as Gina followed him out of the lobby and up the sweeping staircase, feeling a sense of déjà vu. Where had she felt like this before? Before she could ponder further, Gina found herself amidst a sea of couture gowns, noting Rolexes on wrists and jewels the size of quails’ eggs hanging from slender necks. There was a light hubbub of chatter amongst the crowd, a whiff of expensive perfume and expectation in the air.

It was almost a relief to get to their box, away from the crush of the other patrons, but as Marco guided her to her seat, Gina realized that Brad hadn’t arrived yet and she was now trapped in a confined space with Marco, the door closed shut behind them. The air seemed to fizz with electricity, and Gina wondered whether Marco felt it too, or if it was all a figment of her imagination. She wondered what was happening to her; she’d never felt such a strong attraction to a man before, and she forced herself to focus on his wedding ring to suppress the feelings coursing through her body.

The box itself was beautifully ornate, a profusion of gilt and velvet and historic detailing. The theatre itself was a lavish horseshoe of gold boxes facing towards the red-curtained stage, in front of which the orchestra were playing a sweeping overture. The ceiling was painted with mythical figures on a background of blue sky, and hanging from the centre of it was the largest chandelier Gina had ever seen.

‘Daniela had a wonderful time with you yesterday.’

‘Did she?’ Gina felt unexpectedly pleased to hear it. ‘She’s great company. You and your wife must be so proud of her.’

Confusion flickered across Marco’s face, and he opened his mouth to speak, but then the door burst open and Brad Redford strolled in, beaming from ear to ear.

‘I can’t believe this place. It’s incredible!’ Brad exclaimed, as he clapped Marco on the back and kissed Gina on both cheeks. ‘And don’t you two make a beautiful couple,’ he grinned.

Gina glanced up and locked eyes with Marco, a sudden jolt of electricity shooting between them. She looked away quickly, but the after-effects still lingered, her skin tingling, sparks fizzing through her bloodstream.

‘Shall we take our seats?’ Brad suggested, oblivious to the chemistry simmering in the air. ‘It’s showtime!’

‘Sure,’ Marco agreed, gesturing for Gina to go ahead.

She slipped into the middle seat, her heels sinking into the plush carpet, her dress trailing over the red velvet chairs. Marco came to sit on her left, while Brad took the right.

‘A rose between two thorns,’ he chuckled.

Then the lights went down, and Gina was grateful that no one could see her expression. With the almost-empty glass of champagne, movie star Brad Redford on one side of her and the charismatic Marco DiMaggio on the other, Gina was feeling decidedly giddy.

Lucia’s performance was faultless. Gina found herself on the edge of her seat, utterly spellbound and completely wrapped up in the music, though she felt sure that Lucia was directing her performance towards their box. It didn’t matter, La Leonessa’s joyful aria – ‘Sempre libera’ – was masterful, and her final scenes moved Gina to tears.

She wiped a finger under her eyes in case her mascara had run, and the gesture caused Marco to look across. Their gazes locked.

‘I’ve never experienced anything like that; how something so tragic can be so uplifting at the same time,’ she said, her voice filled with amazement.

Marco smiled, his eyes soft like melting chocolate. ‘Puccini knew the human soul.’