‘That would be nice. Let’s have a coffee and discuss it.’

They found a small café near the loggia and drank coffee in sight of the bronze boar. Alex waited for him to tell her about the superstition of rubbing the beast’s nose, but he did not.

But of course, she thought, you know all about your brother’s visit to me last night, how we fought, and then came here. He told you everything. This meeting was no accident.

She smiled at Gino over the rim of her coffee cup, while her mind pursued her own thoughts.

He told you to come and find me, to see if charm worked any better than growling. Well, you are delightful, my friend, and I’m happy to spend the day with you. But you don’t fool me for a moment.

‘Did Montelli hurt you, grabbing you like that?’ Gino asked, taking her arm gently and studying it as though looking for bruises.

She barely felt his light touch. Nor could she recall the feel of Montelli’s hand, unpleasant though it had been. The grasp that lingered was Rinaldo’s, from the night before. Strange, she thought, how she could still feel that.

For a moment she saw his face again, intent, deadly, ready to do something desperate at any hint of a threat to what was his.

‘No, Montelli didn’t hurt me,’ she said.

Gino held onto her just a little longer than necessary, before dropping her hand and saying, ‘Let me take you to the Uffizi Gallery first. Here in Florence we have the greatest art in the world.’

Together they went around the vast gallery. Alex tried to look at all the pictures and show a proper appreciation, but it was too much for her. She felt as though great art was pursuing and attacking her.

They had lunch at a little restaurant overlooking the River Arno, with a perfect view of the Ponte Vecchio.

‘I can’t stop looking at the bridge,’ Alex marvelled. ‘All those buildings crowded onto it, making it seem so top-heavy. I keep thinking that it’ll collapse into the water, but it doesn’t. It’s miraculous.’