A shrug. ‘I’ve lost a million. Before the night’s out I’ll probably lose another. So what?’

‘Come and join the party.’

‘I haven’t been invited.’

‘You think they’re going to turn away the son of the wealthiest man in Greece?’

‘They’re not going to get the chance. Leave me and get back to your guests.’

He strolled away, a lean, isolated figure, followed by two pairs of eyes, one belonging to the man he’d just left, the other to the awkward-looking teenager the bride had earlier embraced. Keeping close to the wall, so as not to be noticed, she slipped away and took the elevator to the fifty-second floor, where she could observe the Strip.

Here, both the walls and the roof were thick glass, allowing visitors to look out in safety. Outside ran a ledge which she guessed was there for workmen and window cleaners, but inaccessible to customers unless they knew the code to tap into the lock.

She was staring down, transfixed, when a slight noise made her turn and see the young man from downstairs. Moving quietly into the shadows, she watched, unnoticed, as he came to stand nearby, gazing down a thousand feet at the dazzling, distant world beneath.

Up here there were only a few lamps, so that customers could look out through the glass. She had a curious view of his face, lit from below by a glow that shifted and changed colour. His features were lean and clean-cut, their slight sharpness emphasised by the angle. It was the face of a very young man, little more than a boy, yet it held a weariness-even a despair-that suggested a crushing burden.

Then he did something that terrified her, reaching out to the code box and tapping in a number, making a pane of glass slide back so that there was nothing but air between him and a thousand foot drop. Petra’s sharp gasp made him turn his head.

‘What are you doing there?’ he snapped. ‘Are you spying on me?’

‘Of course not. Come back in, please,’ she begged. ‘Don’t do it.’