She followed him, intrigued, not by whatever he had to show her, but by the brief glimpse behind his eyes that he discouraged so swiftly.

‘The glass isn’t all blown,’ he said, leading into the next room. ‘Figurines and jewellery take just as much art of a different kind.’

One piece held her attention, a pendant in the shape of a heart. The glass seemed to be dark blue, but with every movement it changed through mauve and green. She held it in her hand, thinking of one just like it, except for the colour, safely tucked away in her jewel box in the hotel. It had been Antonio’s first gift to her.

‘From my heart to yours,’ he’d said, smiling in a way that had moved her, because he seemed almost shy.

She’d worn it for their wedding, and again as he lay dying, just to please him.

‘Do you like it?’ Salvatore asked.

‘It’s really beautiful.’

He took it from her. ‘Turn around.’

She did so, and felt him pull her long hair aside, put the chain around her neck and clasp it. His fingers barely brushed her skin but suddenly she wanted to clench her hands and take deep breaths. She wanted to take flight and run as far away from him as possible. She wanted to press closer and feel his hands on the rest of her body. She didn’t know what she wanted.

Then it was over. His touch vanished. She returned to earth.

‘It looks good on you,’ he said. ‘Keep it.’

‘But this belongs to the firm. You can’t give it to me, unless-oh, my goodness, you’re the manager.’ She put her hand over her mouth in simulated dismay. ‘You are the manager, and I never realised. I’ve been taking up your time-’

‘No, I’m not the manager.’

‘Then you’re the owner?’

The question seemed to disconcert him. He didn’t reply and she pushed her advantage.

‘You do own this place, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘At least, I will soon, when some trivial formalities are cleared up.’