‘Thank God. Here.’ She handed me an iPhone, identical to the one tucked away in my handbag, as a driver in a smart black suit exited the driver’s side of the car and silently took my suitcase from my hands. ‘Your travel details and trip itinerary are in your email, and all my numbers are already programmed in. The passcode is your date of birth.’

‘Naturally,’ I whispered before giving herwhat I hoped was a look of confident, professional competence. ‘Thank you for this opportunity, I’m excited to get stuck in.’

‘One of your eyelashes fell off halfway through the interview,’ Sarah said. ‘Just so you know.’

‘Fantastic,’ I replied, ducking my head and gently yanking off the remaining strip lash, cheeks burning.

The driver stalked around to my side of the car, opening the door before my sweaty mitts could make contact with his spotless paintwork.

‘Thank you,’ I said as I crammed myself inside but he didn’t reply. The car’s interior smelled like expensive aftershave and money. Even as I fastened my seat belt, I could feel myself tensing every muscle in my body at once. Cream leather seats seemed like a terrible risk. What kind of person would choose to live so close to the edge?

Sarah tapped on the window, her eyes burning into mine as I kept my finger on the button to lower it until she could poke her head inside.

‘I know you won’t let me down,’ she said, taking a step backwards onto the pavement before I could respond.

The car accelerated away from the kerb, pushing me back against the buttery back seat as an icy breeze blew in through the still-open window, but the chill in my bones had nothing to do with the weather. I was a good assistant, and I knew I could do this, so why did Sarah’s words sound so much like a threat?

My window whirred into life, the driver sealing me inside the car as we locked eyes in his rear-view mirror, my new iPhone hot in my cold, sweaty palms.

‘Should have you at the airport in twenty minutes,’ he said, before turning his gaze back to the road ahead.

‘Great,’ I replied. ‘Sounds perfect.’

And as we picked up speed and the streets of London and my flush of anxiety faded away into a blur, it all started to sink in.

I’d got the job.

I was on my way to Italy.

The adventure had begun.

CHAPTER FIVE