Durante tossed book and glasses aside. ‘I fell down the steps.’ Gingerly, he unwound the tea towel, dislodging several cubes of ice, and exhibited a puffy purpling from ankle to toes. He rewrapped it and looked at Piero hopefully. ‘Lucia’s lying down because she’s unwell. Fancy fetching us both a cold beer?’ He smacked his lips.

Piero was a willing errand boy when it concerned cold beer on a hot day. He fetched bottles of Moretti and fresh ice cubes for the wounded ankle before pulling up another lounger. ‘What’s wrong with Lucia?’

Durante frowned. ‘A stomach pain. She’s trying to sleep it off.’

Piero refused to let himself ask after Zia. The past weeks, knowing she was just the other side of the cypress trees but completely withdrawn from him, had affected him more than he would’ve thought possible. While he respected her right to pull back, he was conscious of a constant desire to talk to her alone. Although she seemed stubbornly inclined to blame herself for Binotto’s outmanoeuvring him he wished he could discuss today’s developments. She was used to the machinations behind large acquisitions and after being so blind over the access laws he was nervous of anything else he might have missed. So, despite his resolve, he asked, ‘Where’s Zia?’

Durante, in the midst of a long draught of beer, had to pause and wipe his lips before answering. ‘Packing.’ He took another gulp while Piero’s heart did a slow somersault. Packing? Then Durante added, ‘She’s flying back to England for a few days to meet that man Harry who knew Vicky and Tori, then coming back.’

Piero hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until air poured back into his lungs. Then coming back. Why had those three words meant so much? He gave an inner sigh. Same reason the last three weeks had been so crap. He wanted to see her, talk to her, be with her, make things right again. Ironic that he’d viewed tourists as safe after Nicoletta, because they went home. This tourist … he didn’t want her to go at all.

Durante gestured to his bound foot. ‘I was going to drive her to Perugia Airport tomorrow but I can’t, with this. We’ll have to hope poor Lucia is better.’

At that moment, Piero caught a glimpse of Zia taking a step onto the terrace from the little apartment she’d moved into. Then, hurriedly, she retreated indoors. At this galling evidence that she was still avoiding him, his imp of mischief jumped into the conversation. ‘I’ll drive her,’ he offered casually. ‘I need to visit the builders’ merchant in Perugia.’ He was pretty sure Zia hadn’t confided in Lucia or Durante about their starry night of sex so they’d take his offer at face value. He hid a grin at imagining how Zia would take it.