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‘We’ve never spoken about him,’ I said. ‘She’s rebuilt her life with the chap and deserves her peace now, which is why I stay quiet to honor her.’

Bishop gazed at me for a moment, then reached across and squeezed my shoulder.

‘I hear you, Deke,’ he said, his tone solemn.

I let out a dry, breathy laugh, shaking my head as I closed my laptop all the way.

‘Yeah, tis what it is.’

The patio door slid open before he could reply.

Christine stood in the frame, wiping her hands on a linen towel as the delicious aroma wafted into the room.

‘Food’s on the table, gentlemen,’ she announced. ‘Let’s eat.’

Chapter 10

ANA

Ifirst fell in love with Max before I met him, in L’Amore Imperfetto, a dramatic retelling of Orpheus and Eurydice.

The movie was breathtaking and uninhibited with passion, and I teared up when he wept at the gates of the underworld.

After that, I binged on all his films and followed news of his releases.

I sat in dark art-house theaters, mesmerized, taking in his refined poise, his sexy black sable hair and beard flecked with silver, and his effortless charm.

He seemed like a dream, the embodiment of timeless romance.

We met in person when I secured a commission to photograph him right after he won an Oscar for The Venetian Shadow.

The shoot took place in a sunlit London studio ahead of his UK premiere.

He arrived in a charcoal-grey tailored suit and silk scarf, debonair and hypnotic, his evocative amber-and-sandalwood cologne wafting through the room.

He was even more handsome in person, radiating true star power, and my breath hitched as he strode toward me, smiled softly, kissed both my cheeks, then my hand.

‘Welcome to London, Massimo,’ I managed. ‘We’re thrilled to have you.’

‘Signorina Ana De Stella, the pleasure is entirely mine,’ he said, his deep voice wrapping around my name like velvet. ‘Please call me Max.’

‘Call me Ana,’ I replied, smiling.

‘I’ve seen your portfolio,’ he murmured, holding my gaze. ‘You capture truth, signorina. I’m in your hands.’

He then greeted every crew member by name.

Setting up the studio lighting took over an hour, requiring endless micro-adjustments to eliminate any harsh glare.

I expected a demanding star, but Max was patient through it all, cracking jokes with the lighting crew and charming everyone in the studio.

His calm presence softened the tension in the room, making my job easy as I focused my lens on his defined features.

When we finished, he stood beside me at my monitor, selecting the best shots with a discerning eye.

‘You make me look like an artist, not just an actor,’ he murmured, offering a genuine compliment without going over the top.

When he left, our eyes locked across the threshold.