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She smiled. ‘It could be.’
This was work. Work she could do. Talking about work made her feel confident again. Made her feel safe.
‘So what happens now? How long will it take you to find out?’
She paused. Of course. ‘These things can take weeks—sometimes months. The Italian Heritage Board is cautious. We have to be careful before we make any kind of declaration about the potential artist of any fresco. It can always be challenged by others.’
Logan shook his head. ‘But what happens in the meantime? Can the wedding still go ahead in the chapel? Louisa is absolutely adamant that things must go to plan. I suspect she’s counting on the money from the royal wedding to help her complete the renovations on the palazzo. If we can’t progress...’ His voice tailed off.
There were deep furrows in his brow. He put his hands on his hips and stared out across the village. It was obvious that something else was bothering him.
‘If we can’t progress—what?’
He let out a deep breath and turned to face her. ‘We have a non-completion clause in the contract. It’s standard practice in the renovation business.’
‘What happens if you don’t complete on time?’ Now she understood why he looked so worried.
He couldn’t meet her gaze. Her brain whirred. She knew exactly what would happen. Logan’s company would have to bear the brunt of any costs.
Something twisted inside her. It had been a long time but Logan had been the father of her child. She knew exactly how much something like this would matter. If he failed to complete this job his reputation would be ruined—he could kiss his company and all his hard work goodbye.
‘Is there anything I can do to help prevent the delays?’ There was an edge to his voice. Determination.
From the second she’d got here all she’d wanted to do was get away. Being around Logan was claustrophobic, too cluttered—stifling, too many memories.
But she couldn’t let his business fall apart because of things he had no control over. This wasn’t his fault.
She hesitated. ‘There will be a whole lot of paperwork that will need to be completed in Venice. That’s always the thing that causes the most delays. If Louisa will allow you to be a signatory for her it could make things much easier. As you know, Italian paperwork can be complicated.’
‘You want me to come to Venice?’ He sounded a little stunned.
But so was she. Had she really just suggested that?
‘Well...it might move things along more quickly. I will be working on the comparisons with other frescoes. If you could find any history of the village that might link Alberto Burano to being here it could also be a huge benefit.’
He nodded slowly. She could almost see him thinking everything over, weighing up the best way forward.
He stepped forward. A little closer than she expected and as she breathed in all she could smell was his woodsy aftershave.
‘What day do you want me in Venice?’ His voice was determined.
‘Friday,’ she said quickly, trying not to think about it too much.
Friday was only a few days away. She would have done some of the groundwork before he got there.
He seemed to wait a few seconds before he replied. His voice was low and husky, sending shivers down her spine. ‘Friday it is.’
What had she just done?
CHAPTER FOUR
THE HEAT IN Venice was stifling. It seemed the whole world had descended on it to hear one of the world’s biggest rock bands play in a concert. Piazza San Marco was positively heaving, the streets crowded beyond measure and tourists juggling to pay the inflated prices in the surrounding cafés and bars.
Venice was always hot in the summer and Lucia was used to it. Living in the middle of permanent tourist attractions meant it was rarely quiet but today was the busiest she’d ever seen it. The queue of people to get inside St Mark’s Basilica snaked around the centre of the piazza twice.
Lucia glanced at her clock again. She’d expected Logan to call her over an hour ago. When they’d made the arrangement for him to come and help complete the paperwork she’d had no idea about the rock concert. It hadn’t even been on her radar. She didn’t want to think about what Venice Marco Polo Airport was like right now. She knew that the wait for the water buses was over an hour and that everything was going much slower than expected.
But the heat in her office was becoming claustrophobic. Even with her windows opened wide over the Grand Canal there was no breeze. She glanced at the clock again and pulled her fitted blouse away from her back. The air conditioning rarely worked at the Italian Heritage Board. Today was no exception.
