‘No more bets,’ said the croupier as the ball began to rattle round the walnut wheel. Karin dropped her cool and clapped with excitement as the ball came to rest on zero. A respectful hum ran around the crowd.
‘Go for broke,’ said a man standing next to her. ‘After all, it’s not real money is it?’
Carried along by the moment, Karin moved all her chips onto number twenty-nine, watching, waiting her heart pounding as the white ball swirled, rattled and slowed.
‘Red, thirteen.’ There were hoots of excitement as the croupier scooped up all Karin’s chips with his rake and pushed them towards the end of the table. Karin looked down the table to see the victor. His eyes met hers and he smiled. He was wearing a gold mask with a long curved nose, but she could see the bottom half of his face and that square jaw was unmistakable. Adam. The bastard.
‘Thirteen. Lucky for some,’ laughed Adam, leading Karin back into the ballroom.
‘Lucky for you, you mean.’
‘Don’t be so competitive,’ smiled Adam. ‘Not when there are more important things at stake.’ They reached the edge of the dance floor just as the sound of Mozart soared into the air. With a curt nod of invitation, Adam took Karin in his arms to dance.
‘When you said we should see Venice, I didn’t think it would be from behind two papier-mâché slits,’ smiled Karin, enjoying the feeling of closeness as they whirled around the room.
‘I like the idea of masks, don’t you?’ said Adam. ‘The idea of being someone else for the night? It has so many possibilities. That’s why the Venetian lords threw big balls for carnival – they wanted to allow their guests to adopt a different party personality to the one they usually had.’
‘So who are you tonight?’ asked Karin playfully. ‘The King of Roulette?’
‘Casanova,’ he joked, leaning his mouth close to her ear.
‘I thought you said different personas.’
The air was thick with chemistry; a thick wall that both separated and pulled them together. Karin was enjoying putting Adam on the spot. She was naturally direct, challenging and cool. It worked in business and she also found it drove certain men crazy.
‘Don’t believe everything you read in the New York Post,’ scolded Adam.
‘You’re forty-something and unmarried – people draw conclusions.’
The music stopped and Adam took a flute of champagne.
‘I’ve never married because my parents had a wonderful marriage and I?
?ve spent my whole life comparing my relationships to theirs,’ he said more seriously.
‘Well, not everybody wants marriage,’ said Karin quietly.
‘You’ve never tried it?’ asked Adam.
‘My first, only, husband died last year in a boating accident,’ she said. She wasn’t sure if she had needed to tell him quite yet; but she knew he’d find out. And besides, it made her seem more sensitive, more mysterious and certainly less predatory than a single, unmarried woman in her thirties.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know,’ he said softly, reaching up to touch her face. They both looked away, out onto the dance floor.
‘It’s quite incredible,’ she sighed. ‘So decadent.’
‘I love Venice. It reminds me of Manhattan.’
‘You’re kidding!’
‘Seriously,’ said Adam. ‘They’re both islands built around commerce; Venice was once the wealthiest city in the world. There’s an old Venetian saying that a man without money is a corpse that walks.’
‘I’m sure thousands of New Yorkers think that every day,’ said Karin dryly.
He laughed. ‘Not just New Yorkers.’
They fell silent again, watching the masked dancers revolving around the floor.
‘Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about,’ said Adam, still looking at the ballroom.