Carter Leathers was sitting at a table on the terrace of a boutique hotel in the center of Florence, Italy – sipping a Negroni and trying to quieten her nerves.

The courtyard was peaceful, open and airy, dotted with aperitivo-hour drinkers. Carter tried to soak up the Florentine vibes – and avoid checking her phone and reading the inevitable anxious messages from her mother.

Then through the stone arches into the courtyard, walked a tall, confident-looking guy in a blue suit.

This must be Max Ratzenböck, thought Carter.