Page 44 of Vengeful Vows

But it would take years for me to be totally comfortable. Fortunately this is a one-and-done obligation.

When I reach the platform at the end, I pause to pop a hip.

And there’s a call of, “Bellissima!”

Momentarily I freeze.Marcello?Even in the dark, with electronic music thundering, the rich bass of his voice is unmistakable, and so is the warmth that rushes through me.

I search the room for him, but the fact it’s dark, except for the spotlights, makes it impossible for me to see anything.

Why are you here?

Ahead of time, he arranged to pick me up, but not until later in the evening.

Dozens of flashes from cameras jar me, and I’m forced to collect myself.

But now that I know he’s in the audience, I pop my other hip, just for him. It takes all my self-control to keep a fierce expression on my face instead of smiling stupidly.

When I arrive backstage, the organizer points me to the end of the line.

Once all the pieces that Amelia has chosen for the show have been presented, all of us models will take a final walk, one right after the other, without a pause, allowing the attendees one last look at the collection Amelia has curated.

Right now, I’m anxious for the evening to be over so I can be in Marse’s arms.

When the emcee announces our finale, the houselights come up, and “Christmas Tree” by Lady Gaga and Space Cowboys thumps through the atmosphere.

Thunderous applause fills the room, and energy reaches an excited pitch.

The emcee interrupts the roar of approval. “From handpicking each piece to ensuring you are the very best dressed woman wherever you go, Amelia Clarke is the absolute spirit of Rêve de Mode. Please welcome her to the stage.”

Unlike me, she’s a natural as she thanks people for coming and acknowledging the painstaking effort from the volunteers and professionals who have spent months planning the event.

Some models change into their street clothes and continue out the back door to other obligations or to have fun, but I head straight for Marcello.

Though there are other men here, he looks ridiculously out of place with his brooding good looks and air of danger.

Sergio is near the door, arms crossed over his chest.

Marcello captures my shoulders and kisses me on my cheeks. “You’re perfection, Bella. More beautiful every time I see you. You’re a natural.”

At his lovely lie, I smile. “Let me just change, and I’ll be right with you.”

“Your dress is perfect for this evening.”

“Oh?”

Amelia joins us.

“I’d like to buy the dress,” he informs her.

“Wait!” I protest. He has no idea how expensive the piece is or how few times I’ll wear it.

“The fit was made for her, wasn’t it?” Amelia asks after accepting a kiss on the cheek from Marse.

Taking me in, he responds, “She’s exquisite.”

“You’re both insane.”

He reaches for his wallet and pulls out a credit card that he offers to Amelia.