005 — LOW BLOW

VIOLA

The bedroom door opens again, and Cosimo walks in, looking like he has aged ten years in the last hour.

"Don't you dare come near me unless you're going to untie me," I warn.

He approaches without a word. I watch suspiciously as he climbs onto the mattress and reaches above my head. A few seconds later, the knot loosens, and my hands are finally free.

Thank God!

I immediately shove him in the chest.

"You insufferable bastard! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Cosimo doesn't retaliate. Instead, he catches my right hand and turns it over, examining the red marks around my wrist.

"Let go of me!"

He presses his lips against my wrist.

I freeze. Before I can recover, he tries to kiss the other one.

"Cosimo!" I snatch my hands away. "Don't you dare try to kiss your way out of this!"

His amber eyes meet mine. His throat bobs.

"I'm sorry."

Sorry? He tied me to our bed, confiscated my phone, and left me screaming like a lunatic. And now he's sorry?

"Keep your apologies. I don't want them," I hiss.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn't argue. He retrieves my phone from his pocket and places it beside me.

"Your friend is here. Zinnia."

I blink. "Zinnia?"

"She's downstairs. She said you were expecting her. Go and shower, Lillà. I'll tell her you'll be down shortly."

"Don't give me orders."

He sighs. "Then consider it a suggestion."

I narrow my eyes at him. "If you ever tie me to anything again, I'll personally make sure you never father another child."

His gaze lands on my clenched fist, his lips twitching in amusement. "Understood."

Damn him.

I dial Enzo's number as soon as I enter the bathroom, but he doesn't pick up. Balls of lead settle in my guts.

There has to be a way to save him.

Biting my lip, I send him a quick message.

[Enzo, where are you? Please call me. I know this sounds strange, but I'm worried about you. Don't go anywhere unsafe until we've spoken.]

....

A while later, I walk into the sitting room wearing a white blouse and fitted black trousers.

"Viola!"

Zinnia springs up from the sofa, nearly knocking over the handbag resting beside her. "There you are! I've been calling you all morning."

She hurries over and throws her arms around me.

I return the embrace, breathing in her familiar floral perfume.

My best friend. Seeing her again makes me emotional.

"What's wrong?" She pulls back, studying my face. "You look terrible."

"Thank you. It's wonderful to see you too."

"I'm serious, Vi. Your eyes are swollen. Is this about Corina? I heard what happened."

I sigh and lead her towards the sofa. "She's in the hospital. Cosimo said they're checking on her."

Zinnia sits beside me, shaking her head. "Goodness. What an awful morning."

She squeezes my hand before reaching into her enormous handbag.

"Well, I suppose we should discuss something less depressing. I've brought the samples for Cosimo's birthday celebration."

Ah... shit.

She produces a thick folder containing photographs, fabric samples, and several beautifully printed invitations.

"I spoke to the decorators yesterday. They can do the ballroom in black and gold—"

“That won't be necessary. Cancel everything."

She blinks. "Sorry?"

"The birthday preparations. I won't be handling them anymore."

Zinnia slowly lowers the invitation she's holding. "Did you and Cosimo have another argument?"

I take a deep breath. "I'm divorcing him."

She sets the folder aside. "Viola, sweetheart. What happened?"

"Nothing that hasn't happened a hundred times before. I'm simply done pretending I can live like this."

"Does Cosimo know?"

I think about my wrists. My husband's shirt. The outrageous way he'd walked out after tying me to our bed.

"Yeah. He's not taking it well."

She looks genuinely worried now. "Vi, you know you can stay with me if you need somewhere to go."

My throat tightens. "Thank you."

"And Fiorella can come too, obviously. I'll have the guest room prepared."

I squeeze her hand.

“Are you absolutely sure—“

My phone starts ringing before she can finish.

I glance at the screen.

NATE CALLING.

My heart skips a beat.

Nate is the CEO of the modelling agency where I worked before giving up my career.

I haven't seen him in years.

I used to love modelling. The fittings, the cameras, the excitement of stepping onto a runway beneath hundreds of lights. I loved the way I felt when I walked.

Then I married Cosimo, became pregnant, and gradually stopped accepting jobs.

Four whole years of my life. And what did I have to show for sacrificing the career I loved?

A husband who accused me of sleeping with my former boss.

"Viola?" Zinnia asks. "Aren't you going to answer?"

I blink and accept the call. "Hello, Nate."

"Viola! Finally!" His familiar laughter brings an unexpected smile to my face.

"Hello to you too."

"I've been trying to reach you since yesterday. Tell me you're not busy."

"That depends. Why?"

"I have something I want to discuss with you. Professionally."

My heartbeat quickens.

"Professionally?"

"Yes. And before you say you're retired, hear me out. Can you come to the agency?"

I glance at Zinnia, who is watching me curiously.

An idea suddenly forms in my head.

Cosimo believes I'm in love with another man. And once upon a time, he'd been convinced that man was Nate. Maybe I can use that ridiculous suspicion to my advantage.

"Viola?" Nate calls.

I straighten. "I'll be there."

"Excellent. I'll see you soon."

.....

The modelling agency occupies the upper floors of a magnificent glass building in the city centre.

The moment I step through the entrance, memories come rushing back.

The adrenaline rush. The smell of perfume and coffee. The lights and cameras.

A familiar voice calls from the corridor.

"Viola!"

Nate approaches with his arms spread wide. He's wearing a navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his brown hair neatly styled. He looks almost exactly as I remember him.

"Nate!"

He pulls me into a warm hug. He smells really good.

"Look at you!" he exclaims, stepping back to examine my face. "Goodness, woman. Has it really been four years?"

"Four years."

"Unbelievable. I swear you haven't aged a day."

I roll my eyes. "Flattery won't make me sign anything."

He laughs.

"Still as suspicious as ever. Come on. Let's talk in my office."

I follow him down the corridor, trying not to stare at the photographs of models whose careers have flourished while mine stood still.

Nate's office hasn't changed much. There are still fashion magazines scattered across the enormous desk, sketches pinned to a corkboard, and a coffee machine in the corner.

Nate gestures for me to sit. "Coffee?"

"No, thank you."

"All right."

He settles behind his desk, studying me thoughtfully.

"Viola, I'm going to be straightforward with you. I've watched a lot of talented women come through this agency over the years. Some became famous. Others disappeared after a few campaigns. But you..."

He pauses.

"You had something special."

I look away, blinking rapidly.

When was the last time anyone spoke about me with such conviction?

"I've been away for four years," I remind him. "Things have changed. There are younger models, new faces—"

"And?"

I blink.

Nate leans forward. "Viola, you're twenty-seven, not seventy. Four years away doesn't mean your career is over."

Tears gather in my eyes.

He reaches into his drawer and removes a folder.

"I've got a client looking for an experienced model for an upcoming international show. Someone with a strong runway presence. Someone who can handle pressure."

He slides the folder towards me.

"I want you back on the runway, Viola. After all, you're still part of us."

I frown. "What?"

Nate hesitates. "Viola, I've been trying to get you back into modelling for two years."

I lean back, puzzled. "You’re kidding, right?"

"Wait. You mean Cosimo never told you?"

"Told me what?"

Nate frowns. "Viola, your husband personally rejected every offer we sent."