Page 25 of A Forgotten Promise

Cora almost spits her wine, laughing. “Shit, Saar, I forgot you took those pills. Let’s get you to bed.”

She stands up, snakes her arm around me, and pulls me up.

“I don’t even have a bed.”

“You do tonight. We’re sharing mine, you silly cow.”

We stumble around the mirror, and I pout. “You see. Look at me. I can’t get discounted beauty procedures. I’d end up ugly.”

“Okay, your future ugly lips are the least of your problems, but let’s sleep on it.” She drags me to her bedroom.

“I can’t accept your bed,” I protest as I fall into her sheets.

“Good night, Saar.”

My body jerks as she pulls the duvet from under me, and I smile as the warmth and comfort envelope me.

Maybe I am a survivor.

“Jesus, Vito, when you said you had a solution, I didn’t think you’d found me a husband.” I shake my head, but the reality remains unchanged.

I’m still sitting across from my manager in an upscale restaurant on Madison Avenue. I’m still happy and relieved to see him after two weeks. I’m still avoiding the fact that I’m currently unable to pay the bill here.

I’m also shocked at his proposal to marry someone to access my trust fund.

“Principessa, I have four jobs lined up for you.” He shrugs.

“I told you, I don’t want to work. I can’t, Vito,” I say through my teeth. I’m fucking tired of repeating that to him.

He winces.

“I’m sorry.” I sigh. “Four jobs wouldn’t help me out of my debt, anyway.”

My day started wonderfully. I woke up in Cora’s bed rested. Like really, truly refreshed. Funny how sleep can shift one’s mood. I decided to attack the day with renewed determination.

I called Cal and asked him to get me a contact for a good international lawyer. I might have suggested that it’s for a friend of mine in Italy, but I really need to do this by myself, so it’s a white lie only. How I’d pay the legal fees is a story for later.

I scheduled a meeting with Nora Flemming, a former model who is involved in charity now. Networking with someone who transitioned from the runway to a meaningful purpose and livelihood in her life might be a good first step.

After I took a short—mindful of Cora’s utility bill—but invigorating shower, I pulled out my favorite dress. It’s a simple, black, linen dress that is straight and roomy, covering my skinny torso but revealing my long legs.

It’s like a formal version of a beach dress, and I felt better immediately after I put it on.

I breezed into this restaurant with a smile, and was so grateful to see Vito’s kind face.

Before we even ordered, he explained what the auditor found out. And that’s where the morning bliss came to a halt.

For parts of his speech, my mind went blank, but I got the gist. Vito is trying to sell my Milan and London apartments, but the market is down, so it might take some time. But the lovely Maria cleaned me out.

Vito is heartbroken, and he offered to pay for my expenses for the next few months. He filed the charges before he left Europe, but the case of a cheated foreigner would hardly be a priority.

It might take a very long time before I get my money back. If I get it back, because God knows where Maria hid it.

“But they would cover your day-to-day while you’re trying to figure out what’s next for you. I have some interest from brands looking for a spokesperson as well.”

I perk up. “That might be more meaningful, and less draining. What brands?”

“A new line of tobacco vapes in Europe, and an energy drink here in the States.” He looks at me from above the rim of his glasses.

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