Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ZOE
I step out of the car, my heart thudding in my chest as I take in the extravagant venue before me.
The large, elegant hall is adorned with lavish decorations. The runway stretches out like a gleaming path, surrounded by rows of chairs filled with fashion elites, media, and influencers. The atmosphere buzzes with excitement and anticipation, a tangible energy that makes my nerves flutter.
Valerie stands beside me, her presence a comforting anchor. We both look elegant and composed, our outfits carefully chosen like armors, designed to reflect our shared determination and professionalism. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. This is it—the moment I’ve been working toward, the chance to prove myself not just to Sabine, but to the entire fashion world.
As we step into the hall, my eyes scan the room. Faces blur together in a sea of expectations and judgments. My pulse quickens as I spot Sabine across the room, already surrounded by admirers and photographers. She looks confident, almost smug, and I feel a surge of determination rise within me. This is my chance to show everyone what I’m capable of.
Valerie squeezes my hand gently, pulling me back from my thoughts. “You’ve got this,” she whispers to me. I nod, grateful for her support. Together, we make our way toward our designated area.
Every step feels like a march toward destiny. My mind races with thoughts of all the work that led up to this moment—the late nights sketching designs, the countless hours sewing fabric until my fingers bled. All of it has brought me here, to this glittering hall where dreams are made or shattered.
As Valerie and I weave through the crowd, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and anticipation, my eyes catch sight of him.
He is not wearing his disguise anymore. I can finally really see him in the light of day.
Instant fear grips my intestines as I realize what that means. His father would recognize him now too. He came to the show as himself, despite the danger it will put him into. Did he do it on purpose?
Virgilio stands near the entrance, a vision of striking confidence in one of the suits I designed for him during our first week together. The charcoal fabric clings perfectly to his lean frame, accentuating every line and curve. His presence is magnetic, drawing my gaze like a moth to a flame. My breath catches in my throat, and a rush of fury and apprehension floods through me.
I can’t let this moment pass without addressing everything that’s been left unsaid between us. I need to understand his perspective, to share my own feelings and find some clarity. And I need to know why he is finally showing up as himself.
“Valerie, I need a moment,” I whisper, barely able to tear my eyes away from Virgilio. She follows my gaze and nods, recognition and understanding flashing in her eyes.
“Go. I’ll handle things here,” she assures me.
With a deep breath, I make my way towards Virgilio. He looks up as I approach, his green eyes widening slightly.
“What are you doing here?!” I grab his arm, feeling the familiar warmth and strength of his muscles, and I drag him to somewhere quieter.
He stutters something about wanting to support me, even from a distance. I scoff at his words as I lead him through the maze of people and into the area backstage. The noise from the main hall fades into a distant hum as we step into the secluded space.
I turn to face him, taking in every detail of his undisguised face. The scars that tell stories of pain and survival, the tension in his jaw, the vulnerability hidden behind his steely gaze. My heart pounds in my chest as I search for the right words.
"Virgilio," I begin, my voice steady despite the swirl of emotions inside me. "We need to talk."
He nods, "I know," he replies softly,
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence stretches between us like an invisible thread, taut with tension and unspoken words. Finally, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"I want to clear the air between us," I say, my voice steady but filled with a sense of urgency. "We need closure. And maybe, just maybe, a new beginning."
Virgilio’s eyes soften, the hard edges of his expression melting away. He nods, "I want that too," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.
I take a deep breath, readying myself to share my truth. "When I found out about your plan with Dante... it broke me," I begin, my eyes searching his for understanding. "I felt betrayed. Like I was just a pawn in some game I didn't understand."
Virgilio’s hand tightens around mine, a silent plea for forgiveness. "Zoe, it was never about using you," he says earnestly. "I wanted to protect you from my father’s wrath. Dante and I thought keeping you in the dark would be safer for you."
"But it wasn't safe," I counter, my voice rising. "It left me feeling alone and confused."
His eyes drop to the floor, guilt etched into every line of his face. "I know," he whispers. "And I'm so sorry for that."
I can see the sincerity in his eyes, but there's more I need to understand. "Why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me the truth?" I ask softly.
Virgilio looks up, pain flickering across his features. "Because I was afraid," he confesses. "I was scared. Scared that I'd lose you forever."
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. The fear of losing each other has been a shadow over our budding relationship from the start, because of our past. But now, hearing it spoken aloud, it brings everything into sharp focus.
"I never wanted to leave you," I say quietly, my own fears bubbling to the surface. "But I need honesty and trust—two things we both seem to struggle with."
He nods slowly, taking in my words. "You're right," he admits.
I take a deep breath. "When Dante offered me that week at his compound... I agreed because I thought it was the only way to save you," I say, my voice trembling slightly.
Virgilio steps closer, his hand cupping my cheek gently. The warmth of his touch sends shivers down my spine.
"Zoe," he says softly, his green eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that takes my breath away. "I care about you too, more than anything else in this world."
For a moment, we stand there in silence, just looking at each other.
"I thought I was protecting you by hiding things, but I realize now that I should have trusted you more. I'm sorry for the pain I caused you."
His words are heavy with sincerity and remorse. Tears well up in my eyes as I listen to him, my heart softening with each word. "I understand why you did it, Virgilio," I say, my voice trembling. "And I'm sorry too. I see now that you were trying to keep me safe, and I should have trusted you more. Thank you for everything you did for me."
He steps closer, wrapping his arms around me in a tight embrace. The tension between us melts away, replaced by relief and warmth. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops me. Oh, how I've missed this.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he whispers against my hair.
"I know," I reply softly, burying my face in his chest. "And I never wanted to leave you. But we can't keep secrets from each other anymore."
He nods, pulling back slightly to look into my eyes. "No more secrets," he promises.
I smile through my tears, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. "No more secrets," I agree.
We stand there for a moment, just holding each other, before I tilt my head up and press my lips to his. The kiss is gentle at first, a tentative exploration of familiar territory. But soon it deepens, fueled by the pent-up emotions we've both been carrying in our hearts.
His hands cradle my face as he kisses me back with a fervor that leaves me breathless. It's as if all the pain and misunderstandings are being washed away in this one moment of connection.
When we finally pull apart, we're both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other.
"I love you," he says quietly, his voice raw with honesty.
"I love you too," I reply, feeling the truth of those words resonate deep within me.
We share another kiss, this one softer but no less meaningful. It's a promise to move forward together, to face whatever challenges come our way as a united front.
Hand in hand with Virgilio, I return to the main hall. My heart feels lighter, my confidence bolstered by our encounter. The warmth of his hand in mine is a silent promise that we’re in this together. As we approach our seats, I catch sight of Valerie, her elegant figure poised and composed.
Valerie smiles warmly as we take our seats beside her. "Everything is ready," she whispers, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The reassurance in her voice calms the last of my nerves.
I glance across the room and spot Sabine, seated on the opposite side. Her gaze reflects a poisonous blend of disdain and jealousy, but Valerie’s calm demeanor is unwavering. She simply ignores Sabine's dirty looks, focusing instead on the task at hand.
A man in a sharp suit steps up to the podium at the front of the room. He clears his throat and begins to speak, his voice echoing through the hall. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this highly anticipated runway show. Today, we have gathered some of the most talented designers to showcase their creations.
"He pauses, allowing the audience to settle before continuing. "Before we begin, let me introduce our esteemed panel of judges."
He gestures towards a group of well-dressed individuals seated at a long table near the runway. They each nod or wave as their names are called out, their faces serious but expectant.
“First, we have Emilia Castelli, editor-in-chief of Vogue Italia.” A sophisticated woman with a sharp bob and an air of authority nods curtly. Her presence alone sends a ripple of excitement through the crowd.
“And next, Mark Faberson, renowned fashion critic and author.” Mark offers a polite wave, his expression betraying nothing but professional interest. His reputation for brutally honest reviews is well-known.
“Following him is the talented designer, Amber Sander.” Amber, a vision in a chic black ensemble, acknowledges the crowd with a warm smile. Her innovative designs have been making waves in the industry.
"Now, without further ado," the man says with a flourish, "let's begin the show!" The lights dim slightly, and a hush falls over the crowd.
I squeeze Virgilio’s hand tightly, feeling his reassuring presence beside me. This is it—the moment we’ve all been waiting for. After fifteen years, we made it.
My heart races with anticipation as I lean my head on Virgilio's shoulder, feeling the comforting rise and fall of his breath. The runway show begins, and the first model steps out, clad in an elegant gown I designed that seems to float with every step. My heart skips a beat.
The model glides down the runway, exuding confidence and grace. My breath catches as I see my vision brought to life with such elegance. The audience murmurs appreciatively, their eyes fixed on every detail. Virgilio squeezes my hand, his silent support a balm to my nerves.
"That's one of mine," I whisper to him, unable to hide the pride in my voice. He turns his head slightly to kiss my temple, his lips warm against my skin.
"You're incredible," he murmurs back, his words filling me with a renewed sense of confidence.
More models follow, each showcasing a different piece from my collection. The flowing lines, bold colors, and innovative cuts all come together to create a cohesive and striking presentation. As each design takes its turn on the runway, I feel a swell of pride for the hard work and late nights that went into creating them.
"That one too," I point out as another model struts down the runway in a sleek, tailored suit.
When Sabine's designs start appearing on the runway, I watch intently. Her pieces are equally impressive—bold, edgy, and meticulously crafted. Despite our rivalry, I can’t help but admire her talent.
"Sabine’s work is always so detailed," I comment quietly to Virgilio and Valerie as a model wearing one of Sabine’s intricate gowns steps onto the runway. The garment glitters under the lights, capturing everyone’s attention.
They both nod. "She’s good," Virgilio agrees.
"That one’s beautiful," I say honestly as another of Sabine's creations—a stunning cocktail dress with elaborate embroidery—makes its way down the runway.
“It truly is a work of art,” Valerie admits despite her feelings.
Virgilio smiles at me warmly. "Is it okay if I say I prefer my girlfriend's designs better?" Virgilio whispers, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Am I your girlfriend now?” I chuckle softly, feeling a rush of warmth.
“Are you not?” He quirks an eyebrow at me.
“Only if you are my boyfriend.” I tease him.
“Deal.” He smirks, then kisses me on the cheek while I keep intently watching Sabine’s runway.
The final model steps onto the runway, wearing the pièce de résistance of my collection—a breathtaking gown that took days to perfect. The audience gasps in admiration as the model glides down the runway, the gown’s intricate lace and flowing silhouette catching the light beautifully. My heart swells with pride and anticipation as I watch every graceful step.
Valerie leans over and squeezes my arm gently. "You did it, Zoe,"
I nod, my eyes never leaving the runway. The applause grows louder as the model reaches the end of the runway and strikes a pose, showcasing every exquisite detail of the gown. The lights dim slightly, signaling the end of the show, and the audience erupts into enthusiastic applause.
The applause still roars in my ears as the man at the podium gestures for silence. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have witnessed some truly extraordinary designs today," he announces, his voice resonating through the hall. "I would like to invite both Sabine Johnson and Zoe Gray to the stage."
I rise from my seat and Virgilio gives my hand a final squeeze before I let go, feeling the loss of his warmth instantly. As I walk towards the stage, Sabine joins me, her expression unreadable. We stand side by side, the spotlight bathing us in its harsh glow.
"Both of you have presented remarkable collections," the man continues, looking between us with a smile. "Now, it's time for our audience to vote. Please use the small tabs in front of you to cast your votes."
A large screen flickers to life behind us, displaying two different colors. Numbers begin to appear, changing rapidly as votes are tallied. My breath catches in my throat; I have no idea which color represents my designs or Sabine’s.
One number starts to pull ahead, higher by twenty-four votes. My heart pounds louder than ever as I watch the gap widen slightly, then narrow again.
The man raises his hand for attention once more. "Thank you for voting," he says, turning back to us. "The time has come to reveal the winner."
The room feels like it's holding its breath as the judges deliberate. My heart races, each beat a reminder of how much this moment means to me. I glance at Sabine beside me, her face a mask of calm professionalism, though I know she must be feeling the same tension I feel.
Finally, the man at the podium seems to receive a message through his in-earbud, then he clears his throat and addresses the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. The judges have made their decision."
The large screen behind us flickers to life once more. The man at the podium smiles warmly.
"It is my great pleasure to announce that the winner of today's fashion show is... Zoe Gray!"
The hall erupts in applause. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I look out into the crowd, seeing Virgilio and Valerie standing with beaming smiles. The noise is overwhelming, but in the best possible way.
I turn to Sabine and extend my hand. She hesitates for a brief moment before taking it. We exchange a respectful nod, acknowledging each other as worthy competitors. Despite our rivalry, I can't help but admire her talent and determination.
"Congratulations," Sabine says, her voice steady but with a hint of genuine respect.
"Thank you," I reply sincerely. "You did an amazing job too."
The competition was fierce, but it brought out the best in both of us.
The moment is overwhelming, but in the best possible way. This is everything I've worked for.
Just as I'm about to step off the runway, a sudden, loud noise pierces through the air. My heart skips a beat. Gunshots. The crowd erupts into chaos. People scream and duck for cover, their faces twisted in fear.
My heart races as I look around frantically, trying to understand what's happening. Panic grips me, making it hard to think clearly. My eyes dart across the room, and that's when I see him—Benedetto Messina. He's here, and he's not alone. His men storm the venue, their faces set with grim determination.
Everything feels like it's moving in slow motion.