one night in Italy || kth

introduzione

I, Maribella Costa was officially back.

It felt scary to say these words aloud. I really was back. I knew deep in my heart that I had changed since being out of the spotlight, both physically and mentally. But whether that was for better or for worse, I wasn't so sure yet. But I was soon to find out.

"Darling you look..." I averted my gaze from my reflection in the mirror to Allesandro who stood not far behind me, one hand on his hip, "bellissimo".
His lips made a smacking sound as he blew a very well known 'French kiss' of his at me.

Allesandro. It has been a number of years since I met him at the well-known after party of Milano fashion week. By my sheer luck I so happened to spill my full glass of red wine over his pale blue Fendi designer suit.

"Darling. you should really watch where you're going" he commented as I attempted, open mouthed and apologetic to clean the deep red stains off with my hands alone,

"I really am so sorry" I muttered, feeling as though the whole room must've been staring at THE Maribella Costa making a fool out of herself "merda, the paparazzi will make a field day out of this"

"If I'm completely honest..." he leaned back, taking a sip of his cocktail "it's made the outfit pop more. I did tell my agency that it looked shit at each and every dress fitting. And can you believe it cost just over two and a half thousand euros!"

"NO!" I gasped, as he nodded his head in an 'I know, crazy right?' manner "so maybe it did deserve the accidental spill of the wine"

"You're absolutely right it did"

I now gave Allesandro a small smile. Looking back over  at myself in the golden framed mirror, I pouted slightly yet anybody else sat here like me would be grinning from ear to ear. A long, red ruffled material dress that cut into a V-cut at the neck was hugging to my body, shaping the curves around my waist and complimenting my bronzed skin tone. My unruly curls that normally hung loose were slicked back into a neat bun, yet a few loose strands framed around my face. Here I sat, my makeup artist adding the final touches to my lips, and I working around her to attach the dangled diamond earrings to my ear lobes, feeling underwhelmed.

There had been numerous occasions I had been called beautiful. My father was the first, where according to my mother, his words being 'isn't she beautiful' as he held me for the first time. The second had been a high school date calling me 'beautiful' when I walked down the steps of my parents house in my prom dress, and the third. Well. He had been my first heartbreak. He had called me beautiful every day, even on the day he had broken my heart. So Allesandro calling me beautiful didn't really have much meaning to me. It was a word. Yes, it was a lovely word, but, it had got to the point where it had no oozing, butterflies-in-your-stomach affect on me.

"Thank you" I muttered under my breath, as my makeup artist stepped back away from my eye-line to appreciate the whole masterpiece she had just created.

"So..." Allesandro made his way into the room "Maribella do tell us...do you feel you're getting too old for performing on stage?" he held up his hand imitating a fake microphone as I gave whacked it away playfully "and how are the vocal cords, still working?"

"Let me see..." I pretended to think, averting my gaze up towards the ceiling before holding my middle finger up at Alessandro his face falling into a cheeky grin "but in all seriousness I'm stressing out of MY mind" I groaned, spinning around in the chair to face him directly.