Allegra.

“You can’t be serious,” my agent, Kimberly, said to me as we sat in a little cafe in Rome overlooking the Colosseum. She sipped a cappuccino and stared over the top of the tiny little cup at me with wide, incredulous eyes.

“You didn’t think I’d stay out of work forever,” I scoffed, sipping my own cappuccino. “I’m a model. I model. That’s what I do. That’s how I make money.”

“I thought assassins ...