Chapter 40

Chapter

Forty

"Depending on who viewed it,

Persephone had either been stolen or she had run from Demeter.

Either way, she made herself queen."

― Olivie Blake

Sofiya

Amidst the elegance and excitement of The Changing Season exhibition's opening night, a few unexpected mishaps unfolded: some guests got so tipsy they accidentally shattered champagne glasses, Jade kept flirting with different men, and an annoying flicker from a display light added to the chaos.

However, these minor incidents couldn't overshadow the celebration of my dream finally coming true.

The grand hall hummed with well-dressed guests, immersed in conversation and captivated by the exquisite sculptures and paintings on display.

Cheryl Bloss, radiant in her stunning violet Vintage Chanel dress, appeared deep in conversation with her husband, who was a good twenty years her senior.

I couldn't help but wonder if they were debating the mysteries of the universe or simply the rising taxes due to inflation. Perhaps they held the secrets to world peace beneath their overpriced attire.

Near the bar, Lory Clarks and Deliah Hassan, both dressed in fashionable Yves Saint Laurent outfits, shared conspiratorial chuckles. I could only imagine the hilarious gossip or inside joke that had them in stitches. Maybe they had stumbled upon a secret stash of unlimited cocaine, relishing the thrill of keeping it to themselves.

Meanwhile, Alexander Mono, slightly tipsy, sought attention from his father Richard, who looked more exasperated than usual. It seemed like the classic tale of a son trying to impress his father, only to receive eye rolls in return.

In the background, Alexsei and Angelo, masters of nonchalant charm, leaned against a pillar, sipping champagne with a sophistication that could rival James Bond.

I wonder what they were discussing.

The night before the big event, Jade, my fashion lifesaver, still remembering my last fashion disaster, showed up at my apartment with a victorious grin and a crème Elie Saab dress. The backless design and silky fabric felt amazing, and the stylish slit on the right leg added just the right amount of flair.

Slipping into the dress, I felt a rush of confidence.

With my hair in a sleek bun, and soft glam make up, I barely recognized myself in the mirror. I felt… beautiful .

Speaking of the little devil, there she was, deep in conversation with Mario Gruzzio himself. Her gold sparkly midi dress hugged her figure perfectly, reflecting the party's shimmering lights and captivating everyone's attention.

Even Angelo, usually composed, couldn't hide his disapproving frown.

I couldn't help but smile in amusement.

I sipped my champagne and leaned against the wall, taking it all in.

The exhibit hall was stunning, and three incredible sculptures dominated the room, depicting perfectly Greek mythology's iconic trio: Hades, Persephone, and Demeter.

They were arranged in a way that told a powerful story.

Demeter, carved from pristine white marble, stood with her arms outstretched, her tender gaze fixed on Persephone.

Persephone, in the center, looked torn and full of longing, her form crafted from radiant stone.

Behind her, Hades loomed from dark marble, his expression determined as he reached out to Persephone, pulling her towards the Underworld.

The setup made it seem like they were caught in an eternal dance of love, loss, and yearning.

Standing there, seeing my vision brought to life, I felt a rush of emotions.

Maybe it was the sheer joy of seeing it all come together, or the strange longing in my heart.

I felt both thrilled and drained, yearning for someone I couldn't have.

"You did a fantastic job, mia cara ," Mario said, snapping me out of my trance.

I smiled, feeling a rush of gratitude. "Thank you again for believing in my vision, Mario. "

Mario Gruzzio, a middle-aged Italian artist, was one of Europe's most famous and sought-after painters.

At five foot seven with a long gray beard, he may have looked unassuming, but his genius mind created artwork worth millions. Having him loan us four pieces wasn't just luck; it was a blessing.

"I want to thank you too! I never imagined my art would blend so beautifully with these Greek sculptures. This is simply stunning," he said, pulling me into a warm hug.

" Grazie , Mario."

"I'll be sure to tell Angelo how lucky he is to have you," he winked. "And if you ever find yourself in Italy, give me a call. I'll be your tour guide and show you the best spots."

"I'll definitely let you know if I ever make it to Italy," I promised, my eyes lighting up at the thought of exploring Dante Alighieri's homeland.

We chatted a bit more, sharing our excitement about the exhibit and discussing art and life in general.

Mario's genuine enthusiasm and warmth made the conversation feel like a cherished memory in the making.

The night pressed on, and the exhibit hall buzzed with energy.

Though it was only midnight, the crowd showed no signs of thinning. Conversations flowed, laughter echoed, and eyes were glued to the towering 9-foot sculptures.

Despite the vibrant scene, I was exhausted.

I signaled to Jade that I was ready to call it a night. She waved and blew me a playful kiss.

Leaving the lively ambiance behind, I made my way to the elevator, my high heels echoing through the corridors.

As the doors closed, my mind buzzed with thoughts of love and love. An unease prickled at my senses, but I brushed it off as nerves .

Stepping into my office, I retrieved my clutch from the desk, eager to retreat to the comfort of my bed.

However, I couldn't resist taking one last glance at the enchanting New York City night through the window, captivated by how the city lights shimmered like a sea of diamonds against the dark sky.

Suddenly, goosebumps spread across my skin, and a chill ran down my spine. A strange feeling crept into the room, putting me on edge. The door to my office swung open quietly, causing my heart to race.

Then, a familiar smell filled the room, taking over my senses and stirring up dark memories.

It was a scent I knew instantly, one that carried a name.

Mikha?l Volkov.