Chapter 1 : A Night at the Met

Sophie’s POV

‘I can't believe I'm walking and being celebrated in the same space the Met Gala is held every year,’ I thought to myself as I perused the ornate decorations that graced every wall and table.

The museum ballroom was tastefully decorated with a fusion of French elegance and New York grandeur. The walls were lined with glossy gold frames that highlighted the stunning artwork, and in the center of the room stood a magnificent marble sculpture in a glass display case.

I stood toward the front of the room and assessed the guests chatting excitedly. The tables were dressed with fine white linens, accented by tall golden candelabras and an array of crystal glasses and utensils. Ornamental vases filled with vibrant flowers adorned every corner, adding a splash of color to balance out the more traditional aesthetic. Meanwhile, guests mingled in tuxedos and long gowns that sparkled under the flickering chandelier light.

I glanced down at my ballgown and was thankful a stylist had helped dress me. I wasn't one to make a fuss about what I wore because I lived my life in the closed tombs of museums restoring art hundreds of years old. I typically wore paint-covered shirts and overalls. But today, I was dressed in the most beautiful gown I'd ever seen.

My tall, thin frame stood out as a canvas of femininity and softness. At least that was what me and the stylist were aiming for. The fabric was light and flowing - an ivory color that was touched with hints of blush around the neckline and sleeves. A close-fitting bodice highlighted my petite waist while layers of tulle cascaded down my body like a waterfall, providing me with a dreamy touch to it.

The dress was accessorized with a sparkling diamond necklace that rested just below my collarbone and set off the delicate pearl earrings that glimmered in the chandelier light.

I sipped my flute of champagne as I listened to the director of the museum's speech. He was going on and on about the work I had done on the collection, and I couldn't help but blush as the compliments flew from his mouth.

"Sophia Anderson has been a gift from heaven. When we first decided the Manet/Degas collection was going to be made into a main exhibition, we didn't know that it had been damaged when it was transported. Much to our shock and horror, we panicked when we unpacked and assessed the pieces," he paused to look around the audience, then went on. "But a little birdy whispered Sophia's name in my ear. The next day I looked through a catalog of her work. I was transfixed by her ability to restore and make new old works without losing any of the original artist’s flair."

The whole room listened in quiet silence as they waited for the reveal of the art. There were large and small paintings covered with shiny, burgundy cloth. After my speech following the directors, the cloth would be pulled, and my work would be broadcast to the hundreds of guests in attendance.

This was easily the largest unveiling I'd had in my career. I stood with my back straight, a confident look plastered on my face, but my heart pounding at a million. I deserved to be here, I knew that. I deserved it because of the sacrifices I'd made to ensure my work was of the highest quality. The artists I restored merited only the highest caliper. But this was the first time I was celebrated and praised like this, and I felt a bit overwhelmed.

"Can we all please give Sophie a round of well-earned applause and welcome her to the Met?" the director asked.

I began my walk to the podium with a thunderous roar of applause and my hands shaking. The walls shook with the clamorous sound of clapping and wolf whistling, and a smile unlike any I'd smiled before broke out on my face.

My heels clicked on the marble floor as I walked confidently towards the podium, feeling nothing but strong and empowered, and also humbled by the whole ceremony. I stopped to address the crowd and felt the energy radiating off of every single person in attendance.

"Thank you Director Hollein for your kind words," I started my speech. "It's an absolute honor to be here and I'm so proud of my work. I've been passionate about art since I was a small child. My favorite thing to do was study the old masters and copy their techniques - learning from them, but also understanding how they worked so that I could incorporate my unique style in my pieces."

I paused and shuffled my note card quickly, carefully making sure I had the right one in order so I didn't make myself look like a fool in front of the most important art critics and enjoyers in New York City.

"Art has always been something that fills me with tranquility. It helps me to express myself in ways that words can't, and it gives me an overwhelming sense of accomplishment when my work is appreciated by others. I take great pride in what I do, and for this reason, each piece I restore is done with immense care and dedication," I took a breath and smiled widely at the crowd, then started my final note card. "When restoring works of art, even more care must be taken because you are preserving pieces of history while adding your personal touches to bring the piece back to life. It's truly a beautiful process for both artist and viewer alike - one that requires patience, creativity, and skill - but most importantly respect for the original work itself."

I nodded toward the staff members who had stealthily walked up to the covered art pieces. They were patiently waiting for the signal to pull the cloth from the paintings. "Without further ado, we present to you the Manet/Dega collection," I loudly announced.

The room radiated with anticipation as the coverings were pulled, revealing a stunning array of both Manet and Dega's work. The crowd burst out into a loud round of applause as each piece was shown. The colors were bold and vibrant, while the details originally made by the artists were exquisite and intricate, I was proud to give them life again.

Everyone gasped in amazement at what stood before them - works of art that had been brought back to life by none other than me. Tears brimmed in my eyes as I looked around the room in complete disbelief at what had just happened.

It was an amazing feeling to have the audience appreciate my talent - they could tell that I had put a lot of effort into this momentous unveiling. With one final bow, I thanked the crowd and left the stage to mingle with the guests.

As I walked around the room and made small talk with the attendees, I was reminded of the power of art. Art transcended language barriers and spoke directly to our souls - something that was always true no matter what happened or changed in the world around us.

Max Hollien approached me and hugged me, "Thank you for your hard work, Sophia. I don't know what we'd have done if this project wasn't finished."

"It was my pleasure, I assure you. Every historical piece I get to see and touch is truly the most rewarding thing. Every day, I'm blown away that this is my reality," I answered him, really ready to get the hell out of here now. Art was my passion, but mingling with strangers was my least favorite part.

"You've earned it. You come highly recommended from every museum you've worked with. If you have a moment, there is someone I'd like to introduce you to," Max informed me.

I nodded my permission, and he guided me through the crowd to stand in front of an older man with dark hair. It was graying around his ears, but it did it in a way that only made him appear stronger and more mature. He stood with his back ramrod straight, and he exuded charm and power.

"Sophia, this is Alessandro Rossi. Alessandro, this is Sophia Anderson," Max introduced us.

"Ah, the woman of the hour," Alessandro said as he leaned forward and kissed the back of my extended hand. His Italian accent was thick and warm, and I smiled at his words.

"Hello, Mr. Rossi. It's so nice to meet you. Are you an artist or a lover of the craft?" I asked.

He grinned at me, "I wish I was an artist. But, alas, God gave me other talents. No, my wife loved and appreciated art. Because of that, I have many pieces in my collection. Believe it or not, I'm here because I have a job offer for you."

My eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't uncommon to get offers at parties like this, but they were usually from other museums, not personal collectors.

"And what would that job offer be?" I questioned him.

He guided me toward a quiet corner of the large room, and replied, "I have a villa as well as a small collection that I'd love to have restored to its former glory. It's very special to me and very unique. I haven't been able to find someone I trust, but my gut says you're the woman to do it."

My curiosity was immediately piqued, so I asked him, "Where is the villa?"

"Tuscany," he breathed.

A small gasp escaped my mouth, and I gave him a surprised look, "Oh, Mr. Rossi. That's quite a leap from New York. I'll have to think about it and get back to you.”

He chuckled, a warm and candid smile on his lips. “I wouldn’t have expected you to accept so fast anyway. But do consider it, please.”

I could only nod and smile nervously back. This was a very unusual request, and I would have to ask other people about him more. “Please, get in contact with my assistant and we can discuss the project in more detail. If you'd excuse me, my chariot should be waiting to take me home. Cinderella has to be home before midnight, you know."

He smiled kindly at my joke and took the card with my phone number on it, "Of course. My flight leaves tomorrow evening, I'll try to call and schedule a meeting sometime tomorrow if you're available. Have a wonderful evening, Cinderella."

Max, knowing I was anxious to get the hell out of there, walked me toward the exit and said, "You know, Alessandro is a very powerful, influential man. Not many people are invited to see his collection. From what I've gathered, he has many rare, unique pieces. I think you should seriously consider his offer."

I looked up at him and replied, "Thanks for the advice, Max. And thank you for all of the kind words you said during your speech. I've enjoyed working with you."

“You really did save our collection, so please don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever need references,” he kindly added.

Max and I said our goodbyes, and I stepped outside the museum into a chilly autumn evening. I squinted against the glare of streetlights and pulled my jacket around me as I scanned the sidewalk for my Uber. All of a sudden, my heart stopped - to my left stood Robert, my ex, hands in his pockets, gaze downcast.

He looked up and smiled at me, and a chill raced down my spine. Robert stepped toward me with a menacing look in his eyes and I tensed up, unable to move or speak.

“Sophi, babe…” his honey tone only made me want to run.

What was he doing here?! Was he waiting for me? This can not be a coincidence.

Suddenly two burly men appeared out of the shadows and blocked Robert's path, effectively halting his approach.

Alessandro Rossi strode toward us, his face tight with worry. He stopped in front of me and narrowed his coal-black eyes. "Is this man bothering you, Ms. Anderson?" His accented, baritone voice cut through the quiet like a blade.

"He...I..." I stumbled over my response before Robert spoke.

"We're old acquaintances," Robert answered him, and fear skirted through my psyche.

Alessandro's gaze flicked between Robert and me before he finally said, "I think it would be best if you two were no longer in the same vicinity."

He motioned for his henchmen to move past him, effectively blocking Robert from my view. Robert yelled something at me that I couldn't make out.

When I could breathe again, I looked up at Alessandro and saw a small smile playing on his lips. He offered me his arm and asked, "Would you like a ride home?"

My mind raced with the implications of his offer - it was risky to get into some rich stranger's car late at night. But something about Alessandro made me feel safe, so I graciously said, "Yes, please."

Robert seemed particularly upset by this turn of events, but he kept his mouth shut as we climbed into the awaiting limo.

As we pulled away from the curb, Alessandro said quietly, "The world has no place for men who strike fear into women."

I pensively considered what he said. Had Robert's presence affected me enough to alert Alessandro to my dread upon seeing him? I felt like I hid my reaction well, but Alessandro must have a sense of danger.

The limo drove through the night, and I realized we were heading toward my apartment. What was strange was that I hadn't told Alessandro where I lived. I was reminded of what Max had said about him earlier, he was a powerful, influential man who was interested in me for a job. I was sure he'd already researched everything there was to know about me. Including my address, rich people didn't have the same boundaries and limitations working-class people had.

I stayed quiet for the drive, as did Alessandro. When we pulled up to my apartment, he said, "Please consider having lunch with me tomorrow. There are many things I'd like to discuss with you."

I gave him a small smile. "I'll reach out tomorrow to let you know. Thank you for the ride," I replied as the limo door was opened.

I stepped out and walked to my apartment building as Alessandro and his men watched. I walked as quickly as my heels would allow and locked my apartment with finality once I was inside. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and began to take stock of what had taken place.

The encounter with Robert, Alessandro coming to my rescue, his offer of employment… It was almost too much for one evening. It seemed like he knew a lot about me even though we'd just met. I felt strange but also excited by the prospect of getting to know him better.

I decided to sleep on his offer, so I took a quick shower and got into bed. I had a busy day, and I needed to rearrange my schedule in case I went to lunch with Alessandro Rossi. The fact that I already was thinking of doing it was surprising enough.

Was I ready to adventure myself to the unknown?