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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.
