Chapter 1
December 31, 2002
Paris, France
The new year was heralded in with the help of a beautifully crisp, clear evening, a light dusting of snow painted the roads.
The year Oralia Norman was bidding a fond farewell to had been a good one. Although her first love was sculpting, money to live on had been primarily made through her painting. However, it was now official, for the third straight year, she had had no need to supplement her income with other work. In her mind, that was success. A tremendous and impeccable reputation garnered through her artistic ability and hard work, a just reward for dedication and perseverance, had finally paid off.
She fussed before the mirror and thought back along the path she had chosen to follow. Putting her time in at various art festivals while working as a cocktail waitress at night for rent and food money had been exhausting. Now, she believed all those bottles of beer she had served, small talk she had made, helped to hone her skills at discussing her work with all types of people and on various levels.
At a few years shy of thirty, Lia was comfortable with where her life was and looked to be heading, both professionally and personally, although the latter was not much to speak of. She was not sure she had it in her to trust someone beyond a superficial level. Gifting her heart to another would never be easy and such a thing was difficult for her to visualize.
Turning, she peered over her shoulder to check her appearance from behind. Average in height and appearance, she had always felt lucky to be comfortable with her attributes. They were hers, so Lia felt secure and happy in accepting them. The platinum blonde hair was natural, and matched well with her large china blue eyes and easily tanned skin. Being neither slim nor fat, just curved in all the right places and a chest looking like it had been bought rather than genetic, had many a man coveting her body.
What she saw reflected in the mirror was an average woman. Sad as it was to say, she knew, and accepted that to others, she looked more like a Playboy centerfold than an artist. Unfortunately, it meant men stared at her with lust in their eyes and a hard-on poking out of their pants, while women frowned.
Problem was, many also treated her as if she was stupid, which Lia most definitely was not. She shook her head in disgust at how easily society was led by materialism and appearances.
She ensured the slit in her gown did not expose more than she felt comfortable with by repeatedly walking toward and away from the mirror. Oralia smiled as she remembered how she had first met her hosts for this evening. The thrill she'd felt with her first success resided in a special place, frequently pulled out and relived. On a whim and a prayer, she had submitted one of her sculpted pieces to a galleried show in NYC, and placed first. A world-renowned contemporary art connoisseur, who had been invited to act as a judge, had very much liked her piece.
After the competition, the man and his social maven wife took the time to separate her from the crowd and get to know her. They had shared their praise of her work, telling her how they found her work very tactile, approachable, and utterly peaceful. By the end of the evening, they had purchased a series of four small stone pieces called Organics for their personal collection.
Pride, a feeling of success, euphoria and a sense of validation was what she had taken away from her first meeting with the Antonellis. Following many months of correspondences, conversations and visits, she discovered the kindly older man was none other than the Gianni Antonelli, owner of world class Formula One Sorreti Racing Team. Identified around the world as a shrewd and ruthless businessman, he had a reputation of possessing the golden touch.
Over time, the acquaintance between herself and the couple had become more than artist and collector. Respect and enjoyment led Lia to look upon the couple as the grandparents she had always dreamed of having. Despite their friendship, she was still surprised when Gianni Antonelli commissioned her to paint the team portrait for the 2002 racing year. Traditionally, the portrait was a photograph of both teams on a track with their cars in the background, but this time, Gianni looked to shake things up and do something different. After having seen a few of her painted pieces, he had mentioned he'd liked her personal style and technique, obviously enough to offer her the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
She fussed with her earrings and thought of her hostess, a small frown gathering between her eyebrows. Her relationship with the older woman was more tenuous for Lia than the one she had with Gianni. Socially, Flora Antonelli was no easy woman to get to know or spend time with. Full of disdain, she often sneered at what had quickly become a horrible trend: fame for all the wrong reasons. They had agreed that too many people were honored and placed upon pedestals for doing nothing of merit or worse, revered by their fans, even when they flaunted their illegal antics.
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