Found You Again

ChapterThree

Sophie placed the card on the table across her brushes and sank into a couch, still unsure about what just happened. Ethan Caldwell just walked into her studio to personally hand her an invitation to the Caldwell Charity Gala, an event reserved for elites amongst elites.

The question nagging her mind was why? What use could she possibly serve there?

She had looked at his face, searching for clues but his expression gave away none. He handed her the paper with one hand, while the other rested casually in his pocket.

“Because you’re part of the story now.”

The words looped in her head like an alarm.

Wait! She was going to be responsible for redesigning the Caldwell Tower. Of course. She was just one of the faces they wanted to parade before the public. That was it. Pure optics, nothing more.

She shook her head, not quite convinced. She wasn’t in PR. Her job was to make the space functional, not mingle with billionaires in dresses worth more than her life earnings.

Still sunken in her bean bag, debating what to do about her imposed invitation, her phone vibrated with a text. It was from Ethan.

The theme is Moulin Rouge but feel free to surprise me. I’ll have a car pick you up at 7:30PM. Don’t be late.

“Moulin Rouge?” She wondered, out loud. “What the hell does that even mean?”

The Caldwell Charity Gala was famous for its scale, elegance, and exclusivity. It wasn’t just an event. It was the event. The guest list looked like a Forbes List. CEOs, politicians, philanthropists and people whose names carried enough weight to open doors without knocking flooded the place. People who “No” didn’t exist for.

This year, it was hosted at the Marina Estate Pavilion owned by the Marinas, a family conglomerate existing as both friends and partners to the Caldwells.

The Marina Estate was an architectural marvel, earning the title “Little Titanic” because of its shape. Outside, curved marble arches caught light. Inside, chandeliers spilled radiance across polished floors, luxurious jewelries and cutleries.

Sophie stepped out of what she believed was the most luxurious ride into a whirlpool of grandeur. She was even more taken aback when her door was opened for her.

Composing herself, she accepted the hand of her escort and let him help her out.

Together, they strolled along the pathway, through the doors and into the opulent spectacle.

An off-shoulder mermaid dress fitted with flawless precision, transformed her from her usual working outfits into a figure of high social status. Nobody would question it if she were introduced as a model or a stylist.

A neckpiece graced her collarbone, sharing some of the spotlight with her face.

Inside, a live quartet performed classical tunes on a suspended platform. Their music gracefully danced through the air, mingling with the soft clink of glasses and low murmur of conversation.

Evading curious stares, her eyes swept the room, unsure what she was looking for, until she found him.

Ethan stood at the foot of the stairs, a half-empty glass balanced loosely between his fingers. He circled the rim with his index as he exchanged idle chatter with a small company. But his eyes told tales of his boredom as he listened lifelessly.

An Oxford-blue tuxedo accentuated his frame with such perfection, it looked like it may have been sewn on him. A black bow tie sat in his crisp white collar shirt, outlining his full neck.

Even amid a crowd of dignified linen and sparkling jewels, he commanded attention. Countless figures gathered around him, eager to share a handshake.

He laughed lightly at something one of the men said and let his gaze wander, as if searching for a reason to leave. Then his eyes met hers.

Sophie swore she saw his face brighten for a fleeting moment, but immediately brushed it aside. Ethan Caldwell, the man she had heard as cold and calculating couldn’t possibly reveal such warmth. Moreover, not for her. She was only here for appearances.

He excused himself with ease as someone who never had to explain his exits and crossed the room with long, relaxed strides.

“You look different,” he said when he reached her, his eyes fixed on hers.

Her brows lifted. “Is that a compliment, Mr Caldwell?” She asked, unsure if he was teasing or being sincere.

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he replied calmly, but edged with invitation

Sophie rolled her eyes. Now this was the Ethan she had heard of. The unapologetic aloof billionaire.

“Would it kill you to give a proper compliment,” she retorted.

His mouth curved. “It’s no surprise you look lovely in your dress. You’re a stunning woman, Sophie.”

His words caught her off guard. Her mouth curved indecisively between a frown and a smile but ended with the latter.

Before she could say anything else, his hand brushed lightly against a small part of her bare back.

“Come,” he said. “Let me introduce you to a few people.”

She nodded, her heartbeat thrumming a little too fast.

Two hours later, Sophie found herself watching bubbles in a champagne glass. The first cold she had felt all evening. She had exchanged countless warm handshakes with entrepreneurs, city officials and entertainers whose posters she’d have plastered on her bedroom walls if she was still sixteen.

Everyone was pleasant but she still couldn’t shake the feeling of not belonging. Like eyes were silently judging her.

She had come to become comfortable with not being seen. Her work involved bringing others’ visions to life rather than being part of the spectacle herself.

All the while, Ethan barely left her side.

Sometimes, he stood close enough that they resembled couples rather than business partners.

When he’d step away to greet someone, his eyes would somehow find her again. The gentle, intentional nudges with his hands, the leans to whisper in her ear when the hall was too loud. It all felt too natural, nothing like she expected they’d share when he invited her.

Not long after the dance had just begun, he appeared beside her as if conjured.

“Dance with me,” he said simply.

There was no reason to refuse, yet she did. Whether it was because she hadn’t danced in forever or she couldn’t see herself dancing with Ethan Caldwell was a question she didn’t have an answer to.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly…” she attempted to reject

“I won’t take no, Miss Sophie.”

She sighed before setting down her glass. He led her to the centre of the floor, his hand firmly at her back now.’

“You move well,” he complimented. “I imagined a woman of your nature wouldn’t have time to dance.”

“I used to take dancing classes in my teens.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Life got busier.”

They swayed in silence for a few seconds, then the song reached a twist and he spun her accordingly.

“So, is this still part of optics or what?” She blurted, looking to appease the question running wild in her head.

“Optics?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“Isn’t that why I’m here? The face behind the design for the new Caldwell Tower.”

“You think I invited you here for public perception,” he chuckled. “Sophia Bennett, I didn’t know comedy was one of your forte.”

She tilted her head, feeling a bit stupid. “Why else would you invite me, then?”

“Because,” he dragged. “I want you to be here. That’s all there is to it.”

He leaned in, close enough that she felt his breath on her earlobe. “You’re all that matters here,” he whispered.

Her breath caught. She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but a man in a navy suit approached.

“Mr Caldwell,” the man called. “Your attention is urgently required.”

Ethan excused himself and she watched him disappear behind a closed door.

Later, she slipped out onto the balcony for fresh air. It only smelled like overpriced perfumes and champagnes inside.

Ethan’s words from earlier swirled in her head in unison with her glass at hand. However, her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an unfamiliar voice behind her.

“Good evening,” the voice called out.

Startled, she almost dropped her glass.

She was so engrossed in thoughts, she didn’t hear the footsteps approach her.

She turned to see a man she suspected was in his mid 40s.

He stood proud in his tailored suit with a finesse that told her he was of high standing. Few strands of grey hair mixed with his slicked-back brown hair, though his face was clean shaven. A slight belly betrayed his age but not his discipline.

“I’m Luca. Luca Giovanni,” he said with a stare that made her uneasy.

He put his hand forward for a shake, revealing a white glove with black embroidery.

“Sophie Bennett,” she replied, taking his hand.

He received hers with a gentle but firm grip and to surprise, brought it up for a kiss.

Her breath hitched, but her expression remained the same.

“I’ve been watching you all evening,” he started. “It’s been my intention to speak with you but Mr Caldwell never let you out of his sight. One would almost think you were couples.”

Sophie eyes bulged, her drink almost exploding from her mouth. She coughed a few times and wiped her mouth.

“We’re nothing like that. I’m just re-designing the Caldwell Tower,” she announced.

“Design?” He chucked. “Perhaps you should come take a look at my office sometime.”

“Whenever you’re ready, Mr Giovanni.”

“Luca is fine,” he said, waving his hands. “And I hope I can call you Sophie too.”

“S-Sure,” she stammered, unsure where this was heading.

Luca closed the distance between them in a few steps. “Dance with me, Miss Sophie.”

Sophie could feel his breath on her face. She detected no alcohol, only mint. “I-I’m not sure. I’m a bit tired.”

“Nonsense! It’ll be fun,” he pressed, his hand now pushing back stray curls of her hair.

A familiar voice rang through the air and Sophie exhaled in relief.

“Is there something you want with my guest, Mr Luca?” Ethan barked, his tone masking annoyance with civility.