Peter Burke's eyebrows were crinkled; a sign Neal Caffrey took as bad. Burke was no-nonsense, but only the toughest of cases changed his facial structure beyond the usual look of exasperation. "New case, Peter?" The younger man asked.
"Yea, and a real pain it's gonna be..." He slapped the blue file in his hand onto the table. Neal picked it up, and stopped after glancing at the name on the first page attached.
"Exactly." Peter noticed the surprise on the ex-con's face. "We're dealing with the crème de la crème, this time. Not our usual high flying white collars. I take it you're familiar with the Rossetti family?"
Neal smirked. "Giants in the realm of art, also literature. One of the remnants of Italian aristocracy that still has the wealth to strengthen its name…and reputation." Many members of the Rossetti line were accused of high-profile thefts, including Adolfo Rossetti, who was accused of having Vincenzo Peruggia steal the Mona Lisa in 1911, though nothing was ever proved and Peruggia stated he knew nothing of the Rossetti line. Neal's lips curled into an excited smile. "The family home in Palermo is said of be a museum, surpassed only by the likes of the Louvre, Sistine Chapel and the gallery in Uffizi. But, why is the FBI investigating Italian royalty?"
"Esmerelda Gabrielle Rosseti, eldest daughter and heiress to the family cash pot, flew into New York two days ago to acquire another painting to add to the Rossetti collection. However, last night, the painting was stolen from her suite in the Hilton." Peter shook his head, "You can imagine how it will affect international relations if the piece isn't retrieved soon. I'll be hearing from Hughes on this..." Peter sighed, "don't you art thieves ever take a break?"
"Not if a Rossetti is buying a painting. So, what's the name of this piece of art that attracted a family member, that too the heiress and not a personal shopper?" Neal was aware of the collectors these families employed to obtain artwork, and it was only in the rarest cases that one of the family traveled personally to make an acquisition.
"No idea." Burke was already in his coat. "But, we'll know soon enough….So, get up. We're going to investigate the scene of the crime."
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"Please enter." Peter opened the door to the presidential suite, and was assaulted by a scent of lily. He stepped in and saw that the main living area was almost heaped with lilies. Placed in exquisite vases, they adorned the tables (a great in number), the mantle and even some placed on the cream colored carpet. "Someone likes flowers..." he muttered, before turning his attention to the person coming out of the adjacent room.
"The Federal Bureau of Investigation, I presume?" The woman's words were laced with an Italian accent, as were her features typically Italian and extremely beautiful.
"Peter Burke, FBI." Burke held out his hand, which the woman took gracefully. "And this," he gestured to Neal "is Neal Caffrey. He's a consultant."
Neal smiled and took her hand as well. The woman returned the smile, Caffrey's charm already taking effect. "A pleasure, Mr. Caffrey. I am Concetta Agnoli, accountant to Lady Rossetti. She will be with us in a moment..."
As she spoke, the door to the room from which the accountant had emerged, opened yet again. A woman, whom Peter assumed to be the heiress, appeared and for a moment, Peter and Neal felt as if they were seeing someone from another world.
The woman was medium height, about five feet or maybe a bit more. Her face was framed with tresses of ebony colored hair that cascaded past slim shoulders. She wore a gown of what seemed like Muga silk, lightly golden in color that accentuated the fairness of her honey colored skin. She wore no jewellery, except a bracelet of pearls around her right wrist. However, inspite of the beauty of her attire, it was her face that was most striking. It was, for the lack of another word, lovely. She resembled none of the exquisite models of Neal's escapades, nor any of the corporate beauties Peter encountered among his wife's office friends and colleagues. Her face was soft, fairer than her arms which were uncovered by the gown, and held a shade of mystery, as if she was someone out of a painting, a scenery of stormy skies and rustling leaves.
"Please, gentlemen, have a seat." She gestured towards the rose colored sofa in the middle of the living area. Her accent was much less pronounced, though still noticeable. The men made their way to the sofa while she sat on a small armchair, facing them. Peter cleared his throat and began, but not before noticing the deep admiration in Neal's eyes.
"Miss Rossetti, I presume..." Peter was answered by a nod. "I'm Agent Burke and this is Neal Caffrey, consultant." The woman nodded once again at Neal, a gentle smile gracing her features. "So, Can you tell me what happened, from the beginning?"
"I returned to the suite with the painting at about nine last night, had it placed in the safe in the bedroom, and then left again for a while. I returned about eleven thirty, and when I reopened the safe to look at it, my precious painting was no longer there. I searched the rooms as much as I could before reporting the theft; I was worried I had misplaced it, but unfortunately, it was not the case." Her voice remained steady, though Neal could catch a current of distress beneath. His eyes traveled towards her wrist, and he caught sight of a small gold clasp on the bracelet, shaped as a rose. It was elegant, truly ladylike and fitting on her self.
"Do you love the rose?" He snapped out of the reverie, and looked up to see her soft, brown eyes resting upon his face. "It is the most regal of flowers, the representation of sheer beauty, and no one ever notices the thorns; no one sees the power behind the fragile eyes."
Neal felt a soft skip within his chest. "Its deception, isn't it?" He thought of Kate, the woman he loved, and the woman he didn't know if he could trust anymore. Death had taken her, and he had been ever so alone, but still, he could not be sure of her anymore.
"It is disguise; everyone wears a mask, Signore Caffrey." She caressed the bracelet with a butterfly touch of her forefinger. "Masks are what hold us from coming apart in this world."
"So, what is the name of this painting that was stolen?" Burke reverted the conversation back to its original intent, sensing Neal's thoughts drift to his recent past.
"It is…" she was quiet for a moment. "Its is not something much valued, but is it important to me, and the family." The woman looked towards her bracelet and said, in a lower voice, "It is a portrait of a rose, if you will excuse the term, for the rose seems as alive as any person; it is named Amore di inganno, roughly translating to Love of Decption. We believe that this is a work of Guilio Romano, the famous disciple of Raphael, though one did not believe until yesterday when its authenticity was confirmed. It is a beautiful piece of art, and most precious to me. It was meant to be displayed in the Uffizi gallery for a month before finding its rest in my home."
"And where did you acquire it from?" Neal asked, choosing to look at the arrangement of lilies on the table.
"One of our employees, kept for this very purpose informed us that a dealer name Leonardo Mitchell had the painting and was willing to make a sale. Since I have deep interest in it, I came personally to ensure that it is the real item, you see, many believe that Amore di inganno is just by some street person who chose to copy Master Raphael's technique. However, analysis using infrared reflectography, Wood's light, stereoscopic microscope and IR spectroscopy has been conducted. It is indeed Raphael."
"And who do you think might have taken it? Anyone you suspect?" Peter again.
"It is not usual for one of us to come personally to make a purchase. It may have been any number of collectors or dealers or even art enthusiasts. I am sorry; I cannot give you a specific name. It was my mistake, of course, to keep the painting in such an unsafe manner. I should have left right after the acquisition." She lowered her eyes, and both the men could genuinely feel the regret coming from this 26 year old creature that resembled a shining bronze statue.
"I assure you, Miss Rossetti, the FBI will do its utmost best to return the item to your possession. However, we need to ask you to stay in New York until we complete at least our preliminary investigation." Peter rose, it was time to leave.
"Of course. As you wish it to be, Detective Burke." She rose too, her movement as fluid as a nymph of myth. "I thank you once again, gentlemen."
Peter nodded and shook her hand again. "We'll be in touch, Miss." Neal simply nodded, to which she smiled. "Goodbye, Signore Caffrey."
Concetta, who had disappeared earlier, appeared once again, seemingly out of nowhere, to show the men out. As Peter opened the door, Neal turned to the Rossetti who now sat at the same place as he on the sofa. "Miss Rossetti, you say you like rose. So, why is the place filled with lilies?"
"Even the lesser need to be loved, Signore. There is no dearth of lovers of the rose. The ugly stepsisters of Cinderella had pearls and silk, but they found no happiness, for they were not loved for what they were."
Neal felt that skip in his chest again as his heart seemed to be approaching his throat. "I see…you're still lovelier than the lilies, Esmerelda." He suddenly bent slightly at his waist, bowing moderately, and left.
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So, I hope this is alright. I got some words translated on the internet. Like the name for the painting. Oh, and the entire story in fiction. I tried to put in some facts, like the name of the man who stole the Mona Lisa, Vincenzo. But the Rossetti family is completely fictional. I do not own White Collar or any White Collar characters. I'm just a huge fan. Please review and let me know what you thought of my attempt. Thank you ^.^