It seems fucking ridiculous to me, but I’ve been all over the house, and there’s not a sign of Sofia. Have we always had this many rooms, or have they multiplied over the last few weeks? I don’t think I even knew we had thirty-nine guest rooms, a second kitchen, and a meditation room.

Well, I think it’s a meditation room. If not, I’m not entirely certain what it is, except that it contains beanbag-type seating, state of the art sound system, and strange-looking lights. I don’t even know why we have this room.

The prowl through the mansion has left me feeling like a total fucking stranger in my own house. It’s almost as if I need a GPS to navigate my own fucking crib.

In my defense, this was really our father’s mansion. We only decided to move in here relatively recently.

Okay, I’m totally fucking lost now, and I’m starting to regret the decision.

Franco took her out this morning. It’s now after two in the afternoon. Surely, she must be back by now?

Is she hiding? Maybe I should check in her room one last time.

Slowly, I trace my steps back and find myself outside her room. I knock on her door.

“Sofia?” I call and listen.

There’s no answer. Gently, I go for a second and louder knock. Still nothing.

With a sigh, I turn my back and go back down the stairs.

If I can’t find her, I’ll have to entertain myself another way.

Disappointment threatens to take a hold. I’ve been busting to see her again since yesterday. The morning I spent with her was some of the best hours of my fucking life.

It’s amazing how quickly she’s managed to get under my skin. My thoughts drift to her every second of the day. Work has definitely taken a backseat in my life, and all I want to do is spend time with what can only be described as the woman of my dreams.

Before she came into my life, I didn’t have an idea what the fuck the woman of my dreams actually looked like, but now I know.

She looks like Sofia.

At the bottom of the stairs, I hesitate.

As far as I’m concerned, I’ve got two options: I can go into the kitchen and get some coffee, take it into my studio on the third floor, and draw a random painting; or I go into the study and go over some of the figures Marco asked me to look at.

Although option number two is my least preferred option, my feet seem to drag me to the study, away from the kitchen. I really have my heart set on painting Sofia.

I won’t be able to do her justice, but I want to at least give it a go.

She’s just so fucking perfect. Those high cheekbones, exquisite red lips and her chocolate eyes spell perfection.

Just thinking about her has all my nerve cells tingling in anticipation.

If she were around now, she’d have to watch herself. It seems I just can’t fucking get enough of her.

My brothers seem as taken by her as I am. We haven’t talked about what we’re going to do with Sofia long term. Offering her the job as our own private escort or sex kitten seemed a band-aid measure for all of us.

Sofia was looking for a job, and we liked the idea of a live-in escort we can use whenever we want. I guess none of us thought she’d last more than a day.

Whenever we’ve shared a woman in the past, she’s not been able to keep up. It can be hard work satisfying the Monatello brothers.

When I get to the study, I’m surprised to find it open. Were Marco or Franco home?

As soon as I stride in, I see her. My heart beats a little faster. She’s sitting in one of the tall, red leather office chairs by the window.

Her dark hair is skillfully piled on top of her head, with a few loose strands in strategic positions. The light catches her eyes and accentuates them against her rather pale skin.

I’ve never noticed before how pale her skin is. And are those dark rings under her eyes?

As I study her a little closer, it occurs to me that her look is a little melancholic, as if something’s troubling her. Had something happened with Franco this morning?

If it has, he didn’t tell me. I make a mental note to ask him later today.

So as to not startle her, I clear my throat and come in.

Slowly, she turns toward me.

Whatever she was reading, she puts back on the desk.

Briefly, I wonder if there are any papers there not meant for the eyes of a stranger, but I dismiss the thought. We’ve got nothing to hide anymore. Gone are the days when the Monatello family kept two books, two sets of records, and a bucket load of cash in a safe.

Whatever she’s been reading would’ve been as boring as watching the grass grow.

Why she’s here and reading through our papers is beyond me, but I’m not going to question her about it. Maybe she was simply bored, and this is the first room she came inside.

“Hey,” I say once I’m halfway in the room.

She nods. “Hey.”

Her voice isn’t as vibrant and lively as I’ve heard it before.

“You okay?”

I notice the tiniest of hesitations. Then she nods.

“Fine,” she replies and leans back in her chair.

It tilts to forty-five degrees, and I forget what she asked as I catch a glimpse of the gap between her legs.

“God,” I croak after a while and shake my head.

Silence.

It seems as if the silence stretches on forever.

Eventually, I move forward and a little to the side.

“I just wanted to ask you something,” I start and put my hands in my pockets. It’s something I do when I’m a little nervous.

“Sure,” she shrugs, and her face has a nonchalant look about it.

“Will you let me paint you?”

There, I’ve said it.

For a while, her eyes are just staring at me. They’re looking right into my soul.

“Why?”

Her counter-question catches me off guard.

“Because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. And I want to see if I can capture some of your beauty on canvass.”

I know it sounds corny, but it comes from the heart.

“I don’t know.”

Uncertainty oozes from her.

“Please?” It’s the only thing I know to add.

Mixed emotions cross her face.

“I guess, if you think so,” she replies eventually, and I just want to run over to her and kiss her.

“You ready now?”