I get back quite late, after dinner. I can’t wait to see Sofia. My eyes are sore from looking closely at the paintings, and I’m tired from moving them around all day.

I prefer painting more than organizing art shows. We need a few pieces for the gala, and it was time to make decisions. Sofia might make a real artist out of me yet.

It had been her idea to auction off some of my paintings.

I come into the kitchen and notice the roses.

Both Marco and Franco look up from the table.

“You’re late.” Franco cuts into some pasta and salad as I move towards the counter.

You would have to be blind not to notice the roses sitting there. It’s a massive bouquet of very fresh and perfectly curled buds. I want to go straight to the oven and pull out some lasagna for myself, but the look of those roses has me unsettled.

“Not as late as I thought you would be,” Marco puts in, closing his tablet with one hand and eating with the other.

“Where’s Sofia?” he asks, turning to me.

The bad feeling I had seeing the roses doubles up in my gut, and it won’t fit in there anymore. Now, there’s a tightness in my chest too.

“What do you mean, where’s Sofia? Isn’t she here?” I move over to the table as the others stare up at me in disbelief. From their looks and the casual dropping of forks, I think they’ve forgotten their food.

“She’s not here.”

Franco starts to get up. “I had to work late…that damn paperwork. I got it all done ready for the next stage…but, damn! Where is she?”

Marco wipes his mouth as he stands up. “I saw her. She was here when I got home.”

I can barely stop myself from grabbing him and shaking him.

Marco does control. It’s his thing.

It’s why Papa chose him to take over as head of the business. He thinks things through and doesn’t get emotional. It’s this chilly calm that allows him to speed Ferraris around the track at two hundred meters per hour or jump out of a plane.

Usually, in business, I admire the skill. At the moment, it’s just pissing me off.

“Yeah, can we not do the guessing thing right now?”

Franco is standing up and tapping his foot. He doesn’t deal well with stress.

Nor do I.

I can feel myself shaking inside. Something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong.

I want to crumple up and die. I let her down.

I wasn’t here. I fucked up. She needed me, and I fucked up.

Marco is clearly deconstructing the problem with his calm demeanor. Franco is getting jittery, which means he wants to hit something.

“We spoke. She was getting really dressed up. She was super excited too, and saying the weirdest shit…Like she couldn’t wait to see me later, and thanks for everything.”

“What?” Franco almost jumps out of his skin. “What did she mean by that? ‘Thanks for everything’ and goodbye?”

“It sounded like it,” Marco admits defeatedly.

I can’t speak. I walk over to the kitchen counter and lay my hands flat on it. I need to lean on it for support.

The roses are a fine display.

Big. Perfect. It really looks like something one of us would do.

Franco is starting to scream at Marco now.

“You let her go? You just fucked off to do some work, and you let her walk out of the fucking house?!”

“I told you—she seemed fine. I mean something was a bit off, but I thought she was meeting a friend…”

“You and your business. Always the business. The best fucking thing to ever happen to us just walks out of here and you let her!? Something was off, you say? Did you bother to ask?”

“Listen up!” Marco is getting angry now. “You know how badly we need everything to be prepared! This is a massive step! I can’t let all our hard work up to now be for nothing, you hear?”

“What about our hard work with Sofia huh? What about that? You couldn’t ask her what was wrong, find out where she was going?”

I gently touch one of the roses.

“Guys.”

My voice is soft, and they don’t hear me.

It’s like being in another dimension. I hear their raised voices, feel the violence coming off them in waves, but it’s like I’m locked in glass. Somewhere else.

“Guys.”

Again, too softly.

The rage comes out of me in a hot burning blaze. I turn around, the roses falling off my hand as I face my brothers. They smash on the floor, scattering in every direction.

“GUYS!” I roar at them, “Who bought her the fucking roses?”

Finally, they both look at me. They look at the floor, back at each other, and then me.

“I thought it was one of you,” Marco’s voice is soft and dangerous.

“I didn’t even think about it,” Franco looks shocked.

“So, it wasn’t one of us.”

My breathing is coming hard, but I’m thinking clearly now.

All I can think of is Sofia.

Her beautiful smile. Her warmth. Her passion.

I fucked up. I let her down.

I wasn’t here when she needed me. I’m going to fix all of that, though. I’m going to find her and prove to her that I’m a man worthy of a woman like her.

Marco and Franco are eyeing each other with a little suspicion. Franco gestures impatiently as he tries to reason it out.

“It could be anyone. We don’t know that much about her…Maybe she has admirers. Maybe she went to…see someone else.”

I hear his voice catch on that. Brave fellow, to consider his worst fear like that.

“But why have them delivered here,” I protest.

“We have to find her.” Marco looks determined now. “I want answers—now. If she’s fucking off with someone else or if she’s leaving, she can do us the courtesy of saying so. She’s been shacked up here with us for awhile now. I don’t like this…”

He clenches his fists, unable to finish the thought.

“Wait up, hold up.” Marco pulls out his phone. “I have this app that can track her, even if her phone’s out of reception. It just has to be on.”

“Let’s do it.”

Marco grabs his jacket as we head out the door.