We’re gathered in the main office, sitting comfortably with coffee and trying to make sense of everything we’ve just learned. Sofia is asleep in her room.

We don’t know what to do with her yet.

“I think this is exactly what we’ve been afraid of all along.”

Marco sips his fancy coffee, leaning over the desk for emphasis.

“Papa always warned us about emotional attachments. Beautiful women who seem too good to be true. This could damage everything we’ve been working towards.”

“I have to agree,” Franco says painfully, his face twisted with grief. “Whatever she knows, I don’t think we can trust her. Okay, so she says she’s come clean now. But how do we even know that? She might be playing a game we don’t even know about. This might all be some kind of setup.”

“It’s easy to say these things,” I say very softly, “but you’re speaking as if this is some penny whore we’ve picked up off the street. It’s not. It’s Sofia.”

We all go quiet for a moment, staring into our coffee. I can’t tell what they’re thinking, but I can guess. My personal memory goes back to the art studio, of course.

No wonder I couldn’t paint the real Sofia.

I’ve never seen her.

“I don’t like the idea of just letting her go,” Franco speaks quietly. “Where would she go?”

I can’t tell if he cares or if he is just trying to figure out her loyalties.

“She won’t go back to the Senator, don’t be a fool.” I can feel myself getting angry.

“He just tried to kill her!”

“She’s a viper, Antonio,” Marco looks at me compassionately, like I’m a child. “She could just go back to anyplace that has been warm to her. With nowhere to go, she could run straight back to him.”

“What if she’s telling the truth?”

I can’t help it. I must speak my mind.

Quiet little Tony is going to have his say at the table for once.

“Did you see her tears? Did you feel her sorrow?”

Franco blinks and looks away. He can’t look at me as he speaks.

“She’s so very charismatic,” Franco whispers, “but that only works against her. It had us all chasing after her as if she was a siren. We didn’t see the danger.”

“You’re right, Franco,” Marco sips his coffee again.

I don’t think his fancy beans are giving him any comfort this morning.

“She’s hidden her true intentions well. But none of us can refute the fact that she has organized the gala almost singlehandedly. She has everything planned out to the littlest detail. She’s smart. She works fast. She’s a problem solver. She could be a tremendous asset to the business. I certainly couldn’t have done so good of a job, and I would have had to hire three people to do it.”

“She’s beautiful,” Franco whispers, looking out the window.

“She’s incredible,” I say.

I can’t keep the emotion out of my voice. I don’t really care what the others decide.

I’m not leaving her. If they decide to kick her out or have her killed—I’m going with her. I’ve never seen such pain as I saw in the corvette when she broke down.

I can’t live knowing she’s in so much pain—that I’ve caused her pain.

Franco sighs, tortured by his own memories.

“Look—we all have strong feelings for her. That’s obvious. But we’re trying to make a decision here for the business. For everything we’ve worked for. If we send her away, and we don’t trust her, it’s just leaving an open door for her to completely destroy everything.”

“Agreed.” Marco nods. “We can’t just let her walk away, or throw her out in fury. We don’t know how much she knows.”

“The issue is trust.”

I don’t look at either of them. I look over their heads somewhere.

I’m thinking about painting. Doing a new portrait of Sofia, the real Sofia.

Now I’ve seen her pain, I can paint it into her eyes.

The image will live with the full glamour of her soul.

“Do we trust her? Do we trust ourselves?”

I look at both my brothers now. I firmly imprint upon them with my gaze where my choice lies. I think they want to make the same choice, but they’re just angry. Upset about being lied to. Used. It’s a useless male dominance trait.

I have no use for it.

“Whatever we decide, we have to do it soon,” Marco says, checking his diary.

“Everything’s coming together soon. We can’t have any issues.”

I think about Sofia, and I think about her pain. I can’t believe my brothers aren’t thinking the same thing as me. Maybe they are, but they just can’t admit it.

“What about the Senator?”

Marco and Franco turn to me immediately.

“What about him?” Franco says. He has that look he gets when he’s about to fuck off and put five grand into a card game somewhere.

“He’s the one we have to get. He’s the real danger to us.”

“And he hurt Sofia,” Marco says quietly. “Really hurt her.”

“Yeah, he’s a scumbag, alright. Do we have a positive ID yet?”

“No,” I answer. “But as soon as Sofia wakes up, I’m going to talk to her.”

Marco reaches for one of Papa’s cigars.

He’s too fit to actually light it, but he twirls it in his fingers and smells it.

“Yes. We’ll get rid of that son of a bitch for sure. He’s the real danger. And then if we decide we can’t live with Sofia, at least she won’t be able to resume working for him.”

I nod slowly.

I only need a few details, and I can find this man.

I want this job. I don’t want to pass it to a hitman.

I want the satisfaction of finishing off Sofia’s torturer all to myself.