Page 16 of Nobody's Girl

For the third time that day, Ivo was shocked. Well, shocked isn’t exactly the right word, he thought. Staggered. Humbled. Enrapt. Sofia’s sketches were astonishing – the depth of detail, especially in the portraits, was incredible, but more than just technically brilliant, they were the most insightful pieces he had seen in a long time. When he saw the as-yet-unfinished portrait of himself, his heart twisted. She had captured him entirely. The look in his eyes was exactly how he felt when he looked at her – there was something so affirming about someone, especially someone who he loved – seeing inside him so deeply, so truthfully. He felt his eyes pickle and he gave a short laugh. “Sofia…my god.”

“Do you like it?” Sofia was gazing at him, eyes wide with anxiety.

“Like? There’s not a word strong enough for how good these are.” He looked at her. “Why on Earth didn’t you tell me? Or Desi?”

Sofia took a deep breath. “I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage,” she said honestly. “You have both done so much for me already. I thought it would be crass to then say, ‘Oh, by the way, check out my amateur sketches.’ The portrait of you, it isn’t finished yet.” She gave a shy smile. “I’ve been working on it for weeks. Every night, I would come back here after work and think about you – like I had been all day anyhow – and just put all my feelings into bringing you to life on the paper. I’m not there yet, but it’s one of my own favorites.”

“It’s…. I’m honored, my darling, truly.” He looked through the rest of the book, taking his time over each of them. Sofia watched him, occasionally giving him some background. “You realize that you are exactly what Desi and I have been looking for? A raw, real, passionate talent. You’ve been painting white walls when we should have had you in the studio, working up these sketches onto canvas. What mediums do you work in?”

Sofia smiled shyly. “Watercolor, pencil, sometimes mixed media. I’ve done a few things with pen and ink. Pastels I love when I’m doing abstracts, thick chunky bands of bright colors.”

Ivo nodded. “And your influences?”

“I love Rothko, Kahlo, O’ Keefe. Hopper is a god of mine. I love his solitude. There are few contemporary artists too – a lot of them I’ve come across by accident – Kate Leplage, Simeon Verdeux, Patricia Seavers? Heard of any of them?”

“All of them, it’s my job,” he laughed and she flushed, grinning.

“Sorry, of course.”

Ivo turned a page and stopped. “Wow.” It was a pencil and watercolor she had done of the front of Desiree’s gallery – the building’s frontage still half finished, with scaffolding but Sofia had managed to infuse the artwork with all the bustle and vibrancy of its owner, and the promise of what it could be when it opened. Ivo knew immediately what he had to do.

He kissed Sofia and then rolled off the bed. “Beautiful, get dressed. We have to see someone.”

Sofia blinked, but nodded, scooching to the side of the bed and retrieving her clothes. “Okay. Where are we going?”

Ivo tapped his nose, grinning. “You’ll see, but go with it and I’ll buy you a vat of fries afterward.”

“And a vat of condoms.”

He laughed. “That would be a hell yes.”

Desiree’s eyebrows shot up when she saw them come into the gallery, hand-in-hand and giggling. “What are you two up to? Mischief, I can tell.”

Sofia slushed scarlet, and Ivo looked guilty. “Nothing. Hey, Desiree, remember we were talking about the invites to the opening?” He handed her Sofia’s sketchbook, opened at the painting of the gallery.

Desiree took it from him. “Ivo,” she said, finally, “Where on Earth did you fi…”

She looked up and glared at Sofia. “Is this you? You’ve been hiding this all along? You little minx, I could kill you.”

Ivo fell about laughing as Sofia rushed to explain herself, while Desiree glowered at them both. When she’d calmed down, she bore them both off to a wine bar down the block and ordered champagne.

“I agree, this image needs to be on the invite. You,” she pointed at Sofia, who looked a little stunned, “You have a month. I want three canvases. The alcove space? It’s yours.”

Sofia looked panicked. “Wait…no, no, come on, I’m nowhere near good enough. You’re exhibiting actual Masters for crissakes.”

Desiree looked at Ivo. “Is she finished?” She asked dryly and Ivo grinned and leaning over, kissed Sofia full on the mouth.

“Baby, I believe in you. Desi believes in you. Looks like you got your first commission.”

Sofia gaped at them as her lover and her boss toasted her with the champagne. “I think I feel sick.”

Neither of them let her off the hook.

Sofia felt stars explode in her vision, the sensation of Ivo’s cock reaming her into submission as he thrust deep inside her. “God, yes, yes, Ivo…” Her thighs were tight around his waist, her hands pinned above her head by his. Ivo’s lips were rough on hers, kissing her fiercely….and then he stopped.