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“Do you really like it?” he asks again.
My insides are screamingYes! Of course, I do. Who wouldn’t, you idiot, but I only shrug a single shoulder. “It’s all right,” I say, averting my eyes.
Bren chuckles, seeing straight through me. “It takes a lot to impress you, doesn’t it, Sofia?”
“No,” I say. “Not really.”
Someone clears their throat, and Bren looks past me. I turn around to find a woman who looks to be in her mid-forties wearing a maid’s uniform. I smile at her. “Hello,” I say.
“Hi,” she says, keeping her eyes glued to the floor. “My name is Carmen. I clean for you. I cook—anything you want. You tell me. Okay?”
I approach her, ducking my head a little, hoping to meet the short woman’s eyes, but she won’t look up at me. Her English carries a heavy accent, but she isn’t hard to understand. And I’m surprised. Carmen reminds me a little of my mom, making me feel homesick for her. “Carmen,” I say and switch to Spanish. “Do you speak Spanish?”
Her face snaps up to meet mine with surprise, and her eyes sparkle. “Yes!” she nearly yells, and I laugh, glad she’s looking me in the eye now.
“You speak Spanish?” she asks, this time in Spanish.
I nod. “I’m Mexican,” I tell her, and she looks at me with skepticism, pulling another laugh out of me.
I lean in, taking her upper arms in my hands, and give her a customary kiss of greeting on the cheek. “It’s nice to meet you, Carmen. I’m Sofia,” I say as I pull away.
Carmen looks stunned, and she brings her hand to her cheek where I kissed her, her eyes a bit glassy. “You too,Chinita,” she says and smiles at me. I laugh at the nickname my nana uses for me too.
I turn back to introduce Bren, who is watching our interaction quizzically. I purse my lips. Then I remember what a snob he was to me when he assumed I was a waitress and throw him a look that says,Well? What are you waiting for, you idiot?He is so high and mighty on that horse of his, he can’t even stoop to the level of greeting his staff.
Realizing his blunder, he steps forward and shakes Carmen’s hand. “I’m Bren. Nice to meet you,” he says. Carmen smiles at him and switches back to English for Bren. “You too, Bren. I leave you. I be in the kitchen if you need anything. Okay?”
“Thanks, Carmen,” I say.
I want to stay in my happy bubble, so I don’t call out Bren now about how rude he was to Carmen when he didn’t acknowledge her presence until he was prompted. But we both know there will be a reckoning for that. Brenner Reindhart has a lot of introspective work to do if he wants to be in my life. That behavior just won’t do.
Instead of working myself up into anger, I refocus my attention on our self-led tour of the villa.
The living room is all drama with high ceilings, an impressive, distressed chandelier, and a view of the sweeping valley beyond the glass French doors that looks like a painting. I’d love to come back in the winter and sit by the marble fireplace, all cozy with Bren wrapped around me like a blanket—preferably naked.
Though grand in scale, every room is light and airy. The main floor is complete with an informal breakfast nook, a formal dining room, an expansive kitchen, a library that makes me drool, and all of it has a cozy charm to it. We take a peek at the wine cellar, but Bren doesn’t let me in. “Later,” he says. “I know you’ll get lost for hours in there.” I giggle because I know he’s right. Maybe I can strike a deal with the vineyard to supplyLa Oficinaif the wine is good. But I force myself to stop thinking about work, at least for today.
We ascend a white stone staircase with a black wrought-iron railing to the second floor.
When we get to the main bedroom, I stare wide-eyed at the four-poster plush bed with silk linens and a down comforter. My legs twitch, eager to jump on it and giggle like a little girl.
Instead, I run my hand over the exquisite fabric. I doubt my hands have ever touched something so expensive, and I pull them back with that thought.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t take you to a luxury spa. There are some amazing ones, but I thought at least for this first trip, we would want some privacy.”
“This is perfect,” I say, looking up at him. “But how much privacy can we really have with Andreas around?” It’s not a complaint, even if it sounds like it, but I find myself wondering more and more about Bren’s everyday life.
“My lifestyle isn’t for everyone, Sofia. I understand if it’s too much for you to handle.” He takes my hand in his and rubs the back of it with his thumb. “But I’d like for you to try.”
I lie down on the bed, running my arms over the comforter’s buttery fabric. This bed is as unreal as I imagined it would be when I first saw it. My pleasure doesn’t last because now I am frowning. We have been lucky so far. News media hasn’t yet picked up on the story that Bren is seeing someone. So far, we only see each other in private, and apart from this trip, we haven’t gone anywhere together.
We flew on a private jet to get here, and when we arrived in California, Andreas drove us in a private car. Bren isn’t letting anyone see us for a reason. I wonder how things will change when it gets out about us. I know Bren is shielding me from it, but I want to know how bad it can get before deciding to take this any further. The press has yet to take a whiff of me, and I’m sure I haven’t seen anything yet, but that’s a worry for another day. I’m determined to enjoy this weekend.
Almost as if Bren can read my mind, he kneels on the bed above me and leans in to suck on my earlobe. Then he whispers, “I know I’m asking a lot of you, Sofia. But I also know I can make any trouble worth your while.” His erection presses against my hip bone, and I writhe under the hard feel of it.
“You’re not playing fair.” I pant, throwing his words back at him.
“Never have,” he says and sits back to unbuckle his belt.
