Valentina

Taking a break from my business online tutorial, I stare at the massive painting of father hanging on the corridor walls, suddenly noticing James' signature at the bottom. How did I miss it before? This isn't the first time I've seen the portrait.

"Your stylist is around ma'am," Matilda announces.

"I'll join you shortly." I sigh.

How do I explain to Nonna that I don't need a stylist or Mathilda to run my bath, or someone to style my pixie cut and that I crave a normal life without seeming ungrateful? A personal assistant? Sure, but not different housekeepers for every little thing.

I stroll to my room my hands in my robe pocket envisioning a successful day.

"Good morning ma'am. I'm Niphme Conti. Your personal stylist. From your Nonna."

"Call me Val, and thanks for handling my styling. I've heard you're recognized as the best in Italy, and also judging by those numerous awards."

"Well, those awards do speak for themselves, so I appreciate the acknowledgement. It's my pleasure to assist