I grudgingly huff and march myself to Keefe's house.

House? More like mansion.

It looks around 5 stories high and a gigantic fountain in the front lawn.

My first thought is Wow. He actually lives here?!

Lucky.

I knock on the front door, and a woman with pigtails dyed pink steps out of nowhere and eyes me suspiciously. 

"Oh!" She smiles. "You're the Moonlark!" She leans in closer. "Between you and me, I think you and Lord Hunkyhair would be a good match."

I blush. 

"I'm Ro, Lord Hunkyhair's bodyguard. And yes, he does make me call him 'Lord Hunkyhair'. Apparently it's one of the requirements to work for him." She rolls her eyes. I laugh a little bit.

Ro opens the door for me, and wow everything's so shiny and sparkley.

Ro winces. "You get used to all the sparkles and glitter, Blondie."

I tilt my head. "Blondie?"

Ro shrugs. She leads me to an elevator and tells me to press the button for the 4th floor.

"3 rights, 2 lefts, 2nd door on your right." She tells me helpfully before the elevator doors close.

My head is swimming with the directions. 

Once I arrive on the 4th floor, I try to recall Ro's instructions. 

3 rights, 2 lefts, 2nd door on your right.

I stumble through the hallways, my head dizzy.

I accidentally trip on a loose floorboard and I brace for impact.

But it never comes.

A pair of strong hands prevent me from falling.

Keefe's.

I look up into his ice blue eyes.

He winks at me. "Miss me, Moonlark?"

I push him away from me, but he doesn't move.

I groan in pain from my headache and Keefe picks me up and carries me bridal-style.

Ugh, I've never been so humiliated.

But... as much as it pains me to admit it, it feels kinda nice.

Keefe gently sets me down on a bed.

His bed.

"What hurts?" He asks, his ice blue eyes filled with worry.

"My head." I goran.

"Stay," He commands me. "Let me get some medicine for that headache."

He slips out of the room and I survey my surroundings.

Everything's messy, not at all like the rest of the house, which is polished to the bone.

On his desk are a couple of hyper-realistic drawings.

Of me.

I gasp a little.

Every curve and edge of my face is exactly right, maybe even more so.

It looks so real, like a photograph.

Keefe comes back. 

"You drew these?" I ask.

He blushes, but nods.

"Whoa." I say.

He hands me a few pills and I swallow them.

Instantly, my headache feel sooo much better.

"Thanks." I say.

"'Course." 

There's a long pause.

"You know." I say, breaking the silence. "You could be an artist."

Keefe laughs, cold and bitter. "My dad would not like that."

I stare at him in surprise. "What about your mom?"

He looks away. "They divorced, and my mom eloped with this jerk and now they're living in Canada."

"Oh." I say, deflated. "Well, why won't your dad let you do art?"

"He's... obsessed with everything being perfect. He expects me to become a mini him and become a kajillionare someday. An artist ain't gonna cut it."

I stare at him.

There's another pause.

"Well... let's get started, shall we?"