Elia's Pov
The canvas was blank. The easel stood in the center of my studio, waiting. I had been thinking about this new painting all day. About the new pose I wanted from her. I found her in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water. She was wearing one of my t-shirts, the hem barely covering her ass. She looked good there. Like she belonged.
"I need you in the studio," I said. My voice was flat. It wasn't a request.
She put the glass down and followed me without a word. She was learning. She was learning to just do as I said. I pointed to the low platform in the middle of the room, covered in a dark sheet.
"On there," I told her. "On your hands and knees."
She looked at the platform, then at me. A flicker of hesitation in her eyes. "What are you painting?"
"A new piece," I said. "Now
