The cool air assaults my face as I stick my head right into our massive fridge.

Where is it?

I know somewhere in this vast cool space are coconut milk, raspberries, and my soaked chia seeds. Obviously, either Antonio or Franco has moved my food to the back to make room for their shit. I can see all kind of other crap but not my breakfast food.

With a sigh, I push various packets of sausage, cheese, and olives out of the way. How these guys live on this shit without suffering from heart failure is beyond me. I feel my arteries clog up just looking at it.

Finally, I find my stuff.

Time to make my super healthy, super powerful breakfast smoothie. Once all my ingredients are in the blender, I press the button and watch the different food groups swirl and whoosh around. As I watch the multiple ingredients mix together, I think back to last night.

Fuck.

That was one fucking amazing night.

Sofia. Her name melts on my tongue like chocolate.

Sofia.

Where did she come from? And more importantly where was she going?

After we all fucked her multiple times, we didn’t talk about her future at all.

People are really strange and interesting. How did a gorgeous jewel like Sofia end up in the escort business? She seemed brighter than she let on.

If you ask me, I think she’s some high power manageress. My guess would be a position of power, where even men quake in their boots. Not a ball breaker, but someone who knew how to put a man back in his place.

The way her lips had felt around my cock.

Mama mia.

Just thinking about it makes my love rod stir to life.

Sudden silence rouses me out of my reverie. My breakfast is waiting. I grab a tall glass and pour the thick, red-looking mixture into it.

This better be fucking good for me because it tastes like crap. To wash it down, I’ll need a good cup of coffee. At least my brothers don’t fiddle with the beast.

We each have the same machine in our offices. They’re called “the beast” since we think they’re like a temperamental woman.

Silver and shiny, it sits proudly in prime position in the kitchen. It’s always filled with the best coffee beans available. Sure, at some point in time, we argued over which were the best beans, but by now, we’re over it.

We’ve agreed on a brand.

And everyone knows to obey the golden rule. The golden rule is to make sure you leave the beast with coffee beans in it. If you leave it empty, there’s severe punishment.

A noise behind me interrupts my automatic movements. There’s no one.

Was I so keen to see her again I was imagining her presence? Maybe.

It’s been a long time I’ve felt this way about a woman.

What the fuck am I talking about?

I’ve got no feelings for her. I’m still on some kind of afterglow after last night. That’s all.

Obviously, I’ve waited too long to fuck a chick. If I’d been fucking more regularly, I bet I wouldn’t be so hung up on her. There were those chicks at the racetrack, but I was called away.

Mental note to self: Fuck more often.

The thick black liquid fills my silver cup, and I’m looking forward to drinking my espresso. I like it bold and strong. A little like my women.

Sofia—she was bold and strong. She’d been totally bold while fucking the three of us.

We don’t often share, but then again, it’s not unusual. If the women were up to it, we probably would do it more often. Usually, the women can’t handle all of us.

I close my eyes and savor the first sensation of my perfect cup of coffee. Taste buds dance with joy as the bold flavors assaults them. Bitter, with a hint of almond and sweet.

Yep. This is the life.

Like fast cars, a perfect cup of coffee goes a long way to making life pretty fucking perfect. On my second sip, I enter an entirely new world. I see amazing eyes and black hair, Sofia’s eyes and hair.

They are boring into me, undressing me, challenging me.

Boy. The flame ignites within me, and she’s not even in the room. Or is she?

I spin on my heels and thought I caught a glimpse of something or someone moving.

My imagination must be running away with me. With a sigh and dramatic hand gesture, I put the empty glass into the sink.

There’s the small matter of these names I’ve got to show my brothers.

I found them going through the system of the old man. Boy, there’s so much work in getting the shit together. Absent-mindedly, I shove the offending piece of paper out of the way.

I don’t want it to fucking ruin my coffee.

Now I’m sure I’ve heard a noise, and sure enough, I see her as I turn around.

An angel is standing in the doorway. It’s a dark-haired angel in a tight, black skirt and crop top. Not much is left to the imagination.

Her chest is heaving a little, as if she’s been running.

Our eyes meet, and my heart melts as I watch those delicious lips turn upward at the corner into a smile. It seems as if her smile starts around her lips and goes all the way to her eyes.

“Morning,” is all I manage to get out.

I’m rarely a man lost for words. Quite the opposite really. I’ve got an opinion on everything—I always know what to say.

“Morning,” she murmurs and takes a hesitant step into the inner sanctum of our mansion, the kitchen.

Everyone knows how important the kitchen is in Italian families. Truth be told, often Franco, Antonio, and I have our most important business meetings in here as we go about preparing a feast and then eating it.

“Breakfast?” I say.

I hold my breath as I wait for her response.