“Sit,” he ordered quietly, gesturing toward the table he occupied earlier – the table with a single vase of red roses. I obeyed, lowering myself onto the couch, moving in. He followed, sitting very close to me. Then he turned his head slightly. “Barista boy,” he said, his tone smooth but laced with authority. “Make us two coffees.” Dom stiffened, opening his mouth to protest, but Ana’s warning glance stopped him. He swallowed his pride. “Y-yes, Señor Morales.” “Make them strong,” Santiago added. “She needs it.” Ana moved quickly to help Dom, though her eyes kept flickering to me — worried, protective. I heard Dom’s lowly complaint damning the name barista boy before the rest drowned under the hiss from the espresso machine. Within minutes, the aroma of freshly pulled espresso filled the air again. Ana carried the tray over herself, careful not to spill, and placed the cups in front of us. Santiago nodded, satisfied, and she stepped back, hovering nearby. Santiago took a sip from
Last Updated : 2025-08-29 Read more