Espresso-x Novels & Stories

The next morning, the peace is shattered by a crime against humanity. I walk into the kitchen at six, already dressed for a meeting with the Commission. I need caffeine. I need the sharp, bitter bite of a perfect espresso to jumpstart my brain. I walk to the La Marzocco machine on the counter. A piece of Italian engineering that is worth every one of the many, many pennies it cost. I freeze. The settings are wrong. The grinder dial has been moved to coarse. The water temperature is set to 195 degrees, not 201.

"Great. So I can’t be late, but you get to take your time?" "Exactly." He tossed me a bottle of water from the counter, which I barely caught in time. "Hydrate. You’ll need it. Also, I think you should leave now, go get me my coffee and meet me at the training center by exactly four.” He stopped for a moment to look at the clock above me. “I need three espresso shots,” he said lazily, like this was just a casual order. “Two pumps of vanilla. Exactly 140-degree oat milk. Stirred, not shaken.” His lips curved. “Think you can handle that?”

Sebastian asked while driving. Xavier took his phone and checked the messages between himself and Lorenzo. "He asked to meet up at the coffee shop opposite St. Maria Catholic Church. Luckily, it's close by" Xavier said and Sebastian drove in that direction. They arrived at the coffee shop and Xavier was the one who went to meet Lorenzo. Lorenzo De'Luca wanted to invest in X&Y Corporation before the sales of the new product that was going to the sold in X&Y Corporation in a few weeks. They were having this meetup because he wanted to look at all that the product was going to be produced and wanted to estimate how much he'll be getting back after the sales.

What I told you, It's undecipherable. Our coffee come, mine was a caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream, Dex's was Mocca frappucino with cinnamon and hazelnut while Mark ordered a plain iced americano. It would be nice if we could just drink in silence but then, my wish isn't their command. So here is come, the bombardon of question. starting from Dex to Mark,

She snorted. Ann resisted the urge to cackle loudly as she shook her head despairingly and sipped on her espresso. “I don’t know how you can drink those, they’re so bitter,” Ann commented as she gestured to the tiny cup that Lexi held gracefully in her hands. “Because it’s as black as my soul.” She whispered conspiratorily with a sweet smile.

Iris's POV "And here is your coffee strong, just the way you like strong but sweetened by a bit of creamer," said Xander holding a brewing hot cup of my favorite coffee. Placing the coffee in front of me on the kitchen island, he started making his own. Rubbing my sleepy eyes a bit I took the cup in my hand, following a sip, and believe me he makes it the best way. Seems like perfection runs in his Russo blood. I wonder if there is anything he does imperfectly.

"Beef Stroganoff. Heavy on the sodium, light on the hope." "Thank you, Mr. Carter," Dad said, his voice thick. "And for the Boss," Ben rolled the cart to me. He didn't give me a plate. He handed me a large, black mug. "Double espresso. Columbian blend. I found a vacuum-sealed bag in the pilot’s stash. I figured you needed the caffeine more than the calories." I took the mug. The heat radiated into my right hand—my human hand. "Thanks, Ben," I murmured. "Put it on my tab."

Madeleine 𓎢𓎠𑄻𑄾𓎠𓎡 One Month Later. 𓎢𓎠𓎟𖦁‎𓎟𓎠𓎡 The espresso machine hissed at me like it had personal beef. I flinched, flicked the steam wand off with my elbow, and shoved the finished oat latte onto the counter with a smile so wide it felt physically glued to my face.

Professional. He seemed thrown for a second. His brow furrowed slightly, the prepared script of contempt disrupted. He was probably expecting me to cower, to look at the floor, to be the shrinking victim he was used to. “Uh. Three large coffees. Black,” he said, the words coming out a bit slower than usual. “Sure thing,” I said, turning to the grinders. I moved with an efficiency I didn’t usually feel when he was here. I measured the beans, pulled the shots, my movements smooth and confident. The warm, bitter scent of espresso filled the air around me.

The bell chimed soft, welcoming. Inside was warm, the air thick with the smell of fresh grounds and baked muffins. A few tables scattered around, mostly empty this time of day. The barista behind the counter a young guy with tattoos peeking from his sleeves wiped down the espresso machine, looked up with a nod. “What can I get you?” “Black coffee. Large. To go.” He poured it quick, steam rising from the cup as he snapped on the lid. Handed it over. “That’ll be $3.50.”