Zoe
Morning finds me bleary-eyed and exhausted, standing in the kitchen and staring at the coffee machine like it might hold all the answers. Or at least the ones to the mess that is my current life.
“It works better if you actually press the button,” comes Dane’s dry voice from behind me.
I jump, turning to find him leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He’s already dressed for the day in a crisp button-down and dark jeans, his pale eyes taking in my disheveled appearance with unnerving focus.
“I know how it works,” I mutter, turning back to the machine. “I’m just... contemplating.”
“The meaning of life via caffeine?”
A reluctant smile tugs at my lips. “Something like that.”
He moves into the kitchen, his steps silent despite his size. He reaches around me, his chest barely brushing my back, and presses a button on the machine. It hums to life, the rich scent of coffee filling the air.
“Thanks,” I say, stepping aside to give him space.
He shrugs, a barely perceptible lift of one shoulder. “Sleep okay?”
The question is casual, but there’s something in his tone that makes me look at him more closely. Does he know? Did he hear Rett outside my door last night?
“Fine,” I lie. “You?”
“Fine,” he echoes, and I’m almost certain he’s lying too.
The coffee machine finishes its cycle, and Dane reaches for a mug. Not just any mug. A sleek, black one with a simple geometric design. He fills it and hands it to me.
“That’s Rett’s favorite,” he says, his voice neutral. “The one no one else is allowed to touch.”
I stare at the mug in my hands. “Why are you giving it to me, then?”
His pale eyes meet mine, a hint of something I can’t quite read flickering in their depths. “Just an experiment.”
Before I can ask what kind of experiment, Diego enters the kitchen, already talking a mile a minute about the breakfast he’s planning. Dane steps back, giving me a final, inscrutable look before turning to help Diego retrieve ingredients from the fridge.
I retreat to the island, cradling the forbidden mug and wondering what game Dane is playing.
The kitchen fills quickly as the morning progresses. Tristan appears next, beads of water sitting on his hair from the shower as he scrolls through his phone with a focus that suggests he’s already working despite the early hour. He glances up, does a double-take at the mug in my hands, and his eyes widen comically.
“Is that—?” He points, looking genuinely shocked. “That’s Rett’s. He kills people for touching that.”
I take a sip, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Guess I’ll find out.”
Tristan’s mouth drops open, but before he can respond, the final member of our strange household appears in the doorway.
Rett looks... perfect. As always. His suit is impeccable, hishair styled, his expression composed. If I hadn’t felt that same, controlled mouth devouring me just hours ago, if I hadn’t heard his raw, triumphant roar as he came apart inside me, I would never believe he was the same man.
His eyes sweep the kitchen, taking in the scene with Diego at the stove, Dane leaning against the counter, Tristan frozen mid-gesture, before landing on me…and then on the mug in my hands.
The room goes silent. I can almost hear everyone holding their breath, waiting for his reaction. For a moment, I wonder if I’ve crossed some invisible line, breached some unspoken boundary.
But then his lips curve into a small, private smile. The kind that transforms his face, softening the hard lines into something almost boyish. “Morning,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Morning,” I reply, taking another sip from his mug, maintaining eye contact over the rim.
He moves to the coffee machine, grabbing a plain white mug that could belong to anyone, and fills it. Then he leans against the counter, his gaze never leaving mine as he drinks.
Tristan looks between us, his expression shifting from shock to suspicion to understanding. “Oh,” he says, drawing the word out. “I see how it is.”
