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“Jesus,” I muttered, reaching down to adjust my growing erection.

These days, it felt like a hard cock was a permanent fixture in my pants, a constant, throbbing reminder of my obsession with her. She was under my skin already, and I hadn’t even touched her yet.

I sighed and turned my eyes from the neatly arranged bed, my imagination racing with unending dreams of Laya. Striding down the corridor, I clenched my fists to suppress the storm of emotions swirling inside me, resolved to focus on the pending tasks in my quiet office.

I focused intently on my work for the next hour, stopping briefly to get a hot cup of rich, dark coffee before returning to my messy desk. The distribution deal papers lay scattered, demanding my full attention as they detailed the final steps of agreements with my cousins in Italy, when suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.

I barely glanced up before the door exploded open, and there they stood—my brothers, their faces twisted with rage.

“Hello, dear brothers,” I drawled, one eyebrow arched as I steeled myself for what was coming. “Did you forget to knock?”

Stefano let out an exasperated grunt, while Markos shrugged, both emanating an air of shameless entitlement.

“What a surprise to see you both,” I continued, injecting sarcasm into my tone. “I might have called it a pleasant surprise, but I know you’d see right through that, wouldn’t you?”

My irritation with their reckless arrogance pulsed under my skin. They moved in perfect sync, always defending and enabling each other in their worst moments, like the archetypal rich kids spoon-fed their entire lives, taking every luxury for granted.

Resentment bubbled beneath the surface, ignited by the bond I had formed with our father. He had pinned his hopes on Stefano and Markos embracing the family business, but they rejected the idea of hard work.

Instead, they pranced around Europe, chasing extravagant parties and spending money like it was water, never satisfied and always seeking more.

It drained me just contemplating their endless indulgence.

They were lucky that my father secured their inheritance; otherwise, I would have cut ties with them long ago. His foresight was exceptional. He barred them from claiming any interest in the family enterprise, insisting they should remain permanently excluded from its legacy since they refused to learn its complexities while he was alive.

This decision infuriated both of them, fueling their deep resentment stemming from their lack of genuine influence despite their vast wealth. Although their bank accounts held millions, it never felt like enough—a constant longing that would never be satisfied.

Watching them continue to vie for a position at a table they had never earned through effort or sacrifice was downright laughable.

Today, whatever minor grievance had upset them was clearly evident in the scowls on their faces.

“Is it true?” Stefano suddenly demanded, his eyes blazing with anger as he pointed a finger at me.

“And what rumor have you heard this time?” I replied, remaining unbothered by his childish display.

Years of dealing with their theatrics had shown me that silence was the most powerful response to their explosive outbursts; the less I stoked their flames, the less power their anger held.

“You plan to marry a Vitalis,” he sneered, the name bitter like poison on his tongue. I leaned back in my chair, crossed my arms over my chest, and asked, half-amused and half-exasperated, “Why do you care about my personal life?”

“Personal life!” Markos bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls. “It’s hardly personal, Nikolas! Did you forget that we’re discussing our family here? Our bloodline!”

“I promise you,” I said, “this won’t impact either of you, so spare me your theatrics. You’re acting like a couple of spoiled teenagers. Grow up.”

“Is it true, then?” Stefano was accused of acting like a schoolyard bully.

I merely shrugged with indifference.

The atmosphere grew tense until Markos, in annoyance, threw up his hands. “This is unbelievable!”

“If it were so unbelievable, you wouldn’t be standing here before me, would you?” I countered coolly.

“You blindsided us. This marriage affects the entire family legacy—ours included.” Stefano insisted.

“My marriage is none of your concern. I hardly need permission from either of you.” They were mistaken if they believed I would seek their approval before making any life-changing decision, especially concerning whom I would marry. I never trusted their advice, and I never would.

“Ever since our father died, you’ve claimed the title of godfather of the family!” Markos roared now, his anger seeping into every syllable as I fought the urge to cover my ears.

It was a familiar, tired argument we’d gone over countless times before, and I was not in the mood to debate who truly held the family’s reins.