1. Dominic
Dominic
P resent Day
I’ve learned to live with the double, sometimes triple, helping of sarcasm that comes with brunching alongside Gabriel and Damien.
It’s the tax I pay for a little peace with my two oldest friends.
Only on Thursdays. Only during brunch. Always in my office at Minerva, the five-star crown jewel of the Monti empire.
I prefer having brunch delivered straight from my restaurant, no eyes, no ears, just the three of us behind closed doors. It’s the one thing that never changes.
I’m not a morning person; I’m more of a night owl.
I live in the clubs and hotels I run. And Thursday is the calm before the storm.
The one day I can almost count on carving out time for them, before the weekend chaos swallows me whole.
We have one golden rule: no work talk. Which, let’s be honest, kind of screws me over.
Everything about my job—events, clubs, people, the controlled chaos I live in—is labeled as “ entertainment .” So technically, they’re not breaking the rule.
They're ‘talking about the fun stuff I do’, which somehow doesn’t count as work in their eyes.
Their favorite topic? The women in my life. Obviously.
Gabriel just got serious with someone, surprisingly stable and annoyingly in love. Damien is officially anti-anything-that-looks-like-a-relationship.
And me? I’m the so-called “tabloid-loved playboy.” A label I don’t really deserve, but I haven’t exactly done much to shake it off, either. I have my reasons. And honestly, if someone doesn’t get that... well, that’s on them.
We started the whole Thursday brunch tradition about a year ago, right after the three of us traded in our uniforms and left the Navy behind.
Civilian life hit hard, each of us got pulled into our own mess, our own demons.
Thursday brunch became our anchor. A promise that, no matter how messy life got, we’d keep showing up for each other, and for ourselves.
Gabriel, Damien, and I met in the service, same Special Ops unit, and from there, the bond was inevitable. We didn’t grow up as brothers. We became brothers in the trenches, in the mud, under fire, in the silence between missions.
As for me and the Navy, well, I never planned to enlist. My life was already mapped out.
Heir to the Monti empire, a legacy built by my grandfather and polished by my father.
I was raised and trained to take over from the moment I hit college.
I was signing contracts, learning the ropes, building the charm they’d one day expect from a CEO. And I had a knack for it.
Then Axel enlisted. My kid brother, five years younger, full of big ideals—honor, purpose, action. Our mom was devastated. She begged me to go with him. Not to stop him, no one could stop Axel, but to watch his back. So I did.
That decision changed everything. I was thrown into a world of discipline, danger, and a kind of brotherhood I’d never known.
That’s where I met Gabriel and Damien. We didn’t share a hometown or a childhood, but in that Special Ops unit, we forged something deeper.
Eight years, side by side. We went through hell and back, and we became brothers.
Then I lost Axel. And that was my fault, no matter what anyone else says. He never came back home. I did. And nothing’s been the same since.
Staying in the Navy after Axel died felt like trying to breathe underwater.
So I left. I came home and tried to make sense of a life without him in it.
I buried myself in the family business, partly for comfort, partly for survival.
I needed something to hold onto. Something to drown out the silence.
Because grief, when it’s quiet, is the loudest thing in the room.
I also had my friends, and the spoiled, playboy life I built for myself. A carefully constructed layer of surface-level fun meant to cover up the massive hole and the guilt I carry with me every day.
Gabriel stayed in the Navy a bit longer than I did, though a leg injury eventually took him out. He doesn’t talk much about that time. Just that it was a brutal year of surgeries, recovery, and feeling useless on the sidelines.
Damien held out the longest. He left the Navy last year and jumped straight into the police force.
Classic Damien, jumping from one fire into the next.
It’s like he’s allergic to standing still.
While Gabriel built his private security empire, and I expanded the family business, Damien buried himself in the criminal underworld, working deep undercover.
When he finally came back, he wasn’t the same.
Quieter. Harder. Covered in new scars and cryptic tattoos that tell stories only he understands.
There’s something coiled inside him now, tight, electric, like he’s always bracing for the next hit.
Like he doesn’t know how to live without danger.
At some point, we started The Harbor Protectors .
It wasn’t some grand plan. It just… happened.
We’re not a secret society or anything. People who really need us find us.
We’d seen too many fall through the cracks.
Veterans who gave everything and got nothing back, families drowning in legal messes with no one on their side.
People crushed by a system that never gave them a shot.
So we stepped in. We help the ones who can’t help themselves.
No red tape. No waiting. Just action. It’s not always clean or simple, but this is what we do best.
Most of the people who work with us are vets, folks we served with, or picked up along the way.
Gabriel and I made sure they have steady jobs, good pay, and a reason to get up in the morning.
Damien’s part of it too, in his own way.
He’s not one for big speeches or dramatic gestures, but when he shows up, he’s all in.
Looking back, I think we managed to build something solid out of the wreckage of our lives.
We took the scars, the grief, the guilt, and somehow turned it into purpose.
It’s not perfect. Hell, sometimes it’s pure chaos.
But it’s real. And in this city, with my brothers by my side, each carrying their own battles and still showing up?
It finally feels like we didn’t just survive. We figured out a way to live.
And somehow, after everything we've been through, the war zones, the grief, the chaos, we still make time for this: brunch. Every Thursday. No matter what. It’s our reset button. Our version of normal.
We always start out the same—jokes flying, plates full, the mood relaxed. But today, brunch didn’t even make it past the second cup of coffee before Lena’s name came up.
Gabriel’s here, as always, right on time. Damien? Still MIA. Probably tied up with a case again... or ghosting his group chat, as usual.
And me? I’m trying to play it cool. Cup halfway to my lips, keeping it casual, until Gabriel drops it:
“Why does Lena hate you so much? Seriously, what did you do to her that you’re not telling us?”
I burst out laughing mid-sip. Perfect. Coffee all over my suit. Great start to the day .
Lena, the sharp, stubborn brunette, has become their favorite brunch punchline these past few months. Yeah, that Lena . The firecracker journalist I clashed with, hard, in my own club.
I never really told them the full story about that night. Life has a twisted sense of humor. And this one is just... surreal. Because guess what? The woman who pushed every one of my buttons turned out to be Lexi’s best friend. Lexi as in Gabriel’s girlfriend. The woman he’s actually serious about.
And just like that, Lena got pulled, completely unintentionally, into my tight, private inner circle.
Fate wasn’t done, either. We even wound up in a couple of high-risk situations together, back when Lexi needed Gabriel’s protection.
Now Gabriel and Lexi are a brand-new, blissed-out couple.
And Lena and I? We tolerate each other. The best friends of the lovers.
Just my kind of luck, I guess…
“Lena doesn’t hate me,” I tell Gabriel, dabbing at the coffee stain with a napkin. “She’s just secretly obsessed with me and stuck in the denial phase.”
“Bullshit,” he shoots back. “Even you don’t believe that. Maybe try actually being nice for once. Then we could go out as a group.”
“Ah, so it’s not about me, it’s about you. You just don’t want to be the sad third wheel when the girls start whispering and bonding. You need backup. A wingman for the relationship era.”
“Don’t be an idiot. I’m serious,” Gabriel says. “Lexi and I were talking last night about that music festival in the touristy part of the harbor. I suggested you come too, not just Lena, and she hit me with a hard no. Full eye-roll. That whole ‘what the hell are you thinking’ vibe.”
“Oh, give me a break, Gabe,” I scoff, blotting at the coffee stain again. “Lexi takes pity on you, turns you into a house-trained boyfriend, and now suddenly you’re Mr. Relationship ?”
I shoot him a grin. “You, the same guy who used to sneak out of hotel rooms before sunrise while your one-night stands were still dreaming on my guest suites’ pillows? What’s next? Marriage counseling?”
“If that’s what it takes to get through your thick skull,” Gabriel fires back.
“My skull’s just fine, thanks.” I lean back in my chair. “You need to understand something: the double date idea? It doesn’t work.” I raise an eyebrow, milking the drama. “You know why? Because there’s a missing piece in the equation. Let me explain.”
I keep my tone casual, like I’m laying out a business plan. “I like your girlfriend. Lexi,”
“Of course you do. She’s awesome,” Gabriel says, puffing up like a proud rooster.
“Lexi thinks I’m amazing,” I add, drawing out the word like I’m accepting a lifetime achievement award.