PENTHOUSE 521

four | new customers

New faces weren't a common sight in Ibiza. Sure, tourists often visit the island for a getaway. Students from around the world arrived in flocks during their spring break. Families from every corner of the globe came during the winter and summer seasons. Sometimes wealthy businessmen settled for a few months before going back to the busy hustle and bustle of corporate life.

Yet, they never lingered longer for more than a few months. And even so, it was easy to distinguish tourists from Ibiza's residents. Any resident could pick apart the two by how they carried themselves and even their clothing at times.

But all of that can change with the chime of a bell.

I'd been polishing the glass display window of the pastry's cabinet when three men walked in. They were all dressed in fitted trench coats, most likely to protect against the chill of that Monday.

It was a cloudy day, overcast and windy. Unusual weather for the island. The type of weather accompanied by roaring winds that nipped at people's faces; in fact, that morning, a strong gust had almost blown me over on my way to work.

Wouldn't that have been quite the story to tell?

It wasn't avoidable, though. That morning I had to walk to work because Dorian had class Monday mornings, so she had to take her car. It wasn't like our place was miles away or in a different town on the island. Our condo wasn't far from the cafe, only a couple of blocks, but it would have been nice to enjoy the warmth of her Impala.

Since it was a chilly day, it meant the cafe was packed more tightly too. There were customers seated at every booth and table. Some were regulars, while there were a few new faces peppered throughout the crowd. Whether they were new or not, they would be returning, though. El Secreto was the best cafe in all of Ibiza.

The blond man in the middle of the trio was tall, but the other two men towered over him in comparison. They were giants that must've at least been at least 6'6. They were rippling with muscles and wore matching buttoned-up black trench coats paired with dark gray slacks. From the looks of it, I wouldn't doubt it if someone told me that they could tear people apart with their large hands alone.

The one on his left side had black hair styled in an undercut. Despite his impressive (and daunting stature), he seemed cheerful. He bobbed his head to the beat of the pop song playing in the cafe background as the group approached the registers. While the one on the right side had short curly black hair and held a look of indifference. Total opposites.

Although they might have been twins or cousins because they both had grey eyes.

"Good morning," I greeted the men with a smile and turned on my heel to get behind the register to take their order. "Morning," the blond one replied, smiling softly.

"It's actually our first time here, but I've heard good things about this place." He nodded, surveying the cafe's atmosphere. He returned his attention to me.

The man in front of me was quite handsome. With honey brown eyes, suntanned skin, a jawline that could cut diamonds, crisp blond tousled waves that fell in front of his forehead, I wouldn't have been surprised to find out that he was a model. Or that the burly men at his sides were his bodyguards.

He wore a set of black-framed glasses that accentuated the amber in his eyes but didn't distract from the firm and symmetrical structure of his nose. His trench coat was beige and under that was a simple black turtleneck paired with black slacks and burgundy leather gloves.