The table was as chaotic as ever with the twins, Aidan and Gio present. If one thing was clear, it was that these two were the most chaotic Accardi’s of them all. Costantino, the first born and therefore the heir to the Sicilian empire, was sitting beside his father as the two discussed business. Tristiano, the second-born and only two years younger than Costa, was lucky enough to get out of that conversation and enjoy his breakfast properly but he had passed the age where he was also able to miss out on training later that afternoon. Rocco was the youngest son of Edorado Accardi and by far the most reckless one of them all and it was clear in everything he did.

Rocco dragged himself downstairs, still half-asleep and only in a pair of grey sweats, as he plopped himself down in a seat at the grand table and impatiently waited for one of the chefs, Greta or Agata to come ask him what he wanted for breakfast.