It’s a brilliant job I have: beautiful destinations, wealthy women, and eggs cooked the ampezzana way. Our trays are delivered, steaming with boiled potatoes, red onion, olive oil and Tyrolean bacon topped with perfect fried eggs. I cut Sugar’s breakfast for her, and feed her as one would a small child. I discreetly run my fingers the length of a rasher of bacon, letting the hot grease slick my fingertips. The next time I caress her hands, her considerable rings slide right off. I have a practiced hand. Red beryl and tanzanite are cool and heavy in my pocket. She reaches for her coupe as I continue to compliment her beauty, not even noticing her jewels are gone.