Lady Francesca gently stroked Javier's hair as he leaned against her, his face buried in her breast. The soft warmth of her embrace made him sigh contentedly, inhaling deeply and reveling in the familiar scent of her.
"Just stay like this for a while, Mother," Javier mumbled, his voice muffled.
Lady Francesca chuckled, her fingers pausing for a moment. "No can do, my sweet boy. Your father is expecting me, and you know how he gets if I'm late."
Javier groaned, his arms tightening slightly. "Ugh… fine. Why does Father have to ruin everything?"
Francesca smiled down at him with a mix of affection and amusement. "Because he's your father, honey bun. And he also my husband."
Standing gracefully, she adjusted her gown and turned toward the door. "Liana?"
"Yes, Madam?"
"Take over from here," Francesca instructed, pointing toward her son with her lips, who was still sprawled lazily on the couch.