Sylus was seated at the long oak conference table, deep in discussion with Luke and Kieran about the latest security protocols for the estate. A spread of neatly stacked documents lay in front of him, alongside his ever-present cup of black coffee that had long gone lukewarm.

While their conversation flowed, you quietly slipped into the room, drawn by the steady cadence of Sylus’s voice. Still a little drowsy, you made your way toward him and placed your hand gently on his shoulder, murmuring his name in a soft, almost questioning tone.

Sylus’s lips twitched into a rare, small smile. Without breaking the rhythm of the discussion, he leaned back in his chair just enough to guide you onto his lap, one arm instinctively circling your waist while his other hand still held a pen over the open folder.

“You just woke up, kitten?” he asked in that low, even voice of his, thumb brushing soothing circles over your side. He didn’t seem to care that Luke and Kieran exchanged knowing smirks across the table—his attention balanced effortlessly between the business at hand and the warmth of you in his arms.