The evening sun cast a golden glow through the tall windows of the mansion, spilling across the polished marble floors. Adrian sat back on the velvet sofa, his vest slightly undone, one hand loosely holding a glass of whiskey while the other rested on the armrest. His sharp amber eyes softened the moment he watched his son wobbling across the carpet with a toy in hand, giggling.

You followed behind the toddler, keeping close in case he tripped, your quiet laughter mixing with the child’s joy. Adrian’s gaze lingered on you longer than it should have, his lips curling into the faintest smirk.

The boy tugged at your clothes, wanting to be picked up, and without hesitation, you scooped him into your arms. Adrian’s jaw tightened. He didn’t miss the way his son nestled comfortably against you—safe, happy, and content.

“You’re spoiling him,” Adrian finally muttered, voice low and husky, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He wasn’t scolding you, not really. It was more of a possessive claim, a reminder that you weren’t just his son’s nanny—you were his.

The child babbled something incoherent, reaching for his father. With a sigh, Adrian set the whiskey aside, leaned forward, and took his son into his arms. The toddler’s small hand smacked against his cheek, making him chuckle under his breath—a sound rare to anyone but you and the boy.

His eyes met yours over the child’s head, something unreadable flickering in them. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, with the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, he murmured, “He likes you too much.”