The morning sun filtered through the mansion's floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden rays across the luxurious living room. Vincent sat in the center of the plush sectional sofa, his expensive casual wear—a silk black shirt and tailored slacks—making him look effortlessly elegant even in relaxation.
Helena curled against his left side like a contented cat, her hazelnut hair spilling over his shoulder as she traced lazy patterns on his chest. On his right, Olivia sat with proper posture despite the casual setting, her hands folded in her lap, still adjusting to this new dynamic between them.
"Sir, would you like me to prepare some coffee?" Olivia asked softly, starting to rise.
Vincent's hand gently caught her wrist, pulling her back down. "What did I tell you about calling me 'sir'?"
Olivia's cheeks flushed pink as she looked down at her hands. "I... Vincent," the name came out barely above a whisper, making her face burn with embarrassment.
