By the time the first small problem reached Isabella, she was already sitting in the main room with one hand on her stomach, one hand holding a cup of warm fruit water, and the face of a woman who was trying very hard to enjoy one peaceful evening before fate came scratching at her door again like an ugly stray cat.
Kian was nearby reading through the day's reports with that cold, serious face of his, while Cyrus sat at Isabella's side peeling fruit with quiet care.
Zyran sprawled in a chair as though furniture had been invented solely to support his beauty, and Osiris stood by the window looking outside with the restless expression of someone who wanted to move even while doing absolutely nothing.
To be honest, the room had been rather nice for at least three breaths.
Then Luca came in.
He did not even have the decency to look guilty.
