**Eleanor's POV**
I didn’t expect to see my son like that.
The moment I opened the door, my breath caught…not out of shock, but in irritation. There he was, a perfectly composed, self-contained son, with a woman draped half across his chest like she belonged there. His arm was still around her waist, like he’d caught
her when she fell. The sight stopped me cold.
My son, Lucian Backwood.
The one who hates mess.
And now, this.
The file on the desk had fallen open, papers scattered on the floor.
For a second, neither of them moved. The girl’s hair brushed his collar, her lips parted slightly in horror. She then moved backward, murmuring something under her breath as if that would make the scene disappear.
Lucian straightened immediately he saw me, his face was blank.
“Mother,” Luc
