"Layla, is the meat ready? Grilled to perfection?" Fiona asked as she approached with a curious glance, the faint aroma of roasted spices drawing her in.
"Yes, it's done," Layla replied, her voice calm and assured. She carefully transferred the sizzling, golden-brown cuts of meat onto a platter, the juices glistening under the soft evening light.
Nearby, Lucius stepped back, his presence momentarily retreating to give the ladies space to converse, though his sharp gaze fixed on Layla.
"Lucius, take a seat. There's no need to hover," Fiona said, her tone light but insistent as she gestured toward the dining table.
With a low hum of acknowledgment, Lucius moved to the chair beside his father and settled down, his movements deliberate and composed.