Chapter 143: Does she always call you ’baby’?

Chapter 143: Does she always call you ’baby’? Sweetheart," Camilla wrapped her arms around Sinclair’s neck, her delicate face brimming with playful pride. "Am I amazing or what?" "Hmm," Sinclair responded coolly, though his deep voice carried a hint of indulgence. "My darling is, of course, incredible." "But Fany was great too. She just learned and already—" Before Camilla could finish, Sinclair pinned her against the wall, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. His mouth moved over hers with the force of a storm, stealing her breath and sending her pulse racing. Her knees buckled, and only the firm support of his strong arms kept her from collapsing. The kiss deepened, growing more possessive, more demanding. The world around Camilla blurred into nothingness—all she could sense was the intoxicating, slightly aggressive coolness of his cologne enveloping her. It felt like an eternity before he finally pulled away, leaving her dazed and breathless. "Sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and rough with restrained emotion, "you’ve been neglecting me all day." Sinclair’s long, narrow obsidian eyes were clouded with desire, his voice hoarse with barely restrained intensity. "How do you plan to make it up to me, hm?" So he was still hung up on what happened during dinner. Camilla’s beautiful eyes, misty with lingering exhaustion, flickered with resigned amusement as she softened her voice in explanation. "Sweetheart, Fanny and Carie Ann are our guests. It was only right that I paid them more attention." "You ungrateful little fox," he growled, his strong fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her close, sealing her lips with another bruising kiss. Kiss wasn’t quite the right word—it was more like a claiming. Slow at first, then rougher, deeper, leaving no doubt about his possessiveness. Later, he carried her to the bathroom. The next afternoon. Camilla’s long lashes fluttered before she slowly blinked awake. Across the room, the man sat poised on the sofa, his aristocratic features schooled in cool detachment as he worked on his laptop. Those same dark eyes were now sharp with focus, his elegant fingers tapping soundlessly against the desk. The more absorbed he became, the more striking his icy beauty grew—aloof, untouchable, and utterly mesmerizing. Camilla’s crimson lips curled into a subtle smile. Whose husband was this devastatingly handsome? Oh right—hers!! Though she hadn’t made a sound, Sinclair seemed to sense her gaze, lifting his eyes to meet hers. "Awake?" The icy sharpness in his gaze melted into warmth the moment it landed on her face. "Mmm," Her voice was husky with sleep, so languid it made him want to pull her into his arms. "Darling, what time is it?" Sinclair’s dark eyes held hers with unreadable intensity for a long moment before drifting casually to his wristwatch. "Three o’clock." His deep voice carried a hint of amusement. "Three?!" All drowsiness fled Camilla instantly. "Oh no—Fanny!!" With her entire body aching, she forced herself up from the bed, slipped on her shoes, and hurried toward the door. "She definitely won’t be comfortable staying here. I promised to take her to the arranged place by noon." Just as Camilla reached the sofa, the man reached out and pulled her entirely into his arms. "Camilla, the moment you open your eyes, all you think about is that woman. It really hurts my feelings." His deep voice carried an inscrutable tone. Sensing his displeasure, Camilla softened her voice immediately. "Once I send Fanny off, I’ll come back and keep you company, okay?" "And what if I say no? Would you still go?" Sinclair paused, his dark, unfathomable eyes fixed on his delicate wife nestled in his arms. Camilla wrapped her arms around him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, her voice tender. "Sweetheart is the best. You’d never say that, right?" Sinclair wanted to argue, but under the gaze of those clear, bright eyes, the words died in his throat. He was utterly done for. Just then— "Buzz, buzz, buzz—" "Buzz—" The phone on the bedside table vibrated insistently. "Sweetheart," Camilla turned to Sinclair, her voice soft as silk. "Carry me over." If he wouldn’t let her leave, the least he could do was humor her, right? The corners of Sinclair’s lips quirked upward, his tone dripping with affection. "Of course." In one smooth motion, he scooped his petite wife into his arms and deposited her gently onto the bed before dutifully retrieving her phone. Camilla tilted her head curiously. "Who is it?" "Tiffany," Sinclair arched an eyebrow, his tone indifferent. "The first person you think of is the moment you open your eyes." Jealous much?! But Fanny is a girl, a girl!! Camilla silently grumbled to herself. Worried that Tiffany might be anxious, she quickly pushed aside her thoughts and answered the call. "Fanny, sorry, I—" "Camilla, I’m already here!" Tiffany’s cheerful voice rang through the phone. "This place doesn’t feel like a hospital at all—more like a vacation estate. I love it!" She planted an exaggerated kiss on the other end of the line. "Thank you, Camilla baby! You’re the absolute best!!" Baby? Sinclair arched an eyebrow slightly, gazing at Camilla with an amused half-smile. "Already here?!" Confusion flickered across Camilla’s stunning face as she instinctively looked up at Sinclair. Only when she saw the utter lack of surprise in the man’s expression did she realize—sweetheart must have arranged everything while she was asleep. A quiet relief settled in her chest. "You like it? That’s good. I’ll come see you in a couple of days," Camilla said softly, her voice warm. "And once your leg is fully healed, we’ll have that card rematch!" "Deal," Tiffany replied, though she sounded reluctant to end the call. She had just discovered her newfound love for the game and was itching to play more. As for Arlo... She deliberately forced the thought of him away, refusing to let her mind linger. "Absolutely!" After exchanging a few more lighthearted words, they finally hung up. "She always calls you ’baby’?" Sinclair leaned down, his intense gaze fixed on Camilla. "Hmm?" "Just occasionally, very occasionally!" Camilla was long accustomed to her husband’s possessive nature and knew the best approach was to humor him. "Really." Only then did the tension in Sinclair’s brow gradually ease. "Hmm." Propping herself up, Camilla leaned closer until their faces were mere inches apart, her eyes crinkling with warmth. "Sweetheart, thank you." "Hmm." Sinclair’s dark eyes narrowed slightly as his toned arms caged her in on either side. "Show me." Camilla understood exactly what he meant. She looped her arms around his neck, her soft lips trailing upward—first brushing his Adam’s apple, then his sculpted lips, the tip of his nose, and finally, lingering tenderly between his brows. Devoid of any sensual undertones, yet sweeter than anything imaginable. A deeper smile curved Sinclair’s lips, his entire demeanor radiating an unusual tenderness. "Are you hungry?" Initially preoccupied with thoughts of Tiffany, Camilla hadn’t noticed. But now that he asked, a gnawing hunger suddenly made itself known. She nodded obediently. "Starving." "What would you like to eat?" Gently, Sinclair tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "Crayfish noodles? Or maybe hand burger?" Camilla narrowed her eyes slightly, a playful glint in them. "Husband, you choose for me." She had always been indecisive over trivial matters. "Alright," Sinclair pressed a kiss to her forehead before rising and leaving the room. Camilla, meanwhile, headed to the bathroom to freshen up. Just as she stepped out of the shower, Sinclair walked in carrying a tray. The savory aroma of crayfish noddles mingled with the rich scent of hand burger filled with the air. "You made all this?" Camilla’s eyes lit up with delight, though surprise flickered through her voice. "Did you cook this yourself?" She had tasted his homemade noodles before, so the familiar fragrance was unmistakable. "Mhm." Sinclair set both bowls in front of her, his gaze tender and warm. If there was ever a choice too difficult to make, he’d give her both. Nothing was worth her distress. "Sweetheart, I love you." Camilla felt her heart swell with affection, even her breath turning sweet. Watching his delicate wife’s moved expression, Sinclair chuckled softly, the corner of his lips lifting. "If a bowl of noodles and hamburger can earn me an ’I love you,’ I’ll cook for you every day." "As long as you want to hear it, I’ll say it every day," Camilla spoke with a gentle smile in her voice. "However many times you want to hear it, I’ll say it. If you want to hear it forever, I’ll never stop." Sinclair’s expression deepened, his gaze unreadable. "Alright." The atmosphere was warm and intimate. After dinner, Camilla turned to Sinclair. "Sweetheart, didn’t you ask me yesterday when I’d be free to visit the Taylor family?" Her voice was soft and deliberate. "Let’s go today." She paused, her brows furrowing slightly. "Last night during the card, I noticed he was coughing much more frequently than before." Taylor and Calvin were Sinclair’s closest friends—some of the few people in this world who truly cared about him. That alone was reason enough for Camilla not to stand idly. Of course, there was another matter pressing her to visit the Taylor household. Sinclair studied her for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "Got it." An hour later. Sinclair and Camilla arrived at Taylor’s family estate. The moment the car came to a stop, a figure who had been waiting by the entrance hurried forward to greet them.