Sinclair’s slender fingers cradled the back of Camilla’s head, his lips hovering just a breath away from hers.
His voice was low and rough, a blend of temptation and command, coaxing the response he desired from her.
The heat of his breath against the delicate skin behind her ear sent a shiver down her spine.
Camilla met his gaze, her beautiful eyes half-lidded as she drowned in the unspoken devotion swirling in his dark irises.
She understood exactly what Sinclair wanted—but the words were still caught in her throat.
Then, with a playful glint in her eyes, she glanced sideways and spotted the forgotten item Sinclair had casually set aside earlier. A mischievous spark flickered in the depths of her gaze.
"I know what sweetheart ate." Sinclair watched her intently, his obsidian eyes unwavering, waiting for her next words. Under the weight of his scorching stare, Camilla parted her rosy lips.
"Strawberries." An amused smirk tugged at the corner of Sinclair’s mouth, his dark eyes softening with adoration.
Before he could react, Camilla had already slipped free, bending down to pick up the fruit plate. She plucked one from the bunch and began peeling it with deft fingers.
"Did Fanny send these?"
She had always loved lychees.
In her past life, the manor was never without them.
At a glance, she recognized these as the premium strawberries sold exclusively at a high-end department store in the capital.
Priced at four digits per box, each individual fruit costs nearly a hundred.
In today’s terms, they were the "ultimate strawberries"—so sought after that most batches were reserved before they even hit the shelves.
For the average person, getting their hands on them was nearly impossible.
"Mmm, though to be precise—"
Sinclair’s lips curved slightly as his inscrutable dark eyes settled on Camilla, his tone deliberately casual. "—they’re from Calvin."
Though the revelation was abrupt, Camilla caught his meaning instantly.
Her red lips parted in surprise.
"Wait—so the ’friend’ Fanny mentioned who sent the Strawberries was actually Calvin?!"
Sinclair’s fingers traced the slender curve of his wife’s waist as he responded with a nonchalant hum.
A glimmer of understanding flashed in Camilla’s eyes, quickly replaced by confusion as she turned to Sinclair.
"Sweetheart, how did you know?"
"You think," Sinclair replied, his lips curling in that same faint, knowing smile as he held her gaze, "where else would he have gotten those strawberries?"
Only then did Camilla realize—the sole high-end department store in the capital that sold those notoriously rare "assassin lychees" was also owned by the Luther Family.
But by now, such revelations hardly surprised her anymore.
"Alright then," she murmured, holding out a freshly peeled lychee to Sinclair’s lips.
His dark eyes lingered on her as he obeyed, but when his warm lips closed around the fruit, they deliberately—or perhaps accidentally—grazed the tip of her equally delicate finger with a teasing nip.
A shiver raced from her fingertip straight to her chest, sending a flush blooming across her fair cheeks.
Sinclair’s obsidian eyes bore Camilla with an intensity that could only belong to a hunter who’d already locked onto his prey—unwavering and utterly certain of his conquest.
His striking features, softened by a faint smile, carried an irresistible allure.
"Not hot at all," Camilla murmured, her cheeks flushing as she swiftly plucked the strawberries pit from his lips, desperate to divert attention from that predatory gaze that seemed ready to devour her whole.
"What exactly," Sinclair’s lips curved, his dark eyes lingering on her mouth as his voice dropped to a rough whisper, "are you asking about?"
Before she could answer, his arm encircled her waist, his other hand cradling the back of her head as he claimed her lips in a searing kiss.
Only when she gasped for breath did he finally relent.
The smoldering heat in his gaze was unmistakable.
"Care for a taste, Camilla?"
Too breathless to protest, Camilla shot him a half-hearted glare through her glistening eyes before nestling against his chest with a nod.
Sinclair picked up another strawberry, peeling it with deliberate slowness before offering it to her.
Camilla parted her rosy lips slightly, leaning in to meet him.
But the moment their lips brushed, the snowy-white fruit flesh was pulled away.
She frowned, about to protest— When suddenly, Sinclair scooped her up effortlessly with one arm, lifting her from the couch, while his other hand grabbed the lychee as he strode toward the bed.
The abrupt weightlessness startled Camilla, but his broad shoulders steadied her instantly.
"Sweetheart, what are you doing?"
"Be good," Sinclair murmured, his voice deep and rough as he glanced down at her.
"Your husband’s just changing the venue to feed you."
Every time he got close to Camilla, he lost all control.
It was instinct—an overwhelming need to claim her.
Camilla knew resistance was futile.
Flushing, she buried her face against the crook of his neck.
Now she truly understood the saying: some die of thirst, others drown in excess.
And she? She was clearly in the latter category.
All thanks to her Sweetheart’s insatiable stamina and appetite—as if he’d never known satisfaction.
The red strawberry quickly burst open, its sweet juice flowing freely.
Just as the air between them reached its most combustible moment
Camilla’s phone, lying forgotten nearby, suddenly buzzed to life with the sound of a Whatsapp call.
Their movements froze.
Sinclair’s dark, fathomless eyes narrowed dangerously as they landed on the caller ID flashing on the screen: *Senior Mega*.
Camilla gazed up at him with glistening, questioning eyes, her gaze laden with unspoken longing.
Sinclair studied his wife—her beauty now as bewitching as a siren—and the corner of his lips curled into an inscrutable smirk.
"Camilla," he rasped, his voice rough with restraint as he handed her the phone.
"Answer it." The command in his tone left no room for refusal.
Camilla glanced at the screen and shook her head.
"Either you answer it," Sinclair’s dark eyes bore into Camilla with unbridled intensity, his words deliberate and slow, "or I will."
Camilla knew Sinclair all too well.
She knew that once he made up his mind, he would follow through.
Better to just take the call herself and get rid of Antonio quickly.
"Fine, I’ll answer it.
Sinclair didn’t respond.
Biting her lower lip, Camilla pressed the answer button.
A clear, pleasant male voice came through the phone.
Sinclair’s gaze turned icy, yet the heat of his palm against her skin was almost scalding.
Her body tensed, but she kept her voice steady.
Antonio hadn’t expected such a cold response.
The smile on his lips faltered for a moment before quickly returning.
After years apart, a little distance was only natural.
With practiced warmth, he explained the reason for his call.