Camilla cupped Sinclair’s face and gently pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips.
"Talent really does make hard work look insignificant, doesn’t it?"
"As long as you’re happy."
Sinclair’s eyes softened even further, though his hand never paused in feeding her.
Camilla obediently took each bite.
Perhaps it was because the cuisine suited her taste—or maybe it was simply the joy in her heart that made everything more delicious.
She ate quite a bit during this meal without feeling the slightest bit nauseous.
"Sinclair, I’m full now," Camilla stopped Sinclair’s hand and picked up another set of utensils with a playful smile.
"Now, it’s my turn to take care of you."
Sinclair shifted his posture, leaning back against the chair, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk that reached his dark, bottomless eyes.
"Then I’ll leave it to you, sweetheart."
When he wasn’t smiling, he exuded an air of cool detachment, but when he did, it was dazzling—enough to make Camilla’s heart skip a beat.
That face of his was truly a weapon.
Even seeing it every day, she still found herself breathless.
Come to think of it, aside from medicine, Camilla had never actually fed Sinclair anything before.
Now that she was doing it, her movements were clumsy at first.
But Sinclair was unusually patient, adjusting to her every motion.
Gradually, Camilla grew more adept.
Suddenly, she understood why Sinclair enjoyed feeding her so much.
"Come on, open wide," she coaxed softly.
"Absolutely delicious.
Here, try another bite of this—my husband made it himself. It’s amazing."
"Have another sip of the soup." ...
Under Camilla’s gentle coaxing, the atmosphere grew even warmer.
Just then, Ramsey’s voice suddenly cut through the air, accompanied by approaching footsteps.
"President Luther, Madam—"
Since the hotel restaurant had no door, he walked right in.
And what he saw was *this* scene.
Camilla froze mid-action the moment she noticed Ramsey entering.
Was there a Guinness record for being the world’s biggest third wheel?
Ramsey felt like he could apply for it right then and there!
Ramsey immediately lowered his head, coughing into his fist to mask his embarrassment.
Sinclair shot him a cool glance before guiding Camilla’s hand to finish the spoonful of soup she’d been holding.
Only then did he speak, his tone indifferent.
"Miss Melissa and Mr. Vincent have arrived," Ramsey reported in his usual tone, keeping his head slightly lowered.
"They’re waiting in the lobby downstairs."
Melissa was always so afraid of Sinclair—she wouldn’t have come here without a good reason.
Camilla set down what she was holding and turned to Sinclair, her crimson lips curving into a faint smile.
"Did you ask Melissa to come?"
"Mm," Sinclair replied, picking up a napkin from the table and gently dabbing the corner of her lips.
"I have some business to take care of this afternoon.
I thought she could accompany you while you pick out a gown."
"You don’t have to worry about me," Camilla said, her clear, bright eyes shimmering with amusement.
"I’m not a child who needs constant supervision."
Ramsey kept his head bowed, maintaining the perfect image of someone who heard nothing—though inwardly, he understood the situation all too well.
Having Miss Melissa accompany Madam to select evening gowns served a dual purpose—not only for the occasion itself, but also to ensure Madam’s safety.
Before Madam came into the picture, none of them had ever imagined President Luther could devote himself to someone so completely.
Or rather, it wasn’t just him—everyone had thought the same.
One could only say that life was unpredictable, and everything unfolded as fate intended.
Though when would fate finally turn its favor toward him?
Ever since President Luther got married, his father’s nagging about settling down had become more frequent than meals.
Camilla’s voice snapped Ramsey out of his thoughts.
Ramsey looked up to find both his boss and Madam staring at him, and his heart skipped a beat.
Damn, had he spaced out?
Camilla knew all too well how demanding the workload was for those working under her husband—especially lately.
Her brows furrowed slightly as she studied Ramsey, concern flickering in her gaze.
"Are you feeling unwell somewhere?"
Ramsey stole a glance at the man beside Camilla, whose expression remained icy and unreadable.
Seizing the opportunity, he swallowed hard and nodded.
That should keep Mr. Luther from blaming him.
Sinclair’s strikingly handsome face remained impassive, betraying no emotion whatsoever.
"You’ve been working hard lately," Camilla said, shifting slightly as if to slip out of his embrace.
"Let me take a look for you."
Yet the arm around her waist didn’t loosen in the slightest—a fact only Camilla noticed.
What’s Sinclair up to?
Ramsey’d forgotten that Madam was a doctor!
Ramsey’d only meant to tell a harmless little lie—why was fate punishing him ?
Ramsey fought back the urge to cry, steeling himself further.
"Madam, actually... it’s not that bad."
Camilla studied him for two seconds before realization dawned.
She masked the concern in her eyes and turned to Sinclair.
Did Sinclair already guess?
A faint, almost imperceptible curve tugged at the corner of Sinclair’s lips.
Either way, it was good that there were no health issues.
Camilla turned her gaze back to Ramsey, her lips curving into a gentle smile as she spoke in her usual warm tone.
"Since you’re feeling fine, could you please invite Melissa and the others up?"
The mistress truly is as kind as she is beautiful.
"Of course, of course.
Relieved, Ramsey hurried off without another word.
Once again, the dining room was left with just Camilla and Sinclair.
"Sweetheart, I’m going upstairs to change," Camilla leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
"If you have something to attend to, you can go ahead."
Sinclair still didn’t let her step down. Instead, he carried her in his arms as he rose and headed toward their room.
By the time Sinclair accompanied Camilla downstairs after she changed, Melissa was already seated in the living room.
Her posture was noticeably straighter and more proper than usual.
"Uncle Sinclair, Sister Camilla."
Camilla gazed at Melissa’s nervous demeanor, a faint smile playing on her exquisite features.
"Didn’t you say he came with you?"
"Vincent’s downstairs," Melissa replied, visibly relaxing as she looked at Camilla with a grin.
We’re picking out dresses—what’s a guy doing tagging along for that?"
She suddenly paused mid-sentence, then turned to Sinclair with an ingratiating, puppy-dog smile.
"Of course, Sinclair, you’re different."
Sinclair’s dark eyes lifted slightly, giving her a cool, indifferent glance.
"Keep Camilla company."
Melissa nodded eagerly.
"Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Sister Camilla."
Sinclair responded with a nonchalant hum, but his gaze softened noticeably when it settled on Camilla. "I’ll be back as soon as possible."