Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire
Chapter 403: Couples time after the chaos

Chapter 403: Couples time after the chaos

"Madam."

Ramsey, who had been waiting outside, exhaled sharply in relief the moment he saw Camilla walk in unharmed.

"Thank goodness you’re safe."

That bastard Antonio had been both cunning and cautious, leaving multiple layers of guards outside.

If not for the Boss stepping in personally, they might have been delayed even longer.

But thank heavens Madam was unharmed.

Otherwise... The thought had barely formed when Ramsey forcefully dismissed it.

Ugh. No "otherwise" about it.

Camilla looked at Ramsey with a smile.

"You’ve worked hard.

No one got hurt, right?"

She had seen just how tightly secured this place was when she arrived.

So she knew exactly how difficult it must have been to take out everyone outside without alerting Antonio.

"No injuries, thank you for your concern, Madam."

Listening to their back-and-forth pleasantries, Sinclair turned his gaze toward them, his dark, inscrutable eyes narrowing slightly.

Though his expression was cool and unreadable, the look alone made Ramsey stiffen, prompting him to immediately straighten up and open the car door with renewed formality.

"Mr. Luther, Madam—"

Camilla’s lips curved in amusement, a flicker of helplessness in her eyes as she moved to step into the car.

"Stay still, sweetheart."

Sinclair’s long, powerful arm reached out, wrapping around Camilla’s waist and lifting her effortlessly into the car.

His grip was firm, unyielding—yet the way he held her was impossibly gentle.

The warmth of his body was a stark contrast against the crisp, chilly night air, impossible to ignore.

Camilla curled her lips into a sweet smile.

She let Sinclair settle her into the seat and fasten her seatbelt without protest.

Ramsey kept his eyes firmly downcast, not daring to glance up as he silently closed the car door behind them.

The moment the car began to move, Sinclair’s phone buzzed.

Sinclair pressed the answer button and raised it to his ear, his deep, obsidian eyes locking onto the woman across from him.

Camilla met his gaze calmly, her lips still curved in that faint, knowing smile.

She studied him—his expression, the intensity in his eyes—and in turn, saw her own reflection staring back.

"Boss," came the voice on the other end of the line, "we’ve got eyes on us."

Not a flicker of surprise crossed Sinclair’s strikingly handsome face.

"Leave them be," he replied, his voice low and edged with an unspoken chill.

"Understood."

Sinclair lowered the phone, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as they burned into Camilla.

"Aren’t you going to ask if I’m hurt?"

His tone was casual, yet there was an unmistakable hint of something else—something almost petulant—lurking beneath the words.

"My sweetheart is so amazing, I can’t imagine anyone being able to hurt you," Camilla leaned in closer, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons as she flashed an ingratiating smile.

"Besides, I’m a doctor.

I’m hypersensitive to the scent of blood.

The moment I get near you, I’ll know if you were injured."

"Oh?"

Sinclair arched an eyebrow.

"Then why didn’t you notice Ramsey’s?"

Camilla didn’t answer. Instead, she unbuckled her seatbelt and rose from her seat.

Sinclair narrowed his eyes.

Without hesitation, Camilla climbed onto his lap, cupped his face in her hands, and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

Her sparkling eyes curved with mischief.

"This skill of mine only works on my husband.

Everyone else gets no reaction."

Sinclair said nothing, but the faint upward tilt of his lips betrayed his delight.

What was this feeling?

When the wife knows how to sweet-talk, the husband’s soul starts to float!

The dim interior of the car wrapped them in an increasingly warm and intimate atmosphere.

"Sweetheart—"

Camilla looked up at Sinclair as she spoke.

"Hmm?"

Sinclair’s hand at her waist moved in slow, absent circles, his dark eyes swirling with unreadable intensity.

It was as if he was waiting—waiting for her to say something.

Or perhaps, to do something.

"Where’s Fanny now?

How badly is she hurt?"

Sinclair’s gaze faltered for a split second: "..." When he didn’t respond immediately, Camilla’s lashes fluttered, her face paling with worry.

"What?

Is it serious?

What did Antonio make them do to her?!"

Sinclair pressed his lips together, watching as his wife’s expression grew more distressed.

In the end, he couldn’t bear it.

"It’s not serious. You’ll see her soon."

"Thank goodness, thank goodness..."

Camilla knew Sweetheart would never lie to her.

Finally, she exhaled deeply, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.

"Camilla," Sinclair tightened his arms around her, his voice low and deliberate.

"Shouldn’t you be paying a little more attention to me now?"

In the dim light, his striking features were as cool and flawless as jade, his usual aloof and restrained demeanor inexplicably tinged with a hint of grievance.

"I’ve always cared about you," Camilla leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his thin lips.

Sinclair’s lips curved into a faint smile.

No matter what he was feeling, Camilla could always soothe him effortlessly.

By now, he was used to it.

Camilla rarely took the lead, but a playful impulse took hold of her, and her crimson lips lingered, teasing.

Sinclair’s gaze burned into her.

"Being this bold, little one—do you really think I can’t do anything to you in the car?"

The fire in his eyes was unmistakable, and Camilla knew better than to push her luck.

"Of course not," she murmured.

"I just missed you, that’s all."

"Oh?"

Sinclair’s lips curved into a smirk, his unfathomable dark eyes swirling with unspoken intensity.

"Then show me, Camilla... just how much you’ve missed me."

His voice was a low, husky murmur, laden with implication.

Camilla’s breath hitched, suddenly feeling like she’d played with fire.

"Sweetheart, stop fooling around!"

They were still in the car, for heaven’s sake. Thankfully, the vehicle gradually rolled to a halt.

"President Luther, Madam, we’ve arrived at the hospital."

Praise the heavens.

Camilla swallowed hard under the scorching gaze of those obsidian eyes mere inches away.

"Darling, we’re here. Let’s go see Fanny." Sinclair’s lips quirked as he rose leisurely. "Very well."

His striking features smoothed back into their usual aristocratic composure, as if nothing had transpired.

Exhaling softly, Camilla adjusted her attire slightly before stepping out of the car first, ensuring everything was in place.

Sinclair followed closely behind.

Ramsey watched the two walking one after the other, raising an eyebrow with a faint glint of gossip in his eyes.

Did the boss and his wife have a fight? Ahem.

Of course, it wasn’t that he *wanted* his boss and his madam to be at odds—it was just that such a situation was rare.

As Ramsey indulged in his little mental speculation, Sinclair suddenly halted mid-step, as if sensing something, and turned his head slightly to glance back.

The moment Ramsey caught sight of those narrowed dark eyes, he immediately lowered his head, staring intently at the floor.

The flooring here is impeccable—not a single crack to be found.