Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 270: Sinclair took Camilla on a surprised vacation

"Coming down?"

Camilla immediately rose and walked to the window, peering down below.

A sleek black Rolls-Royce was parked at the entrance of the old mansion.

The rear window was fully lowered, revealing the sharply defined profile of a man.

Even from this distance, she could sense the innate nobility and elegance that only those of his stature possessed.

Sinclair, ever perceptive, caught Camilla’s gaze and turned his head toward her.

She stood there in a cream-colored house dress, her chestnut curls cascading down to her waist in effortless waves, exuding a lazy sort of beauty.

Bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, she seemed to glow, as if she were a scene straight out of a softly lit film—warm and enchanting.

Their eyes met across the space between them.

Camilla’s eyes curved into crescents, her delicate face breaking into a sweet, radiant smile.

"Right now?"

"Mmm."

Sinclair’s dark, narrow eyes remained fixed on her, the love in his gaze so intense it could set the world ablaze.

"Now."

The deep, magnetic voice was impossibly tender.

"Wait for me."

Camilla casually changed into a beige knitted fishtail dress set and hurried downstairs.

By the time she reached the parking area, Sinclair was already waiting outside the car.

The black custom-tailored suit accentuated his tall, commanding frame. His cool, detached expression softened the moment he caught sight of Camilla.

"Sweetheart—"

Her red lips curved into a smile as she immediately quickened her pace, breaking into a run toward him.

Just as she reached him, her foot nearly caught, sending her stumbling forward.

But a strong, slender arm steadied her, firmly supporting her waist.

Sinclair gently tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear, his voice warm.

"No need to run so fast."

No matter how long it took, he would always be here waiting for her.

"There is a need," Camilla wrapped her arms around the man’s lean, muscular waist, tilting her head up to gaze at him with a coquettish smile.

"Couldn’t wait to see you any longer."

No matter the distance, every time she met Sinclair, she practically ran into his arms.

Sinclair tightened his embrace around

Camilla, his dark eyes swirling like unfathomable whirlpools, threatening to devour her whole.

If only things could stay like this forever.

"Sinclair?"

Noticing his prolonged silence, Camilla glanced at him in confusion.

The corners of Sinclair’s thin lips lifted slightly as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, the coldness in his eyes melting away.

"Get in the car."

Calvin opened the passenger door and lifted her inside.

After fastening her seatbelt, he settled into the driver’s seat.

The car started smoothly, pulling away from the old estate.

The evening breeze drifted in through the slightly open window, carrying a soothing tranquility.

Resting her chin on her hand, Camilla admired the man beside her.

Sinclair’s well-defined fingers rested casually on the steering wheel, his gaze calm and steady, his chiseled profile striking and refined.

Even while driving, he exuded the commanding presence of someone in complete control.

They say men look their most attractive behind the wheel, but she never agreed with that.

Her sweetheart was handsome at all times.

"Camilla, don’t look at me like that," Sinclair murmured without turning his head, his thin lips parting slightly.

"I won’t be able to hold back."

His deep, husky voice carried an unreadable emotion.

"Hold back what?"

Camilla’s red lips curled into a teasing smirk. They were on the road—she doubted sweetheart could do anything reckless here. "Oh?"

Sinclair caught the fleeting mischief in her

eyes, his lips quirking into a knowing smile.

The car slowed to a stop by the roadside.

Before Camilla could react to the sudden sense of danger, he had already unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned in, his presence overwhelming as he captured her lips in a searing kiss.

"Sweetheart—"

Her half-formed protest was swallowed whole.

The sky darkened, and a cool evening breeze whispered through the air.

Yet inside the car, the temperature was rising. Sinclair’s lips moved against Camilla’s, savoring her sweetness with slow, deliberate intensity.

Camilla responded tenderly, her arms wrapped around his neck.

Her eager surrender only deepened the hunger in his darkened gaze.

His strong, sculpted arms tightened around her slender waist, lifting her effortlessly onto his lap.

"Ah!"

Startled by the sudden shift, Camilla instinctively clung to him, steadying herself.

"Sinclair, stop teasing—"

"Sweetheart," Sinclair tilted his head up, his obsidian eyes smoldering with barely restrained desire.

"I’m not teasing."

His voice, deep and rough like velvet-wrapped thunder, sent shivers down her spine.

Before she could retreat, his fingers tangled in her silken hair, cradling the back of her head as he claimed her lips again—this time with relentless possession.

The kiss deepened, slow and intoxicating, binding them in a breathless tangle of longing.

Time slipped away in the blink of an eye.

An hour later, the car pulled into the private airstrip of the Luther Family estate.

Without a word, Sinclair carried Camilla in his arms and boarded the waiting private jet.

Throughout the entire journey, Camilla hadn’t uttered a single question.

"Why aren’t you asking me, Camilla?"

Sinclair murmured, holding a piece of carefully prepared fruit to his beloved wife’s lips.

His voice was low, almost teasing.

"Aren’t you curious where I’m taking you?"

Camilla took the offered fruit, her lips brushing his fingertips before she leaned into him, her voice soft yet unwavering.

"As long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter where we go."

To the ends of the earth, through heaven or hell—anywhere would do. *

As long as she’s by my side... anywhere?*

A tremor passed through Sinclair’s dark, fathomless eyes, his heart melting into something unbearably tender.

T& G Club.

One of the most upscale entertainment venues in the capital, and a notorious money pit.

Most of its patrons were impeccably dressed, but beneath the glamorous surface lurked something far less savory.

"Marie," Tiffany frowned at her editor, her delicate, fair face etched with confusion.

"We’re here for serious business.

Why did we have to meet in a place like this?"

She and Camilla had occasionally visited music bars before, but a venue like this was entirely out of their comfort zone.

"The director specifically requested this place, and the company already agreed," said Marie, the editor in her thirties, shrugging helplessly. "I don’t have a say in it."

"I really don’t like this kind of place," Tiffany murmured, clinging to her editor’s arm with a soft, pleading tone.

"Can’t you go talk to them for me, Marie?"

"Fanny, it’s not that I don’t want to," Marie sighed.

Marie looked at Tiffany with utter helplessness.

"The director specifically requested to meet the author in person," she sighed, her voice gentle yet persuasive.

"We already turned down the last dinner invitation.

Refusing again would be downright disrespectful."

"But..." Tiffany pressed her lips together, clearly still reluctant.

"Please, don’t ’but’ me this time—I’m begging you," Marie pleaded, her face scrunched up in distress.

"You know how tough things have been for the company these past two years.

This book is our first real hit in ages.

If it gets adapted into a TV series, it’ll be a win for both you and the company."

She glanced at her incessantly buzzing phone, her plump face etched with anxiety.

"My phone’s about to explode from all the calls.

If I don’t get you there soon, Editor Jade will have my head on a platter—I swear!"

"...Fine," Tiffany relented, unable to harden her heart against her longtime editor.

She gave a reluctant nod.

"But I’m only staying to discuss the novel.

After that, I’m leaving."

After all, Marie and the company had given her the break she needed when no one else would.

"Okay, okay, okay,"

Marie nodded repeatedly while dragging Tiffany’an toward the elevators at a sprint.

For the first time, Tiffany’an—who was practically yanked off her feet—realized that her usually plump and sluggish editor possessed such explosive energy. freewёbnoνel.com

"Oh no, we’re too late!"

By the time they reached the elevator doors, both lifts had just begun ascending, stopping at every single floor.

The agonizingly slow pace made it impossible to guess when they’d return.

Meanwhile, the editor-in-chief’s relentless calls kept buzzing in, refusing to give up.

Marie shuddered but didn’t dare answer.

Instead, her eyes lit up as she tugged Tiffany’an toward another direction.

"There’s one more elevator over there—let’s take that!"

By the time they dashed to it, the doors were already closing, a sliver of gray flashing through the narrowing gap.