A man caught in the whirlpool of love has a heart smaller than the eye of a needle. Inside the private room, only Sinclair and Camilla remained.
"Sweetheart—"
"Hmm."
Sinclair responded indifferently, his gaze still fixed on the auction unfolding on the screen before him.
Camilla gazed at her husband with exasperated fondness shimmering in her beautiful eyes.
"Don't you smell something... overwhelmingly sour?"
Sour?
Sinclair didn't answer. Instead, he pulled her into his arms in one swift motion, his fingers threading gently through the cascade of her long hair spilling down her back.
Under the soft glow of the private room's lighting, Camilla's delicate features took on a rosy flush, her allure impossible to ignore.
"Overwhelming?"
His lips curved into a faint smirk, those dark, fathomless eyes holding nothing but her reflection.
"There's something even more overwhelming."
