"Really?"
Sinclair gently stroked Camilla's hair, his dark eyes unfathomably deep.
Camilla couldn't tell whether he believed her or not, so she tightened her arms slightly around his waist.
"It seems saving Carie Ann back then wasn't just a coincidence—it was meant to be," she said, tilting her head up to gaze at him with crescent-moon eyes.
"Sweetheart, fate has been kind to us after all, hasn't it?"
Kind? Indeed.
Sinclair looked into those beautiful eyes—eyes that held only him—and his expression softened.
"Mmm," he murmured, bending down to press a kiss to her forehead.
His lips parted slightly as he whispered,
"Every time I see you, I feel the same way."
Or, to be more precise— Only when he saw her did he feel as though fate had, for once, smiled upon him.
Sinclair's words sent waves of overwhelming affection coursing through Camilla's veins, converging into a molten warmth that softened her heart completely.
"Sweetheart—"
