Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 262: Punishing Sinclair Luther

"Lie down?"

Sinclair arched an eyebrow, his thin lips curling into a lazy smirk.

"Are you sure about that, sweetheart?"

His voice was low and husky, dripping with implication.

Camilla instantly caught his meaning, her already flushed face burning even hotter.

"Absolutely," she feigned annoyance, pressing her palms against his sculpted chest while her glistening eyes shot him a glare.

"Are you in or not?"

"I’m in," Sinclair replied, his voice rough with resignation, dark eyes flickering with sudden understanding.

"Of course I’m in."

Even if Camilla had laid a trap, he’d leap in without hesitation.

"Promise me one thing," Camilla added seriously, as if remembering something crucial.

"You don’t move without my permission."

Sinclair’s dark, intense gaze bore into Camilla as his long, elegant fingers traced slow circles around her slender waist.

"I promise."

"Good."

With trembling hands, Camilla pulled out two leather cuffs from beneath the sheets and, steeling herself, secured each of Sinclair’s wrists to the bedposts.

"Then... I’ll begin."

She tried to sound confident, but her voice wavered.

Luckily, the man was cooperative enough. Sinclair’s eyes darkened.

"Where did you get these?"

Camilla couldn’t meet his gaze, answering in a small, honest voice.

"Fany gave them to me... as a wedding gift."

And had the audacity to call it a "fertility encouragement kit."

Tiffany?

Sinclair narrowed his eyes.

For the first time, he thought this woman wasn’t so bad after all.

After tying up Sinclair, Camilla found herself at a loss for what to do next.

The air grew thick with silence.

"Baby," Sinclair murmured, his dark, unfathomable eyes fixed on her.

His voice was low and rough, carrying the weight of a final verdict.

"If you leave me hanging like this any longer, I might just take back control."

"Take back?"

Camilla’s beautiful eyes flickered with uncertainty.

"You won’t get the chance.

I’m not letting you go."

Did Camilla really think handcuffs were enough to hold him?

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Sinclair’s lips, but he said nothing. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

If this was meant to be a punishment, then it had to leave a lasting impression—something Sinclair would never forget.

Steadying her nerves, Camilla cupped Sinclair’s handsome face, his expression taut with restraint, and pressed her lips to his.

There was no finesse in her kiss, just raw emotion guiding her as she traced the shape of his mouth.

Sinclair’s breathing deepened.

"Camilla—"

"What’s wrong?"

Camilla gazed at Sinclair, her long, wavy hair cascading down to her waist casually tied up, her clear, beautiful eyes glistening with a hint of mist, delicate and enchanting.

"Does Sinclair not like it?"

Not like it?

He adored it beyond words.

"I do," Sinclair’s deep, inscrutable eyes remained fixed on Camilla as he spoke slowly, his voice low and husky, laced with restrained emotion.

"Whatever Camilla does, however she does it—I love it all."

Camilla’s cheeks flushed crimson, and she lowered her head, continuing her task in silence.

Suddenly, she paused, her eyes brimming with heartache as she took in Sinclair’s wound.

"Be good, it’s alright.

I controlled my strength when I did it," Sinclair kept his head bowed, watching her every move, his burning gaze softening into something tender, his voice rough yet coaxing.

"It’s just a minor injury, it’ll heal soon."

Camilla narrowed her beautiful eyes slightly, her soft voice laced with a hint of something deeper.

"How soon is it?"

She lifted her gaze, her shimmering eyes meeting his—dark and intense, tinged with suppressed emotion.

A sly smile curled at the corner of her lips.

"To punish you for hurting yourself, I’ve made a decision."

Sinclair pressed his lips together, waiting for her to continue.

"Only when the wound on your stomach fully heals... will I let you have your way."

Wait until his injury heals to get what he wants?

So this was her plan all along.

A faint smirk tugged at Sinclair’s lips as beads of sweat glistened on his strikingly handsome face.

"Darling, are you trying to kill me?"

"It’s you who’s trying to kill me," Camilla murmured softly, her slender, pale fingers tracing the scar on Sinclair’s abdomen.

"When you’re away, my greatest fear is you getting hurt.

Yet you treat your own body with such disregard."

She lifted her gaze to meet his, her voice still gentle but laced with unwavering resolve.

"That’s why I have to punish you.

We’ll sleep separately for now—to keep your wound from reopening."

Not only was he denied what he desired, but they also had to sleep apart?

Sinclair’s dark eyes narrowed as he stared helplessly at Camilla, an unfamiliar sense of self-inflicted frustration rising in his chest.

"Camilla—"

Before he could protest, her soft lips pressed against his, silencing him.

"It’s settled," she whispered against his mouth, a playful challenge in her tone.

"After all, you said it yourself—it’ll heal soon, won’t it?"

She carefully tucked Sinclair in, loosening the leather restraints around his wrists to avoid chafing before quietly leaving the room.

"Sweet dreams, darling. Sleep tight." Without hesitation, she shut the door behind her—

*Bang!*

The sharp sound drew curious glances from the night staff.

Their eyes widened when they saw Camilla heading toward the guest room.

"Did Mrs. Luther have a fight with Mr. Sinclair?"

"Impossible!

Mr. Sinclair personally cooked dinner for her tonight—they were practically glowing."

"Then why would she sleep in the guest room at this hour?"

"Good point.

This is the first time I’ve seen them apart. Wonder what happened?"

"Knowing Mrs. Luther, she’s far too gentle to pick a fight.

Must be the boss’s fault."

"If that’s the case, he’s gone too far.

Tomorrow, we’ll quietly report this to Uncle Carlos.

Grandpa won’t let this slide."

"Don’t worry, we won’t forget."

... Little did Camilla know, in the blink of an eye, she had unwittingly transformed from the orchestrator into the victim.

Meanwhile.

The moment Camilla left, the room plunged into silence.

Sinclair’s deep, obsidian eyes darkened further, eventually settling into a wry, resigned amusement.

Of course.

He shouldn’t have held onto the naive hope that Camilla had forgotten.

But this punishment was a bit too cruel, wasn’t it?

*Click.*

*Click.*

With a slight flex of his long, elegant fingers, Sinclair effortlessly snapped the restraints around his wrists. Clearly.

The handcuffs Camilla had believed impossible to break free from were nothing more than a flimsy illusion to him.

The only reason he had been restrained at all was because he had allowed it.

Sinclair rose to his feet and pulled out his phone.

"Deliver an identical pair by seven tomorrow morning."

"W-what?!

Leather cuffs?!"

Ramsey stared at the image in the message, so shocked he nearly tumbled off the bed.

Is this the kind of information he should be getting for free?

Boss Luther really doesn’t treat him like an outsider at all!

Just then, another message popped up.

"Go get it yourself."

He—a perpetually single guy with zero dating experience—was being sent to buy *that* kind of thing?!

Ramsey’s lips twitched in silent outrage.

He couldn’t take this job for one more second.

But the next moment, he resigned himself to his fate.

For a salary this was astronomical—one that was practically impossible to find elsewhere— He’d grit his teeth and endure.

Again.

Sinclair picked up the discarded towel and strode back into the bathroom, sinking into the tub filled with icy water.

Time blurred as he waited, until finally, the uncontrollable heat coursing through his veins gradually subsided.

Wrapped in a dark robe, he stepped outside Camilla’s room and stood there, motionless.

The sound of running water and soft footsteps from within brought an uncharacteristic gentleness to his eyes.

Only when the lights inside finally dimmed did he turn and walk away.

For Sinclair, this night stretched on endlessly.