Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 528

The skin on the back of Sylvia’s hand stung from the heat, making her jerk away instinctively—but the man's grip only tightened, like he was trying to crush her fingers.

She frowned and tried to pull free, about to snap at him, when she caught sight of the bandage wrapped around the base of his thumb.

She hesitated, glancing up—and met Rupert’s pitch-black eyes dead-on.

The warm glow from the chandelier spilled across his face, but it didn’t soften his gaze, not even a little.

Sylvia stared straight at him. “Mr. Rupert, is there something else you want? If the Garcia family insists I take the rest of those nine lashes, I’ll go back right now. As long as it gets me away from them.”

“Do you have to talk to me like that?”

Rupert’s voice was cool, but there was something raw and unsteady beneath it.

Sylvia gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “Are we even close, Mr. Rupert?”

She looked away, cold and distant, determined to keep as much space between them as possible.

Rupert watched her retreat, and for a moment, his carefully controlled expression fractured. He forgot the promise he’d made to Lester, forgot the composure he always kept.

Anyone else could treat him like this—he didn’t care. But not her. With her, he just couldn’t take it.

As Sylvia tried to step back, his arm shot out and pulled her against him. Her waist was pinned tight, his face buried in her hair, breath hot against her ear. The sensation sent a shiver straight through her.

She turned her face away, refusing to meet his eyes.

Rupert pulled back just enough to see her face, his fingers brushing her chin, still tinged with the scent of cigarettes. His presence seemed to hang around her, inescapable no matter how hard she tried.

He leaned closer, eyes flickering as he squeezed her chin. “Your ears are turning red.”

Sylvia’s hands flew up to cover her ears before she could stop herself.

Rupert’s lips curled into a smirk—he’d said it just to tease her, and she’d fallen for it.

“Mr. Rupert, what exactly do you want from me? I’ve lost my memory. Please stop doing things that’ll give people the wrong idea.”

She shoved him away and scrambled back onto the bed.

Normally, trying to get away from Rupert was like trying to move a brick wall. But today, he'd let her go easily, even stumbling back a little himself.

Orson, hovering nearby, hurried over in alarm. “Mr. Rupert, your—”

Rupert’s face darkened. “It’s nothing. Just give it to her.”

“Ms. Lloyd, this is from the Garcia family’s chef.”

Sylvia’s attention snapped to the insulated container in Orson’s hands. She eyed it suspiciously. “What is it?”

Orson popped the lid, and the rich aroma of a steaming chicken pot pie wafted out.