Sylvia cursed Rupert in her heart, calling him shameless. Yet, when she noticed the bloodstains on his palm, she hesitated for a split second.
In those brief moments of distraction, the man before her seized the opportunity to lean into her.
Instinctively, she reached out to steady him, catching a strong whiff of whiskey.
"Rupert, are you out of your mind? You’re hurt and you’ve been drinking?"
"Yeah. Wasn’t feeling too great, needed a little pick-me-up," he murmured, his chin resting heavily on her forehead, voice low and tinged with weariness.
Sylvia felt the heat radiating from his forehead and hesitated, but her sense of reason overpowered any sympathy. She pushed gently against his chest. "Rupert, you’ve had too much. Let me call Orson to take you home."
"He’s gone."
"Then I’ll call Bridget. She’ll take good care of you."
She didn’t look at him as she stepped back, putting some space between them.
Rupert leaned against the doorframe, gazing down at her with an unreadable expression. "Aren’t you considerate."
Sylvia caught the sarcasm, biting her lip. "Thanks for the compliment. I’ll make the call."
She pulled out her phone, but before she could dial, Rupert snatched it from her hand and tossed it onto the entryway console. It landed with a thud on the lower shelf, knocking over a box.
Their eyes were drawn to it—a luxury boutique box meant for a dress.
Seeing the box reminded Sylvia of how she’d been duped by Warren. Things that don’t belong to you are never worth coveting.
She gestured to it. "Since you’re here, you might as well take the dress back. I don’t want it."
Sylvia thought this was the right thing to do. The dress was expensive, and she didn’t want to owe Rupert anything. But as soon as she spoke, Rupert’s imposing presence enveloped her, pushing her into the corner of the entryway.
His eyes darkened as he gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You’ll accept his gifts, but not mine? Has he eaten your brains?"
Rupert paused, brushing a thumb over the wetness at her eye, his brow furrowing. "Can’t say a word to you these days, can I?"
Sylvia’s breath hitched, a lump forming in her throat.
Of course, his patience and kindness were reserved for Bridget. Who was she to him?
"I don’t need your concern," Sylvia said stubbornly, turning her face away from his touch.
"Speak to me properly."
Rupert’s gaze was intense as he looked down at her.
Sylvia’s height was average, but her proportions were perfect, and her features exquisite. No matter what expression she wore, there was an inherent allure about her.
Especially from this angle, with her long lashes quivering and her lips slightly parted, she was irresistibly captivating.
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The readers' comments on the novel: Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)
hello, sorry if i ask a lot and request, but i want to know, can you upload stories other than goodnovel? from dreame and webnovel for example, can it be displayed on this website?...