Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 290

But you...

Before Rupert could finish, Sylvia fiercely resisted.

All her pent-up frustration and resentment exploded in that moment. She didn't care what he had to say.

She just wanted to get away from him.

"Uncle Rupert, you don't need to say anything to me. I don't care! I don't care about Warren, and I certainly don't care about you! I've had enough!"

She shouted, completely oblivious to the dangerous glint in Rupert's eyes.

Rupert's gaze darkened as he grabbed her chin, lifting it forcefully. "Don't care?"

Under his intense stare, Sylvia trembled slightly with fear, but she gritted her teeth and nodded with determination.

"Yes! I don't... mmph!"

The man didn't give her a second to think. Before she could finish, he captured her lips in a stormy kiss, his grip on her chin unyielding.

She tried to push him away, but he pinned her hands against the car window, the pressure growing tighter, and the cut on her palm began to throb with pain.

He did it on purpose.

He wanted her to hurt.

Sylvia groaned in pain, feeling the man's breath grow hotter against her skin.

He gazed down at her, his deep eyes threatening to devour her whole, intensifying the kiss and claiming her very breath.

Her mind whirled with dizziness. In a daze, she felt her jacket yanked away, and several buttons on her shirt were undone.

The chill of the air met the heat of his touch, sending shivers down her spine.

Inside the car, their breaths mingled, turning the air sticky and heavy, while the windows fogged up with moisture.

Suddenly, a hand wiped away the condensation, revealing their entwined silhouettes.

Meanwhile, on the road, two luxury cars halted at a red light.

Warren glanced to the side and was confronted with a scene that drove him mad.

At that moment, Rupert cast a brief glance outside the window, letting his gaze skim over Warren's furious face with indifference.

Then, he pressed Sylvia down into the back seat completely.

She tried to push him again, but her strength seemed drained, her voice soft and yielding, her body in his grasp turning to putty.

He leaned in closer to Sylvia, his voice cold. "Who?"

As he spoke, his hand slipped around her waist, tracing the smooth skin of her back, his fingers following the line of her spine upwards.

He stopped at the clasp of her clothing, his thumb gently caressing it with deliberate slowness.

Sylvia's body arched involuntarily, pressing her into his chest.

Rupert's body was hot and tense, the heat making Sylvia want to pull away.

But every step she retreated, he advanced, their bodies fitting together seamlessly.

She could feel the formidable presence of him.

"You... bastard!" Sylvia's voice hissed from between clenched teeth.

"Who?"

The man's voice was a gravelly repetition as his hands continued their exploration, showing no sign of stopping.