Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 331

The sensations inside her felt like she was strapped into a roller coaster—one of those wild ones that launches you up into the clouds, only to drop you back down again, leaving you weightless as a marshmallow floating in the air.

Sylvia knew her brain was coming up with the weirdest metaphors, but that’s just where her mind went.

Pleasant, but also seriously freaky.

Mark stared at her for a moment, his eyes lingering. “Excited, huh? Feels good, doesn’t it? You’re even more my type than in your pictures.”

Pictures?

Type?

What was he getting at?

Sylvia barely had time to process before Mark unzipped a bag he’d stashed in the corner of the private lounge.

When she saw what was inside, cold terror rushed through her. She started to struggle, every muscle tensed.

Mark just grinned, moving closer with whatever he’d pulled from the bag.

…

Private Lounge.

The welcome dinner for Rupert was hosted by Tristan’s cousin—Charles—who also ran the local mining operation.

According to family tradition, Rupert was supposed to address him and his brother as Uncle Charles and Uncle Steven.

So when Rupert and Bridget walked in, the two men and their families didn’t even bother to stand. Honestly, their youngest sons were old enough to be Rupert’s father.

Out here, far from the bustling city, this wasn’t London or New York. Rupert wasn’t the one calling the shots.

“You made it,” Uncle Charles drawled, nodding at Rupert and the woman with him, then gestured to the seats at the far end of the table. “Take a seat.”

Bridget glanced at the spot, frowning. In a formal dinner, seating arrangements meant everything. No matter what, Rupert and she were the guests of honor tonight—how could they be shunted to the end?

“Mr. Rupert…” she started, her voice quietly indignant.

“Let’s just sit,” Rupert replied evenly, gently steering her to the assigned seats.

“How much money are we talking?” Rupert asked, his voice calm.

Charles, more reserved, didn’t comment, but his silence was agreement enough.

Between the two, Charles was the one to watch out for.

Rupert’s face stayed placid, impossible to read.

Just then, the door to the lounge swung open.

Orson leaned in to whisper to Rupert, “Sir, there’s a situation next door…”

A shadow flickered across Rupert’s eyes, cold and sharp, like storm clouds gathering before a downpour. For a split second, something dark and dangerous glinted in his gaze.

He stood. “Excuse me a moment.”