Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Chapter 44

With a click of the door lock, Sylvia didn't need to turn around to know who was approaching. The jar she was holding tumbled out of her grasp and rolled across the floor. It came to a stop at a pair of men's leather shoes.

Sylvia scrambled to pick it up, but a pair of hands slid around her waist from behind, cold and constricting like a serpent, tightening its grip.

Eventually, she was trapped in front of the kitchen counter, feeling the heat of breath cascading from the top of her head down to her ears, her own breaths turning erratic in response. His lips were at her ear, his voice low and teasing.

"Do you always enjoy being led around?"

His breath tickled Sylvia's ear, making her squirm. She wanted to escape, but any movement only brought a more intimidating presence from behind, forcefully pressing down on her.

The air around Sylvia seemed to encircle her, and through her blouse, she could feel how hot his chest was against her back.

Despite herself, her ears flushed red. The man behind her, observing her restrained and shy demeanor, had pupils as dense as the night, quietly watching her, his hand gently caressing her waist. Sylvia's body trembled, her voice low and struggling, "Uncle, this is the Garcia family's house!"

"So?"

what if someone sees?" Sylvia grabbed his

behind her stilled. Just when Sylvia thought he might release her, she was suddenly lifted and placed on

Now facing each other, Sylvia clenched her

of aloof danger, his eyes like cold stars in a winter night, his gaze always so merciless,

and...grievance. She had

at her, his suppressed voice low and magnetic, "Have you now shifted your target on Warren?" "Uncle, who I shift my target on is none of your business," Sylvia retorted, her pride not allowing her to back down. He was silent for a moment, and

"None of my business?"

"Yes...mmm."

off by his forceful kiss, his lips grinding against hers

air was filled with the scent of coffee, and the

her arms pinned on the counter, the spilled coffee from their struggle wetting their intertwined hands, damp and sticky. Just like the atmosphere around. Sylvia struggled to breathe, her efforts to fight back