Chapter 304
Sylvia was practically trapped, perched awkwardly on Rupert's lap. His hand splayed over the bare skin her cropped top couldn't cover, calloused fingers rubbing in slow, deliberate circles, leaving a flush behind.
"Wearing so little? Not worried about catching cold?" he teased, voice low.
She sucked in a breath, tried to twist away. "None of your business. Let me go." Her anger simmered, still raw from how he'd thrown her under the bus earlier- almost letting her get into real trouble, just to prove a point.
Rupert just smirked, catching her fist before she could pull free. He pried her fingers open, thumb brushing over the crescent-shaped nail marks in her palm. "If I don't keep an eye on you, you'll end up leaving your mark on me next."
She glared at him, her voice trembling. "So, Uncle Rupert, is this your idea of fun? Humiliate me again? What's next-have me flirt with your clients like some cheap hostess?"
All that pent-up frustration finally boiled over. She yanked her hand away, not even feeling the sting.
Rupert's gaze softened for a split second, something cold and stormy flickering behind his eyes before it vanished.
"Humiliate you? If that was my goal, I doubt you could handle it."
He nodded toward the other side of the VIP booth.
Sylvia looked over. Across the table, a woman was cozied up to a client, already tipsy. She giggled, fed him a few olives from the martini tray, then slipped off his diamond pinky ring and dropped it down her own blouse.
you can't find it, I guess I'll just have to keep it,"
a minute of shameless groping, he didn't find the ring, but he did
her, Sylvia
breath, heavy and tinged with whiskey, was
you could pull that
went hot. She clutched her top
he held her fast, the heat from his thighs burning through his tailored suit pants.
buttons. His fingers skimmed the waistband
skirt. "Well?
a murderous
out of place
her through the haze. The way she sat on his lap lithe and tense, curves outlined in the soft light-made her look like something out of a forbidden dream. Even the client couldn't keep
ver
the cigarette between his fingers. His grip on her waist
anyway, swaggering
shy, sweetheart? Maybe I should give you a
a drink-don't kill Mr.
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