Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Chapter 486

Sylvia stood outside the brightly lit mansion, her hand halfway to the doorbell before she let it fall to her side.

Would it really be him?

As she hesitated, the door swung open and Orson stepped out onto the porch.

"Ms. Lloyd, Mr. Rupert is expecting you."

"Expecting me? He knew I was coming?" Sylvia's brows shot up in surprise.

Orson didn't answer, just gestured her inside.

She lingered for a moment, torn, but finally followed him in, her heart thudding as the familiar house came into view-closer than she'd been in years.

A storm of conflicting feelings churned inside her, pulling her in all directions.

If Rupert was the one who'd saved her... what on earth was she supposed to say?

Lost in thought, she barely realized she was standing in the foyer. The place hadn't changed-same old English antiques, the scent of lemon polish and woodsmoke. She barely had a chance to look around before a man's footsteps echoed from the staircase behind her.

She balled her fists, steeling herself, and turned.

Rupert must've stepped out from the shower-damp hair, a black silk robe hanging open over his chest, skin still glistening with steam.

His movements were easy, relaxed. No sign of injury-no gunshot wound, not even a scratch from a scuffle.

Sylvia froze, her heart caught in her throat-then suddenly, it plummeted.

She should be relieved it wasn't Rupert; that way, she owed him nothing.

But... somehow, there was an ache she couldn't put into words. She took a deep breath and forced her face into a calm mask.

"Uncle Rupert."

"Take a seat."

he sat, a cigarette already between his

casting his sharp features in

out of her daze. She shook her head. "No, thanks. I won't keep

She turned to leave.

her cold, icy

your mom can keep

her face. "What's that supposed to

"You tell me."

hard, toying with the

what Orson meant

palms, the

t not enough to

after my mom? You knew I'd come

"Yes."

was low, cold. The smoke hid his expression, but the power in his posture was unmistakable-like some

Step into the trap.

was

minutes ago, she'd

he

she just felt played.

"If I refuse?"

you don't get a

was drowning in the deep end of an

vision blurred as tears threatened. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her

at him—her gaze dull,

Uncle Rupert. I'll turn

her mom-Naomi-but in that instant,

grand. Ten years behind