Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Sylvia walked into the private lounge with her pretty-boy date on her arm.

They'd barely sat down before he eagerly flagged down the server and ordered a bottle of champagne— something top-shelf, running close to five grand.

He probably had some kind of deal going with the club: the more he ordered, the bigger his cut. While placing the order, he shot Sylvia a sneaky glance, clearly trying to gauge if she was loaded.

Sylvia caught his look and smiled—a sultry, knowing smile that could melt hearts.

"One bottle? That's it? Are you really only planning to spend one bottle's worth of time with me?”

The words had a teasing, almost scandalous undertone. She felt her cheeks flush, but thankfully, the dim lighting hid her embarrassment.

This was one of Eloise's tricks—she'd said the best way to reel a man in was to beat him to the punch, say what he was thinking before he could.

Sure enough, the pretty boy seemed entranced, inching closer, eyes locked on hers.

smolder, dropping his voice low. "Of course not. Even if there wasn't

it—she laughed out loud. His voice had a weird, bubbly quality to it, like he

a split second as an old memory flickered,

her hand, clearly about to lean in for a

back and slid the menu over to

gave her a loaded look. Sylvia played along, lips curling in

convinced he'd hooked a big fish. Guys like him-no matter how many beautiful women they met, it was never about feelings. Money was what mattered. The more generous Sylvia acted, the easier it was for him to believe she was an easy mark.

belongs to s

waited for the drinks, they made small talk. He kept trying to impress her, name-dropping and boasting about who he'd met abroad, how well-connected

arched a brow, feigning curiosity. “Oh yeah? Who do you

more than most cars.

watch was obviously a gift from one of those

why not

fished his phone out