Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 572

“Faking an injury, huh? So what exactly do you expect me to pay for?”

Rupert stared Sylvia down, his face cold as ever, but there was a storm brewing behind his eyes.

Sylvia ignored his glare and answered coolly, “How much was your cane? Just send me the bill. I’ll cover it. I’ve got somewhere to be, so I’ll head out.”

With that, she pushed his arm aside and made to leave.

Rupert didn’t stop her, just let out a low grunt.

He gripped a nearby column, his knuckles white. His tall frame hunched over, as if he was in serious pain.

Sylvia shot him a quick glance, her hands twitching as if she wanted to help—but she stopped herself.

She forced herself to turn away, her expression icy.

But she’d barely taken a step when Rupert grabbed her wrist.

He loomed behind her, his breath hot against her ear, each inhale growing tighter.

“Don’t go.”

Sylvia froze, swallowing hard, and tried to pry his hand off.

The moment she touched his skin, she felt a clammy sweat, his fingers trembling slightly.

Something was off. Sylvia gripped his hand, turned back and asked, “What’s wrong with you?”

Rupert didn’t answer—just stared at her, silent.

His gaze lingered on her face, the darkness in his eyes fading, replaced by a wild, desperate emotion.

Suddenly, he cupped the back of her neck, pulling her closer, his lips hovering just above hers.

“So, are you worried about me? Or just scared I’ll pull a fast one on you?”

His voice was low and rumbled right into her ear, each word slow and clear.

Snapping back to herself, Sylvia met his eyes.

She thought, maybe it was just her imagination, but Rupert really did look awful.

Rupert eyed her, his expression unreadable. “What’s got you so nervous? What are you thinking?”

“Nothing!” Sylvia shot back, exasperated, steadying him. “Let’s go.”

Rupert glanced at her burning ears, but said nothing as he let her lead him into the wine cellar.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of vintage reds, the golden light giving the place an oddly intimate vibe.

Sylvia helped him to the tasting lounge’s couch, then retreated to stand by the door.

Rupert sprawled on the sofa, looking both relaxed and exhausted.

Sylvia stayed put, wanting nothing more than to keep her distance.

Sylvia rushed over on instinct, quietly pouring him some tea instead.