Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

"Ms. Ward, he never touches the pickles. Hand them over."

But before she could reach for the plate, Rupert Garcia snagged it first.

"Who says I don't like pickles?"

"..."

Sylvia Lloyd stared at Rupert in surprise as he dipped his fork in the tangy brine.

He was acting a little strange today.

But she shrugged it off, poking at a couple of pierogis on her plate just to be polite.

As soon as Ms. Ward finished her meal, Sylvia got up to help clear the table, hoping to nudge her toward the door. But after a brief lull, Ms. Ward's favorite pastime kicked back in-gossip.

"So, it's really over?" she asked, wiping down the table with a paper towel. "Yeah." Sylvia glanced unconsciously at Rupert and nodded.

Not that there was ever really anything to end, anyway.

Ms. Ward's eyes lit up with excitement. "Well, I'll set you up with someone!"

"What?"

Sylvia almost dropped her mug.

Ms. Ward shot a quick look at Rupert and reassured him, "Mr. Rupert, as your aunt, I promise I'll thoroughly vet anyone I introduce to your niece. No way I'd let her end up with a bad egg."

Rupert's eyes narrowed as he looked at Sylvia, his tone chilly, "What do you say, kid?"

A chill ran down Sylvia's spine. She shook her head quickly, "No, really, I'm good."

Ms. Ward was easy to handle—just a little small talk and she'd drop it soon enough.

She nodded, "Fair enough, you're still young. But just don't go crawling back to your ex, okay?"

Sylvia stiffened, forcing a smile. "Not going back... Oh! I almost forgot-I got you a little gift."

She hurried to grab a small gift box and handed it over. "Open it when you get home."

Ms. Ward looked a bit embarrassed, "Thank you, hun. I'll get going, then."

She gathered the plates and headed toward the door.

Suddenly, she spun around as if something just popped into her head.noveldrama

"Right! My boss just had a second baby girl, and he's over the moon He wants to commission a special piece of jewelry for her, so I recommended you. Here's his card."

She fished a business card from her pocket and handed it to Sylvia.

"Thanks."

After she left, Sylvia examined the card. Turned out, Ms. Ward had given her a slip of paper with a handwritten phone number instead.

As she stared at the numbers, a weird feeling of déjà vu washed over her.

But before she could figure it out, a sudden presence loomed behind her—a

warmth pressed against her back, pinning her to the door.

With a hint of irritation, Rupert pushed her tighter against the wood, holding her wrists behind her.

"Why did you have dinner with Warren Garcia?"

Sylvia squirmed, shooting back, "Who I eat with is none of your business, Uncle Rupert! Can you just stop controlling me?"

Her voice rose at the end, echoing through the quiet room.

She couldn't see his face, but she could feel his chest heaving. Her wrists ached from his grip.

Then, just as suddenly, he let her go.

Sylvia rubbed her sore wrist, eyes blazing. "Get out! I don't want to see you!"

She turned to march deeper into the house, but before she could take a step, Rupert grabbed her by the nape and hauled her back.

He gripped her firmly, forcing her to meet his gaze.

When she looked into those dark eyes, her breath caught-she'd never seen so

many emotions flickel

across his face, his jaw clenched, eyes icy and wild.

"He lied to you, and you still had dinner with him? Sylvia, that makes no sense!"

They were so close she could feel his breath, hot and ragged.

She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off-crushing his lips to hers. When she resisted, he clamped her chin and pried her mouth open chin with a dominance that left no room for protest.

"You... jerk."

He smirked against her lips. "I can be worse. See him again, and I'll show you just how bad I can get. Try me."