NovelFastThe skin on the back of Sylvia's hand stung from the heat, making her jerk away instinctively—but the man's grip
only tightened, like he was trying to crush her fingers.
She frowned and tried to pull free, about to snap at him, when she caught sight of the bandage wrapped around
the base of his thumb.
She hesitated, glancing up-and met Rupert's pitch-black eyes dead-on.
The warm glow from the chandelier spilled across his face, but it didn't soften his gaze, not even a little.
Sylvia stared straight at him. "Mr. Rupert, is there something else you want? If the Garcia family insists | take the
rest of those nine lashes, I'll go back right now. As long as it getsaway from them."
"Do you have to talk tolike that?"
Rupert's voice was cool, but there was something raw and unsteady beneath it. Sylvia gave a sharp, bitter laugh.
"Are we even close, Mr. Rupert?"
She looked away, cold and distant, determined to keep as much space between them as possible.
Rupert watched her retreat, and for a moment, his carefully controlled expression fractured. He forgot the
promise he'd made to Lester, forgot the composure he always kept.
Anyone else could treat him like this-he didn't care. But not her. With her, he just couldn't take it.
As Sylvia tried to step back, his arm shot out and pulled her against him. Her waist was pinned tight, his face
buried in her hair, breath hot against her ear. The sensation sent a shiver straight through her.
She turned her face away, refusing to meet his eyes.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt
Rupert pulled back just enough to see her face, his fingers brushing her chin, still tinged with the scent of
cigarettes. His presence seemed to hang around her, inescapable no matter how hard she tried.
He leaned closer, eyes flickering as he squeezed her chin. "Your ears are turning red."
Sylvia's hands flew up to cover her ears before she could stop herself.
Rupert's lips curled into a smirk—he'd said it just to tease her, and she'd fallen for it.
"Mr. Rupert, what exactly do you want from me? I've lost my memory. Please stop doing things that'll give people
the wrong idea."
She tried to yank her hand away, but he held her wrist tight, pulling her up onto her toes, forcing her even close
Their breaths mingled their noses almost touching. s
Was it just her imagination, or was he actually smiling?
Rupert's voice was low and steady. "Sylvia, memory or no memory, Garcia family or not-you're not
getting away from me
want you
you could be the most stubborn mule in Kentucky and I'd still drag you back." sw
"Who are you calling a mule? You're the mule! You're shameless! You have no decency!" Sylvia snapped.
Rupert shrugged. "Look at the things I'm doing. You really think | care about decency?"
"You-!"
She glared at him, furious, but at a loss for words.
Suddenly, she winced, her face twisting in pain. "Ow..."
Rupert's eyes narrowed. "Sylvia, who exactly do you think you're fooling with that act?"
Her heart skipped a beat. She was
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She shoved him away and scrambled back onto the bed.
Normally, trying to get away from
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today, he'd let her go easily, even stumbling back a little himself.
Orson, hovering nearby, hurried over in alarm. "Mr. Rupert, your—"
Rupert's face darkened. "It's nothing. Just give it to her."
Orson glanced at Rupert's clenched
fists and the sweat we asiil
hairlin then suiakly tebe forward
blocking Rupert from view to give
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"Ms. Lloyd, this is from the Garcia family's chef."
Sylvia's attention snapped to the insulated container in Orson's hands. She eyed
it suspiciously. "What is it?"
Orson popped the lid, and the rich aroma of a steaming chicken pot pie wafted
out,
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