Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 176

Sylvia jolted, startled by the strange Rupert. Her breath hitched as she tried to push him away.

But he caught her wrist, his fingers brushing over a patch of discolored skin- a faded burn she'd gotten some time ago.

"Are you recovered?" he asked, his deep voice carrying a hint of laziness.

Sylvia turned her face away, refusing to speak.

Rupert gently tilted her chin back toward him, his fingers lightly pinching her cheek.

"Can we talk like civilized people?"

"You forget- I'm as stubborn as a mule," Sylvia retorted, annoyance in her tone.

Rupert leaned against the table, his head drooping as he suppressed a chuckle.

"I try to have a serious conversation, and all you remember is the nonsense."

His tone was lighter now, tinged with rare ease.

Sylvia didn't know what to say. Moments ago, they were at each other's throats.

She looked down, unwilling to engage further.

But Rupert wasn't about to let her off so easily. He leaned in closer, his fingertip grazing her lip with a hint of boldness.

She didn't flinch, meeting his gaze with a hint of defiance. "Keep this up, and I won't hesitate to tell the press about your escapades with other women."

"Oh? Other women?" Rupert paused, studying her calmly.

"You had a dress made especially for her. Even Bridget never got such treatment. You must be keeping busy," Sylvia said with a cold laugh.

Rupert half-closed his eyes, understanding her implication.

His voice turned icy. "What do you want?"

"Just leave Warren alone."

"Sylvia! Why haven't you left yet?"

"Looks like we'll have to help you move. Well then... Oh, Mr. Rupert Garcia!"

It was the Dean, followed by three men in security uniforms Sylvia didn't recognize.

Sylvia’s eyes darted to the guards, catching sight of a tattoo peeking out from beneath one man's collar- a dead giveaway.

Security might not be the most prestigious job, but on campus, their presence was constant, and their image mattered. Her campus had strict rules against visible tattoos.

The tattoo suggested it spanned from the man's shoulder to his arm, something that would be noticeable in summer.

These men were clearly not campus security!

Rupert noticed too, but his realization came differently- through their walk. It was too swaggering, too forced in its attempt at silence. They had the look of men familiar with trouble.

They barged into a single woman’s dorm room—what might happen, no one dared to imagine.