Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Sylvia jerked her head away, dodging Warren's touch.

His hand froze in midair, then he lowered it with a soft chuckle. "Still mad at me?"

He sounded just like someone soothing a sulking girlfriend.

But Sylvia felt cold sweat prickling down her back.

She struggled, voice tight. "What do you want from me?"

Warren watched her for a few seconds, ignoring her anger, his tone gentle. "You must be starving. Why don't you sit down and eat something first?"

He took his seat with effortless grace, signaling to the flight attendant.

Sylvia refused to sit, but the bodyguard behind her pressed down hard on her shoulders, forcing her into the plush leather seat.

The flight attendant poured them champagne and set down plates of freshly- seared steak, the aroma filling the private jet's cabin.

Warren raised his glass toward Sylvia, inviting her to toast.

Sylvia sat rigid, fists clenched, refusing to play along.

"Sylvia, let's be real. At this point, fighting me is only going to make things worse for you."

Warren's gaze burned through the rim of his champagne flute.

A chill gripped Sylvia. She felt exposed, trapped under his scrutiny.

But he was right.

Thirty thousand feet in the air, what could she do? She didn't even know where they were headed.

Taking a shaky breath, she forced herself to look him in the eye. "Alright, hotshot. Where are you taking me?"

Warren took a deliberate sip of his champagne, set the glass down, and began to slice into his steak, a gentle, almost affable smile never leaving his lips.

"Sylvia, don't bother fishing for information. I've already destroyed every tracker you had on you. And up here, all your little gadgets are useless."

Instinctively, Sylvia's hand went to her shirt buttons.

Sure enough, the one with the GPS chip was gone.

A cold wave swept through her. She clenched her fists tighter, swallowing her nerves. "When did you start working with Caleb no, I should say Bridget?"

Warren arched a brow, thinking

Ynetnoveldrama

aloud as if searching for the answer. "Working together? That sounds so...underhanded. But since you want to know, let's see... Was it that night at O'Malley's? Or when Bridget had her little 'emergency'? Maybe even before that."

Each word felt like a knife twisting deeper in Sylvia's chest.

So he'd known about Bridget and Caleb all along. Everything that happened- she'd been led into a trap.

Her face was drained of color. Her nails dug into her palms, but she barely felt the pain.

"Mrs. Fiona asked me to go to the hospital with her to make sure I'd find out about Bridget's pregnancy. The more I fought with her, the more I distracted Uncle Rupert."

"And that night at the pub-you warned Bridget and Caleb, didn't you? I thought..."

Her words caught in her throat, pain radiating through her chest.

Warren looked at her, unfazed. "You thought Uncle Rupert was taking Bridget's side?"

That's exactly what she'd thought.

She hesitated, then another memory struck her. "And in Madison, that night— were you helping Bridget and Caleb then too?"

Warren just gave a low, amused laugh, not bothering to answer.

Fury rose up in Sylvia's chest. "Why are you doing this? If you're just using me to get at Uncle Rupert, you're wasting your time."

"Oh?" Warren kept cutting his steak, lips curled in a lazy smile. "Maybe. But it's worth a try. And even if I lose, I still get what I want."

He set down his knife and fork, looked Sylvia straight in the eye. His gaze was possessive-hungry, even-but tinged with something like resentment.

Sylvia's spine went rigid, pinned to the seat.

She sensed danger coiling closer.

But then Warren let out a self-deprecating laugh, his tone softening for the first

time.

"Sylvia, do you remember the first

time we met? Every family event, we were always side by side. You'd tip your head back and call me

brother' Even then, ne

only

she wasn't my sister...' Sylvia, you've always been in my heart."