Sylvia followed Rupert''s gaze, only to realize her sweater had somehow hooked itself onto his belt buckle.
Any slight move from him, and her shirt would ride up.
Flustered, she tried to tug her sweater free, but her hand identallynded somewhere it really shouldn''t have.
The next instant, Rupert''s hand closed firmly around her wrist.
His lips pressed into a hard line, his eyes smoldering in the dim light-he looked like a wolf holding himself back.
He growled, every word deliberate: "Don''t move."
Sylvia felt the tension in his body, her eyes widening in shock. Sweat prickled along her hairline as she fumbled even more desperately to unhook her sweater.
"My shirt''s stuck-"
Click.
His belt buckle popped open.
"Uh-Mr. Rupert..." Orson appeared, clutching an urgent folder. He took one look at the scene, snapped his mouth shut, and spun around. "I saw nothing. I''lle backter."
He beat a hasty retreat.
Sylvia wished she could crawl under the floorboards. She just wanted to get free as fast as possible.
But the more she struggled, the worse it got. In her panic, she ended up yanking almost the entire belt out of Rupert''s jeans.
She could feel Rupert''s gaze on her, growing more and more unreadable.
His voice dropped, half amused, half dark: “No need to be in such a rush.”
"I''m not rushing!"
Mortified, Sylvia ducked her head to try and bite the loose thread caught on her sweater, forgetting just how awkwardly close she was.
Rupert watched her lean in, his Adam''s apple bobbing as he swallowed. No matter how hard he tried to keep his cool, his breath stuttered.
He reached out, lifting her chin with a gentle but firm touch. His voice was low and rough: "Let me."
He rummaged in his desk drawer, pulling out a tiny box cutter from the very bottom. Carefully, he sliced through the tangled thread.
As soon as she was free, Sylvia scrambled backwards, putting some distance between them.
She looked down at the gaping hole in her sweater, wondering how she''d ever fix
it.
Bailey, having watched Rupert stand
up to fix his belt, couldn''t help but
notice how effortless-even
casual-he made the movement
look, despite the situation.
Sylvia''s gaze flicked over, identally catching a glimpse of... well, more than she intended.
Suddenly, Rupert paused.
His deep voice floated over her head. "Never seen one before?"
"I—I was just checking if your belt was broken, that''s all!" Sylvia blurted, her voice
a little too loud, a little too defensive.
Rupert looked down at her, a sly grin curling at his lips. "Anything else you were hoping to see?"
Her mind went nk, realizing how obvious she sounded.
She leapt to her feet, pushing past him. "I need to use the restroom."
Rupert watched her flee, then sat down and ordered a ss of ice water. He downed it in one go, eyes closed.
By the time Orson returned, Rupert was back to his usual cool, unruffled self.
"What is it?" he asked, setting his water down.
Orson handed o
over the folder. "Mr. Rupert, you called it. Once Ms. Lloyd and Fanny kicked up a fuss, all we had to do was leak evidence about Fanny''s misdeeds-she''s like a rotten apple spoiling the whole
barrel. Now that the Lance family''s
out, Tristan has no choice but to hand the mining operations over to you."
?art 2 E
"These are the files on the Garcia cousins who''ve been running the mines these past few years. Orice you handle the fallout, the whole operation will be yours."
Rupert scanned the documents, shooting Orson a warning look. "Keep the small talk to yourself."
"Yes, sir."
Outside, Sylvia leaned against the wall, her face pale and her eyes squeezed shut, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.
Now that she knew Rupert was the one who''d taken down the Lance family, she
was almost relieved that Tristan had pressured her to drop thewsuit.
After all, her goal had always been to take the Lances down too.
But, with her limited power, she''d never have made it out of this unscathed.
Only after overhearing their conversation did she realize how out of her depth she truly was.