Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 169

“I need to head out early, Nanette. Something’s come up.”

Isadora kept her eyes on her phone as she spoke.

“So soon?”

Nanette glanced over, looking like something was weighing on her mind. She noticed Isadora still staring intently at her phone.

A knowing, slightly teasing smile spread across Nanette’s face. “Alright then, don’t let me keep you. Go on—your Prince Charming’s waiting.”

Isadora opened her mouth to explain, but the words wouldn’t come.

Ever since she’d given Nanette that recording, Nanette seemed convinced she’d asked Victor for help. If she ever found out it was actually Victor’s grandmother who’d pulled the strings, there’s no way she’d have accepted it. So, Isadora had to keep it to herself.

After Isadora left, Nanette’s mood visibly dipped. She’d been putting on a smile for everyone all day as the event’s spokesperson, and the effort was starting to wear her out.

She made her way straight for the lounge area, aiming for the nearest couch, when a man in sharply polished dress shoes suddenly blocked her path.

Nanette looked up and instantly recognized him—Scales, that insufferable jerk.

He stood with his arms crossed, a smirk dancing around his lips as he looked her up and down.

Nanette frowned, making no effort to hide her disdain. “What, you think you own the place? Step aside.”

Scales cocked his head, feigning shock. “Wow, been on your feet all day, huh? You look exhausted. How about I take care of you?”

Nanette let out a cold laugh. “You men are all the same—full of lies. If you want to scam someone, pick someone with less sense. I’m not falling for your act.”

She tried to step around him, but he blocked her way with one broad arm.

“Hey, I’m talking to you. I’m interested—let’s at least be friends.”

His expression all but screamed, “Aren’t you lucky the great Scales wants to be friends with you?”

A sleek, black stretch Rolls-Royce sat parked in the middle of the lot, as if daring anyone to miss who it belonged to. The driver stood by the open door, waiting respectfully.

A driver? That was unusual. Victor never liked following the rules like those other trust-fund brats who couldn’t go anywhere without an entourage. He preferred to drive himself—and fast.

Isadora hesitated for a moment, remembering the way she’d snapped at him earlier. Her heart pounded. Was he really planning on… doing it in the car? With the driver right there?

She steeled herself, then slipped inside.

The driver closed the door and retreated a respectful distance, waiting quietly.

Inside, Victor lounged in the backseat, eyes closed as if napping. Light cut across his face, highlighting sharp features and a rakish sort of handsomeness. His shirt hung open at the collar, casual and just a bit wild.

Isadora couldn’t help but sneak a few glances. She had to admit: Victor was exactly her type.

After a while, Victor cracked open his dark, lazy eyes. His low, husky voice filled the car. “Enjoying the view?”