Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 185

The man wore a cool-toned gray shirt, simple in cut, with the top two buttons undone. His long legs were wrapped in sharply tailored black slacks.

He stood with the light behind him, making it impossible for Isadora to see his face clearly.

All she could make out was the hint of aristocratic detachment on his features—expressionless, with eyes black as obsidian, piercing and remote.

Isadora blinked, stunned to realize it was him.

Her hand slackened, and the sketchbook slipped from the bed to the floor.

Victor strode forward, his face unreadable. He bent, picked up the sketchbook, and placed it gently back into her hands.

“So. Not happy to see me?”

Isadora pressed her lips together. “When did you… come back?”

Victor’s steady gaze fixed on the woman in the hospital bed, his voice giving nothing away. “A few days ago.”

When he’d heard Isadora was waiting for him on the phone, he’d been in Solstrand, scheduled for another week. But he’d compressed all his meetings into three grueling days, just to surprise her.

From the moment he boarded the plane to when he landed, he hadn’t rested once. He’d told his driver to go straight to Brocade Heights.

When he arrived at her place, she was gone. Hundreds of calls went unanswered.

He hadn’t expected to have to track down his own girlfriend.

He’d even had to send someone to find her.

How ironic.

Victor’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His presence was overwhelming up close, the scent of pine and tobacco clinging to him.

His words weren’t harsh, but they sent a tremor through Isadora’s heart, making her feel as if she’d done something terribly wrong.

She dropped her gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. “My phone broke.”

Victor’s sharp, striking eyes darkened. He let out a cold laugh. “Isadora, you were rescued. You’ve been awake for a whole week. Your phone’s been broken for a week, too? You didn’t think to reach out the day after you woke up?”

Isadora bit her lip. “It was nothing serious. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Victor’s expression turned stormy, his voice suddenly icy and frightening. “Nothing serious? You were kidnapped and thrown off a cliff, and that’s ‘nothing serious’?”

Still, her eyes stung, that ache of unfairness rising up and blurring her vision.

She sniffed. “I never said that. If you’re looking for an argument, come back another day. I’m not in the mood.”

Oh, great.

He’d come to pick a fight?

When he’d heard she’d been kidnapped—thrown off a cliff—panic and fear had seized him for the first time in his life. He’d rushed straight to the hospital.

Even Magnus, that reckless idiot, had managed to save her.

All Victor had wanted was for her to be safe—nothing else mattered.

And now she said he’d come to argue.

Victor felt his chest tighten painfully.

He wanted to shake some sense into her, but hated how desperate he must look.

Victor stared at Isadora for a long, silent moment, his eyes dark and unfathomable. Without another word, he turned and walked out the door.