Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 187

Isadora’s face stiffened, the rest of her words dying in her throat.

She ignored him after that.

Half-reclining on the hospital bed, she busied herself texting Nanette.

Nanette was filming overseas, and the moment she heard what happened to Isadora, she wanted to catch the next flight back.

But Isadora talked her out of it.

The injury wasn’t that serious—just a bad knock to her right leg, making it tough to walk for now.

A week in the hospital, and she’d probably be discharged.

Nanette: “So, did you tell Magnus today that Elise was behind the kidnapping? How did he react? Did he believe you?”

Isadora: “No idea.”

Nanette: “Guess last time’s ‘strip and shame’ lesson didn’t stick for Elise. Just wait till I get back and give her a piece of my mind!”

Isadora hadn’t mentioned that Elise had slept with Magnus.

It would only make her seem bothered by it.

Even though, the second she heard, she’d felt utterly sick.

Nanette: “So, does your prince charming know you fell off a cliff and Magnus went all knight-in-shining-armor to save you? Did he get jealous and throw a fit?”

“I mean, c’mon, if this were a TV show, the leading man would be drowning in jealousy.”

Jealous? Not that she could tell.

A temper? Oh, definitely.

He looked ready to eat her alive, for crying out loud.

Isadora glanced up from her phone, her gaze wandering to the balcony, where Victor was on the phone.

Her VIP hospital room came with a private bathroom, a sofa, even a little balcony.

Victor stood out there, tall and broad-shouldered, one elegant hand holding a black phone to his ear, the other braced on the railing.

His voice, cold enough to freeze water, drifted back inside—like someone owed him a fortune.

She wondered what kind of psychological trauma he was inflicting on the poor soul at the other end.

Even just seeing his back, she could sense the chill and distance he radiated, the unapproachable aura of someone used to being in charge.

Isadora toyed with the idea of bringing up the topic of breaking up.

But with Victor’s granite-hard temperament, she wisely kept her mouth shut.

Drawing a deep breath, she braced herself against the side table, stretched, and reached for the IV stand.

Just as her fingers grazed it, a large, strong hand swept past her head and grabbed the IV for her.

Isadora looked up—and met Victor’s eyes, dark and unfathomable as midnight.

They stood so close, she could see her own fragile reflection in his gaze.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Victor’s sharp gaze swept over her, pausing at her tightly pressed-together legs. His eyes narrowed.

“What, you can’t even ask for help while you're in the hospital?”

Isadora stubbornly thought to herself, she’d never ask him for anything.

“I can handle it myself.”

She reached for the IV from him, determined to manage on her own and hop to the bathroom.

Victor let out a cold, derisive chuckle. “Such a temper. Funny how you save all your attitude just for me, huh?”

Isadora’s eyes burned with frustration. “I do not.”

“Sure, sure, you don’t,” he replied, his tone patronizing—like he was humoring a stubborn child.