Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 216

She blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the tangle of emotions.

Just then, the light turned green.

Isadora pressed her foot to the gas.

The car pulled away from the curb.

Halfway down the road, Rowena’s call came through.

“Isadora, I just found out the project director from Horizon Architects is attending a party tonight. I was planning to sneak in and pitch to him myself, but my dad’s come down with a sudden bout of gastroenteritis. I can’t leave him right now.”

“Is your dad going to be okay?”

“He’ll need a minor operation, so I have to stay with him. But I really don’t want to miss this opportunity—it might be our only shot. I’m counting on you to go in my place.”

“Don’t be so formal, Rowena. Seafarer Designs is my baby, too.”

“I’ve asked Wendy to go with you. She’ll fill you in on some of the details.”

“Got it.”

She hung up.

Isadora spun the wheel and made a U-turn.

A short drive later, she arrived at the Verdant Pavilion.

Verdant Pavilion was one of Capitolion’s most exclusive private clubs—opulent to the point of excess. Even the steps were carved from white marble, and priceless antique murals lined the walls. Nearly everyone who came here for a night out was either a corporate mogul or an heir to a fortune—pick any name out of the crowd, and their family probably owned half the city.

For some of the younger women, just getting their hands on an entry pass was a status symbol.

But the place was strictly members-only. Ordinary people didn’t even get past the front door.

Wendy, who had been hiding in a corner, spotted Isadora and scampered over.

“Isadora, thank God you’re here. Standing around in this place, I feel like I’m breathing wrong.”

A hostess in a sleek evening gown approached them. “Welcome, ladies. Do you have a reservation?”

Isadora, who’d spent so much time with Victor that she’d developed a poker face worthy of a high-stakes gambler, didn’t even blink. “Room 316. We can find our way.”

Wendy exhaled in relief. “Thank God you’re here, Isadora. I would’ve blown our cover in two seconds flat.”

They followed a winding corridor over a little indoor stream, arriving at Suite 316.

They lingered outside for a moment, then pushed open the door.

Inside, the party was in full swing—music, laughter, and a swirl of color and luxury. People were everywhere, men and women alike. There was drinking, dancing, and a sense of decadent extravagance hung in the air.

Wendy’s eyes scanned the crowd with radar precision. She leaned in to whisper, “Over there—that’s Mr. Oakley, the director at Horizon Architects.”

Isadora followed Wendy’s gaze and saw a man in his forties, hair slicked back, a slight paunch showing beneath his suit, one arm around a young woman in a short dress.

She plucked a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray, then started making her way toward him.