Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 219

The woman’s voice was smooth and sweet, like warm honey melting over your heart.

She reached out, her fingers tipped with striking, seductive crimson polish.

Twisting open a bottle of expensive whiskey on the table, she poured the amber liquid into a crystal tumbler; the spirit caught the light as it sloshed, fiery and potent. She offered the glass to Victor.

Victor lounged against the back of the sofa, eyes half-lidded with lazy indifference. He didn’t bother to take the drink, not even after a long pause.

The woman’s hand hovered awkwardly in midair, glass extended.

A man in a bright, flashy shirt nearby chuckled. “You know, Doris is the darling of the Verdant Pavilion. She hardly ever entertains guests, but tonight, our crown prince is the lucky one.”

Victor’s low, languid voice carried a hint of amusement. “Is that so?”

Doris smiled, flicking her eyes at the man. “Mr. Flynn loves to tease me. This is your first visit, Victor, so as your host, it’s only right I show you a warm welcome.”

With that, she quietly set the drink back on the table and sat primly to the side.

Isadora’s gaze drifted across the head of the table, casual and disinterested—until, out of nowhere, her eyes locked with his: deep, fathomless, impossible to read.

Caught off guard, she looked away in a flash, as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

She forced herself to focus on the cards in front of her.

She was the ringer in this game.

But playing cards was still better than drinking with these people.

Jonathan had said earlier that if Victor was pleased, Seafarer Designs would go straight to the finals.

He hadn’t said she had to win the game.

Isadora guessed that losing might make Victor even happier.

Someone suggested a quick, no-nonsense game of “Chicken”—each player gets a card, can call out the other’s hand, and whoever has the lower card has to accept a dare or punishment.

She wondered if someone was rigging the game.

First round, Victor drew the king—the highest card.

Laughter burst out around the table.

“Whoa, the king! Victor, who’s your target?”

“Come on!”

“Drink up! Don’t be shy, be a man!”

Jonathan’s face twisted, sour and stiff, but he didn’t dare refuse.

Wendy leaned in close to whisper in Isadora’s ear. “Isadora, do you think that man is helping us?”

Isadora replied quietly, “He’s not that generous.” Even if he was, there’d be a price to pay later.

Steeling himself, Jonathan closed his eyes and grabbed a bottle, chugging it back in one go.

He finished the first, set the empty bottle down, and reached for the next.

Phones came out—someone started snapping photos.

By the time he got to the fourth bottle, his face was red, his eyes glazed.

Then, with a heavy thud, Jonathan’s hefty frame collapsed onto the floor, unable to go on.