Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 247

Isadora couldn’t help but reach out and press the button, lowering the car window. She needed to let some of the damp, stuffy air escape.

Clearing her throat, she changed the subject.

“Victor, you promised—once I finish paying off the interest, you’ll help me find out what’s going on with Abbott.”

Victor raised an eyebrow, unable to hide his amusement. After a pause, he twirled a lock of her hair around his finger and gave a lazy smile.

“You really are ungrateful, aren’t you?”

If she ever showed him even a fraction of the kindness she gave to others, Victor figured he should count himself lucky.

They finally pulled up outside Summit Crest Estates.

Lately, they’d been coming home together every night.

In the elevator, Isadora felt awkward, still self-conscious about what had just happened in the car. Even though she’d wiped her hands, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still sticky, that she somehow carried his scent all over her body.

She kept her head down, eyes fixed on the pointed toes of her silver stilettos.

Victor glanced at her, pressed into the far corner as if she could disappear entirely. His tone was casual, teasing.

“What, did you spot a pile of gold down there? Stare any harder and you’ll burn a hole through the floor.”

Isadora bit her lip and shot him a look, her eyes shining and clear, catching the light like a pool of water in autumn. It wasn’t exactly intimidating, but it was impossible to look away.

Victor’s gaze drifted down to her feet.

The delicate silver heels, the slender ankle straps tied in neat bows, her toes painted a soft blush pink—her feet were strikingly pretty.

He kept hold of her hand, now tracing his thumb along her elegant fingers. His voice dropped, deliberately mischievous.

“Hmm. Cute. Very pink.”

His words lingered in the air, heavy with suggestion. His gaze, hot and unhurried, traveled inch by inch over her feet. Isadora shivered at the almost electric sensation, curling her toes reflexively.

Victor strolled in, casual as ever.

Nanette’s voice was loud enough to be heard across the room. Isadora hadn’t expected her to notice the background, and for a moment she was at a loss for words. She dropped her voice, mumbling,

“I’m… at a friend’s place.”

Victor’s eyes flickered over, expression unreadable. He paused in front of the full-length mirror, fingers unhurried as he loosened his tie.

But Nanette wasn’t so easily fooled.

“A friend? I’m your only friend, and this isn’t my place. Unless… are you actually living with that trust fund guy?!”

Victor raised an eyebrow. Maybe her friend wasn’t so clueless after all.

He peeled off his shirt, tossing it into the laundry basket, revealing lean, sculpted muscle—a body both powerful and effortlessly graceful.