Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 320

Isadora finally had a free afternoon, so she joined him at a business management forum.

They had just finished listening to a keynote by a celebrated CEO.

Sitting beside her, Terrell Fawcett handed Isadora a glass of warm water. “Take a break—here, have some water.”

“Thank you,” she replied, accepting the glass and taking a sip.

“I picked up a lot of practical ideas today about management styles,” Isadora remarked. “It’s been really useful.”

Terrell watched her in profile, a gentle smile playing at his lips. “Not many women are as eager to learn as you.”

She turned, raising an eyebrow. “Really? So what are the women you know like?”

Terrell wasn’t exactly an authority on women. His first love had been passionate about dancing. As for business—Isadora was honestly the first woman he’d met who seemed interested in something as cold and calculated as commerce.

With a touch of meaning, Terrell teased, “Women ought to let men pamper them. Working yourself too hard isn’t good.”

Isadora grinned. “I don’t really have a choice, do I? I can’t very well let The Vaughan Group go down the drain on my watch.”

Something flickered behind Terrell’s glasses, his gaze darkening. “You’re always so determined to prove yourself.”

They strolled over to the buffet. Terrell, ever attentive, filled a plate with desserts for her.

Isadora accepted it, but the sugary sweetness was overwhelming—she felt a wave of nausea.

Terrell noticed her discomfort. “Not a fan of the cake?”

She shook her head lightly. “It’s not that. The air in here just feels a bit stuffy.”

“Do you want to get some fresh air? I’ll go with you,” Terrell offered.

Just then, a senior organizer from the forum approached. “Mr. Fawcett, sorry to interrupt, but everyone would love to hear you share your experience on stage.”

Terrell hesitated, glancing at Isadora.

She smiled reassuringly. “It’s fine, go ahead. I’ll just step outside for a bit.”

The two little troublemakers lifted their toy guns and aimed at Isadora.

She could tell these kids were spoiled rotten—unruly, wild, and utterly fearless.

“If you keep this up, I’m going to get really mad,” she warned.

But her threat only amped them up.

“Look out! The enemy’s angry! Time to snipe—let’s take her down!” they shouted gleefully.

Isadora was barely into her pregnancy, and the last thing she needed was a barrage of plastic pellets to the body.

Her eyes flicked to a long-handled broom leaning against the wall nearby. She took a step, intending to grab it.

Meanwhile, across the corridor in another banquet hall, Victor was chatting with a colleague. Tall and relaxed, one hand in his pocket, he heard the commotion down the hall and glanced over absently.

But then he caught sight of a familiar figure—and his gaze sharpened, freezing for a moment as he recognized her.