Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 52

No wonder people say a man who can cook is the most attractive of all.

Isadora had never seen Magnus cook before. Not once had he made a meal for her. And yet, here she was, experiencing something entirely new with Victor.

Isadora clasped Pudding’s paws in her hands and gave them a little shake, grinning. “Victor actually knows his way around the kitchen.”

Woof, woof, woof!

Pudding barked enthusiastically, as if he wholeheartedly agreed.

Victor glanced over at the woman and her dog standing in the kitchen doorway. “You and that silly mutt seem to be having quite the conversation.”

Isadora stood up straight—she wasn’t the type to just sit around while someone else did all the work. “Need a hand?”

He arched an eyebrow. “You can cook?”

Isadora nodded. She could. In fact, she was pretty good at it. As a child, she’d cooked all her little sister Carla’s meals. Later, after she got together with Magnus—who had notoriously picky tastes—Isadora had learned new recipes just to make meals he’d enjoy.

Victor’s dark eyes lingered on her, thoughtful and a little unreadable. “Just sit tight. I’ve got it.”

A short while later, Victor appeared at the dining table with several dishes: honey-glazed ribs, sautéed pork with spring vegetables, a comforting chicken and mushroom soup, and delicately steamed fish.

His sleeves were still rolled up, and the veins stood out starkly on his forearms as he carried the plates, his long, graceful fingers moving with practiced ease.

Isadora blinked, her gaze drifting over those hands. She remembered all too well how those fingers had once sent shivers through her, how they had taken her to dizzying heights of pleasure.

Feeling a blush rising, Isadora quickly fanned her cheeks with her hand.

“Hot?” Victor asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.

“A little,” she admitted, pressing her lips together.

Victor reached out without hesitation, his palm gentle as he touched her cheek and then slid his hand down, tracing her earlobe.

Isadora tensed, her whole body going rigid.

She took a bite of the ribs. Sweet and tangy flavors exploded on her tongue, the meat tender enough to melt in her mouth. It was honestly the best she’d ever tasted—even better than her own.

No wonder Pudding loved it. She did too.

She kept reaching for more, sneaking glances at Victor as he ate beside her. Just how many sides did this man have? Unlike Magnus’s cold detachment, Victor’s elegance felt effortless, almost aristocratic, but with a relaxed, sensual edge. Even the simple act of eating dinner seemed to radiate refinement—a kind of grace that could only be learned in a very particular upbringing.

Dinner ended, and Isadora glanced at the late hour. She should head back.

Truthfully, she was a little afraid Victor might ask her to stay the night. But he didn’t say a word. Instead, he grabbed her coat from the sofa.

“I’ll drive you home.”

“My car’s here,” she replied. “I can take myself.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Isadora, you know… you don’t have to go, if you’d rather stay.”

Isadora hesitated, at a rare loss for words.