Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 67

Victor gave a crooked smile. “Follow you? You think I have time for that?”

Isadora pressed her lips together. The accusation had just slipped out—she knew perfectly well Victor wasn’t the type to waste his time tailing someone as insignificant as her.

She tried to recover. “Dinner will have to wait. I’m not in the mood tonight. You should head home, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

He let out a short, cold laugh. “Oh, I see. No mood for me, but you find time for Magnus, don’t you?”

She felt the sting of his words—Victor was nothing if not perceptive. The double standard was obvious, even if she tried to deny it.

Victor’s gaze hardened. “Don’t forget about the investment I wired over today. Is this your way of showing gratitude?”

Isadora’s confidence wavered. She owed him, no matter how much she tried to deny it. It was hard to stand tall when you’d accepted someone’s help.

“I…”

Before she could finish, she felt a sudden, unfamiliar heat at the corner of her mouth.

Victor drew a hand from his coat pocket, his long fingers brushing softly at her lips, wiping away a trace of something she hadn’t noticed. The gentle friction sent a strange, electric shiver through her.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Then his voice, low and dangerous, cut through the silence. “Did he touch you?”

Her heart skipped. The underlying threat in his tone was unmistakable.

Magnus had tried to kiss her earlier, but she’d broken away just in time. From Victor’s perspective, though, it must have looked damning—she’d taken his money and promised to stay away from Magnus, only to be caught with him the very next moment. No matter how wealthy or powerful Victor was, nobody liked playing the fool.

Isadora opened her mouth to explain, but Victor was already moving. He strode forward, long legs closing the gap between them in an instant, and shut the door behind him.

He radiated a dangerous intensity—more predatory than Magnus ever could, like a lion on the verge of pouncing.

Isadora jolted awake, clarity flickering in her eyes. “Victor, let me go! Stop!”

He glanced down, his eyes smoldering, his voice rough as gravel. “You’re not behaving, Isadora.”

With that, he gave her a light, admonishing smack on her backside. Isadora stiffened, her cheeks flaming red. This insufferable man—how could he?

She tried to explain, her voice trembling. “Magnus just showed up, I didn’t know he was coming—”

“I don’t want to hear another man’s name from your lips tonight,” Victor growled, cutting her off.

He swept her up, hands firm beneath her thighs, lifting her effortlessly. Pinning her against the wall, he nudged her legs apart. Instinctively, Isadora wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on as her world tilted.

Her entire body clung to him, breathless and flushed. Victor’s lips curled into a satisfied smile—her surrender stoked something fierce inside him, and the anger in his chest eased.

He tugged her robe from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. The silk nightdress beneath clung to her frame, the dusky blue fabric gleaming against her porcelain skin in the soft light, impossibly tempting.