Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Chapter 5

Victor shot him a cold, dismissive glance.

He strode into the living room, grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar, and poured himself a full glass. Lifting it to his lips, he downed it in one go. The burn of the liquor finally cut through the syrupy afterglow of the night, jolting him awake.

Finley let out a teasing click of his tongue.

"Well, look at you. Guess a satisfied man doesn't need the little help I brought, huh? Tell me, who's the woman who finally managed to pluck our untouchable prince off his pedestal?"

Finley was dying of curiosity.

After all, Victor had a reputation in the business world for being ice-cold, ruthless, and sharp as a blade. Behind closed doors, though, he was nothing like the rest of their crowd.

For Finley and his friends, blowing off steam meant sipping drinks, flirting with actresses and models, maybe splurging on a wild night if the mood struck. Victor joined in occasionally, but he always craved something with a little more edge- racing, surfing, skydiving, boxing. Women, to him, were just a hassle he didn't need.

Finley was about to give up hope of getting an answer when Victor set his empty glass on the counter. With a flick of his finger, he spun the tumbler, sending it whirling and scattering prisms of light across the marble surface.

His eyes were dark, unreadable. Casually, he said, "Isadora."

Finley froze, caught off guard.

Of all people-her?

so much because of the Vaughan family's pedigree, but

completely different circles. Recently, Magnus had been making headlines for throwing a lavish wedding, all

Finley had

Magnus on purpose? If you wanted to get even with him, I'd have thought Elise

enough to cut through steel. Finley suddenly felt a cold sweat run

scoffed. "Magnus? You really think I'd

gave a sheepish laugh. "Of course not, you've got better things to do. It's just...well, Isadora is his fiancée, and

to be the other

didn't dare say that

eyes. "You sure know

Did Victor actually want to

you might not have a

flew. Moments later, a private jet soared

the drug had worn off, leaving her aching and sore, as

of a helicopter overhead shook her

upright. The silk sheets slipped down, exposing pale skin covered in vivid marks-evidence of what

with Victor. Worse-she'd been the one to make the first

flush crept up Isadora's cheeks. For a moment, she had no idea how