Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Chapter 80

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But knowing Richard, he was always ruthlessly pragmatic-everything boiled down to profit and power.

Even if she wasn't willing, as long as Magnus and Richard struck some sort of deal, Richard would have her walking down the aisle without a second thought.

People liked to pretend society was modern and democratic now, but in elite circles, the old rules still reigned. Among the upper class, especially those old- school, controlling parents, marriage was just another business alliance-and their children's objections meant nothing at all.

And with Magnus-arrogant, stubborn, dictatorial as ever-her wishes barely registered. In their eyes, she was just a pawn; her consent was irrelevant. In the end, she'd probably be forced into marriage whether she liked it or not.

Just the thought made her bristle with frustration.

No.

She absolutely refused to give in.

Isadora looked down, fiddling with the high neckline of her dress. Only she knew how vivid the marks on her skin really were, just below her collar. Her complexion was so fair and delicate, a careless touch was enough to leave deep bruises.

relentless in that way. The traces he left on her body were impossible to miss. Not that she had held back, either; her nails had left

memory made Isadora smirk

love to see how

while later, Isadora slipped into her wedding gown-layers of sheer fabric draped softly over her chest.

the bridal boutique couldn't help but gasp

brides try on dresses, but never

fell in loose waves; her features were striking, her skin luminous, her smile bright. The gown's design traced every elegant curve, perfectly highlighting her silhouette-she was slender, but hardly frail; every line suggested strength beneath

of art a landscape of curves and shadows, inviting the imagination to wander,

time she was trying on dresses. Since the hospital where he worked was just around the corner, his cousin had asked him

intended to grab the necklace and head straight out, but as he crossed the lounge, something caught his eye. The doors to the main fitting room were half open, and a woman in a gleaming white gown

just another bride-to-be, and

but after a few steps, something made him pause. That woman in the

for a better

he recognized her. That was Isadora. And there, not far away, stood

spread across Finley's