Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Chapter 110

The tension between them was palpable, as if someone had struck a match and set their tempers ablaze.

Suddenly, an obnoxiously loud ringtone sliced through the thick silence, startling them both.

Victor glanced at his phone with casual indifference, then shot a quick, cool look at Isadora's pale, porcelain face.

Her expression was a touch severe, eyes quietly defiant in a way most people would miss.

Letting go of her chin, Victor stood up, his long legs carrying him to the marble balcony outside. He answered the call with a flick of his wrist.

Isadora lowered her gaze and continued picking at her dinner, but her eyes would stray to the glass window, watching Victor's tall silhouette framed by the night.

He cut an imposing figure out there-broad-shouldered, long-limbed, dressed in black. Usually, he carried himself with a sort of careless charm, even a hint of mischief. But now, something cold and unapproachable radiated from him—an aloofness that kept everyone at arm's length.

Isadora had to admit it: she wasn't ready to open her heart to someone new just yet.

She thought back-what would she have done if Magnus had been upset with her?

No, with Magnus, she would have soothed him before he even had the chance to frown.

She'd never let him be angry for long; she'd bend over backwards to keep him happy, always attentive and thoughtful.

exactly why she wanted

the balcony, and wondered if she should stop dragging the

retriever, seemed

rib on his plate, but it suddenly didn't

soft bark, Pudding seemed to

his head. "Good boy. I think

pressed his fuzzy head into her palm, offering quiet

table, her eyes lingering on

let a half-dead ex

fork and pushed back her chair. Step

Victor's voice drifted in, low

without me, you can't get this

bunch of freeloaders? How

breathe, silenced by Victor's scathing tirade. No one dared

even in worse situations, he'd never lost his temper like this before. Now,

eye, Victor saw Isadora's slim figure

phone, "That's it. I

heartbeat later, Isadora's soft white arms wound around his waist,

mellow, like wine soaked in summer fruit-a softness he wasn't used to, something that made his

question, and the irritation