Chapter 132

Is this punishment for him—or for herself?

Once again, she'd fallen into this man's clever trap.

Warm breath brushed her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

Isadora pressed her palm to his chest, her skin burning hot. She felt awkward, flustered, wanting to ignore him.

Victor reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. His touch was soft, almost reverent.

"What were you thinking about back then?" he asked quietly.

From the surveillance footage Director Lawson had sent over, the sequence was clear.

The truck driver took the corner full speed, never slowing down.

There was a brief moment, too, when Isadora lost focus at the wheel.

By the book, both drivers shared responsibility for the accident.

But Isadora's Mercedes was mangled, the damage far worse than the truck's.

And she'd been hurt more badly.

Plus, that scumbag of a man-how dare he frighten her like that?

A cold glint flashed in Victor's eyes as he recalled the scene.

and emotional damages.

her

distracted: she'd heard Victor's voice on the radio,

this

someone as free-spirited, rebellious as Victor Fitzgerald keep an old photograph sitting on his

something in her had

realization unsettled her,

afraid—afraid of falling into another relationship, helpless to stop herself, only to

romance, but never give your heart. Wasn't that

to the man standing

his sharp, cropped hair, his features were striking-every line clean and chiseled, his brows arched, and those narrow, fox-like eyes, dark and magnetic,

not to be

planned to give you

locking

What made you decide to give me a

I've been

dimmed

just for a moment, that she was falling for his

he'd read too much into

when did Mr. Fitzgerald need to beg

her tightly to his chest, his chin resting

the crisp, woodsy scent of

Isadora decided, she'd let herself fall just a

him, her

heartbeat-steady, strong, as if it

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