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. Someone

pressed her

Victor's voice on

wasn't as if this was news to

as Victor Fitzgerald

in

unsettled her, deep

was afraid—afraid of falling into another relationship, helpless to stop herself, only to end up broken all

the romance, but never give your

the man standing

hair, his features were striking-every line clean and chiseled, his brows arched, and those

not

to give you a gift tonight,” she

eyes lit up, locking

low. "Oh? What made you

Vaughan Galleria. I've been promoted to director, so I wanted

gaze dimmed

just for a moment, that she was falling

read too much

not really his style, anyway-since when did Mr. Fitzgerald need to beg

his arm around her, hugging her tightly to his chest, his chin resting in her hair. "Miss Vaughan, you really are

and secure; the crisp,

let

nestled against him, her head against his

his heartbeat-steady, strong, as if

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