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.

damages. Someone like that didn't deserve to

her

voice on the

this

Victor Fitzgerald keep an

something in her

unsettled her,

relationship, helpless to stop herself, only to

Enjoy the romance, but never

lifted her gaze to the

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, with a wicked, alluring tilt to their

impossible not to be drawn

you

locking onto

voice dropped, husky and low. "Oh? What made you decide to give me

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

gaze dimmed a

moment, that she was falling for

too

did Mr. Fitzgerald need to

her tightly to his chest,

crisp, woodsy scent of his

decided, she'd let herself fall just

nestled against him, her

could hear his heartbeat-steady, strong, as if it echoed in

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