Chapter 235

Victor ended his call and stepped into the open-plan kitchen. He filled a ceramic bowl with boiling water, then added a handful of nourishing ingredients, moving with unhurried precision.

Twenty minutes later, the comforting aroma of the soup filled the apartment. It was ready.

In the bedroom, Isadora lay on the bed with her eyes closed. She'd been drifting

in that half-awake, half-asleep state, but now any trace of drowsiness had vanished.

The sound of the bedroom door opening broke the silence.

Heavy footsteps padded across the room-slow, deliberate-drawing closer to the bed.

Her lashes fluttered as she clutched the blanket tighter, not daring to move.

She'd thought he would leave...

But Victor approached, tall and composed, a bowl of steaming soup cradled in his elegant hands. His shadow stretched long across the bed, the soft robe he wore doing little to conceal the restrained, almost monastic masculinity he exuded.

He held the bowl out to her, his tone casual and almost lazy. "I know you're not asleep. Drink this."

Isadora peeked out from under the covers, her wide eyes luminous against the soft spill of hair around her face. The blanket hid most of her features, making her look even more vulnerable-almost childlike.

at the bowl in

the corners of his mouth lifting with a hint

up, reached for the bowl, and drank it in one long

"Thank you,"

his eyes crinkling with a faint, teasing

you're trying to send me away

He wasn't wrong.

what had gotten into him tonight,

hadn't forgotten that night-how coldly

rejection had stung, left her cheeks burning every

Victor felt any guilt, he

lowered himself to the edge of the bed, his dark eyes

a moment, he reached out and rested his palm gently on her abdomen, his voice surprisingly soft.

was large and warm. The simple touch sent a strange shiver up Isadora's spine, and for a

herself to frown, willing her mind

she moved her hand, Victor caught it in his own, wrapping his long

there,

a rare tenderness.

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