Chapter 297

Isadora couldn't help but raise her voice in protest.

"Mr. Fitzgerald, you're the one who bought all this stuff!"

Victor let out a low, dismissive chuckle. "It was pretty expensive. Make sure you leave me the bill."

"Victor!" Isadora called his name, exasperation slipping into her tone.

She stood up, jaw clenched.

"Fine. I'll go pack it up myself, and we'll settle up later."

She hung up.

Isadora pulled off her pajamas and changed into a plain white tee and a pair of jeans, tossing a mid-length brown coat over her shoulders a look that was crisp and no-nonsense.

She hailed a cab and headed straight for Summit Crest Estates.

Half an hour later,

She stepped out of the taxi and took the elevator up to the 66th floor.

The elevator chimed softly as the doors slid open.

Isadora walked out slowly.

Every chandelier in the living room blazed with warm, golden light.

Beyond the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, the city's neon lights shimmered

their reflections dancing across

room was empty. The penthouse was

stood at

sound of heavy footsteps echoed from down the

Step by step-

broad-shouldered man emerge from one of the rooms, moving with a

been at The Fitzgerald Group earlier that

Italian black shirt and suit

setting had

his own home, the sharp severity he'd worn all day

straight to the

of whiskey from the shelf,

motion, the sound of his throat working strangely alluring in the quiet room. His dark eyes fixed unflinchingly on Isadora where she stood by

silence, she spoke

here to collect my

smile flickered across Victor's lips. "What, do you need an invitation to come

back a

"Right. Sorry to intrude."

that, she

she'd left

penthouse, once devoid of any sign of life,

that she'd actually lived

headed to the storage room

living room to the bedroom, tossing in anything

he stood, expression unreadable, eyes trailing over the slim line of

packed with brisk efficiency, showing not a hint of

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