Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Chapter 361

Preston gasped for air, pain radiating from where Finley had just kicked him.

"It's a misunderstanding... a complete misunderstanding," he stammered.

Finley snorted. "A misunderstanding? Then what were you doing in a hotel room you had no business being in, huh?"

Without waiting for an answer, Finley drew back his foot and slammed it into Preston's stomach with every ounce of strength he had.

Preston's slightly pudgy belly caved in under the blow, and he rolled across the floor, writhing in agony. His face turned a sickly shade of blue, and sweat poured down his forehead in thick, glistening drops.

The women nearby shrank back in terror, their faces drained of color.

The door to the private lounge had been left open, and the commotion quickly drew a crowd. Guests gathered in the hallway, eager for a glimpse of the spectacle.

Doris, the beloved daughter of the owner of The Gilded Lily-one of Capitolion's most exclusive clubs-heard the uproar and hurried over, anxiety etched on her face. This was a place frequented by the city's elite: old-money magnates, corporate powerhouses, and people who valued discretion above all. If the fight escalated, it could tarnish the club's reputation. And then what would become of their business?

icy detachment. Maybe, she thought, he'd remember

on her most gracious smile, and approached him with practiced poise. "Victor, there must be some misunderstanding here. Why don't we

Doris as the woman who'd poured Victor a drink

her way, his voice devoid of

slipping. In this place, every man usually hung on her every word. She shot Isadora a venomous look, as if blaming

out his hand and stepped

cold

Finley nodded. "Yeah."

strode forward, planted his boot firmly on Preston's head asdf crushing something worthless, and spoke in a low, chilling voice. I'm a fair man. Anyone who wrongs me pays it back-one way or

the sight of Victor looming over

your ex. She said even if something happened, you wouldn't

shot a sharp look at Isadora, his brow knit in

went glacial. He pressed his foot down harder, the sharp toe of his Italian shoe digging