Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Chapter 425

Isadora stepped into the Fitzgerald estate, where a housekeeper informed her that Victor was out back playing with Pudding. Without hesitation, she headed straight for the garden.

As she made her way down the long hallway, Isadora glanced ahead and to her surprise, Finley was there too.

He greeted her with a warm smile. "Isa, it's been ages."

She couldn't help but linger on him for a moment, curiosity piqued—especially now that he was dating Nanette. "Didn't expect to see you here today," she remarked.

Finley nodded. "Just came by to give Pudding a check-up."

At the mention of Pudding, Isadora's concern flickered. The dog was getting old, and she worried about his health. "Is Pudding okay?"

"Don't worry," Finley replied with an easy grin. "It's just a routine check-up. He's as lively as ever-he's still got a few good years left in him."

Relieved, Isadora smiled. "That's good to hear."

Off to the side, Victor watched the exchange with a furrowed brow. Since Isadora had arrived, she'd been chatting with Finley nonstop-completely ignoring him. He shot Finley a cold look and, in a tone that left no room for argument, said, "Aren't you leaving?"

Finley blinked, a little taken aback. No invitation to dinner-just getting kicked out?

to himself, Some friend you are. Got a wife now and the brotherhood

Isadora. "Isa, I've got to run.

away in less than

Though his posture was relaxed, his face was completely devoid of expression as he stared at his phone. The garden was awash with sunlight and

walked over to

answer, the shifting light from his screen casting sharp angles on his chiseled face, making his features look

all this time together, Isadora could tell Victor was annoyed

a sly smile as she teased, "Ignoring

Still no response.

a step,

tug, she landed squarely in his lap, her cheeks

she whispered, mortified. The garden had four entrances, each guarded by a pair of vigilant housekeepers. They were trained not to stare, but still

novel

embarrassed.

intent as he shifted his grip, threading his fingers through hers. He traced her fingertips, locking their hands together, his voice low and lazy, with a hint of mischief. "What are you worried about? You're the

eyes-there was no winning with him. She decided to

What do you think of him? Especially