Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Chapter 487

Victor couldn't help but find her words amusing.

How did women come up with this kind of logic, anyway?

"Piggy Vaughan, what wild ideas are you cooking up in that head of yours?" he teased, half-grinning. "Is it so hard to believe I just want to do something nice for you?"

Isadora met his gaze, catching the playful glint in his eyes. She felt her own confidence waver, so she flopped back into her seat and deliberately looked away.

"Men always want something in return. I don't want your shares," she huffed.

Victor massaged his forehead, his tone shifting to something gentle and coaxing. "Why not take them? I'm offering them sincerely, you know."

She only scoffed, "I said I don't want them!"

"Then what would make you take them? Do I have to beg?" Victor couldn't remember ever lowering himself like this-pleading with a woman to accept his money.

Isadora had to bite back a smile. After a moment, she replied, lips pressed together to hide her amusement, "It has to be your choice, not because I forced you."

"Yes, yes," Victor relented, giving in with exaggerated earnestness. "I, of my own free will, am offering twenty percent of The Fitzgerald Group to the beautiful and kind Miss Vaughan."

She lifted her chin with a sly little smile. "Well, I suppose, seeing as you're so sincere, I'll just have to accept-though it's such a hardship."

Victor arched a brow, eyes narrowing with bemusement. Why did it feel like he was the one getting swindled here?

drive home, Isadora's stomach

of nightlife they used to frequent. Turning to Victor, who was focused on the road, she announced,

then popped open the center console and handed her two chocolate bars.

How utterly uninspiring.

at the chocolates,

your thing?" Victor asked,

another compartment and produced a small bag stuffed

do you have so much food in here?" she

I had my driver

"I don't want any of

glow of a row of upscale restaurants. He pulled the car over to the

black Ferrari immediately drew the attention of a

me what you want and

unbuckling her

noticed her veering toward a lively market street,

he frowned, he

the heart of

with life-crowds pressed shoulder to shoulder, laughter and chatter blending into a lively din. Everyone seemed to be carrying some delicious treat,

Vol

center of the avenue, a troupe of dancers in elaborate Renaissance costumes performed for the crowd,

up in two strides, draping his