Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

The men in the private suite finally got down to business.

The entire conversation revolved around the development of a lucrative plot of land on the southern outskirts of Capitolion-and just how many millions it would take to make it happen.

Everyone present made a show of deference to Victor, the young "prince" of the group, eager to let The Fitzgerald Group take the lead on the project. But as the discussion shifted, it became clear that Preston's interests might be at stake.

Rowena felt Preston's hand tighten suddenly around her waist, so hard it made her gasp.

He shot her an irritated glance. "What's wrong with you?"

She stiffened, forcing a strained smile. "Nothing."

It was obvious Preston was in a foul mood, but with Victor there, he had to bite his tongue and instead took it out on her.

With a cold, almost predatory smirk, Preston leaned in and murmured, "If you're this sensitive from just a squeeze, how are you going to make it through tonight?" Mr. Lennox, seated nearby, raised his eyebrows and drawled suggestively, "Come on, Preston, she's a delicate one. Try not to break her."

The men's banter made Rowena's face pale even further. She shot a furtive glance toward Victor-thankfully, he wasn't paying them any attention, which let her breathe just a little easier, though resentment simmered beneath her relief.

The conversation eventually wound down. When she saw Victor answer a call and step outside, Rowena seized her chance. She ran her fingers lightly along Preston's chest. "Mr. Dunbar, I need to use the restroom."

He grunted. "You're not thinking of running off, are you?"

"Of course not. I came here tonight just to see you," she replied, her tone sweet but her mind already scheming.

She wasn't trying to escape-not exactly. She was looking to trade up. After all, of everyone in that suite, Victor Fitzgerald was the one with real power. Why waste her time on a bloated, middle-aged married man like Preston, when she could aim for the very top?

If she could get close to Victor, Preston would never dare to cross her, not with Victor's influence. And the look on Isadora's face would be priceless.

Just the thought made her giddy.

The hallway outside the Verdant Pavilion was bathed in dim golden light, the air thick with the scent of liquor and a charged, intimate energy.

Rowena hurried out, catching sight of Victor finishing his call and preparing to leave.

Without hesitating, she yanked down her dress strap to reveal a pale

1.n

shoulder and thanks to the deep neckline, a tantalizing hint of cleavage. She stumbled forward, voice trembling with just the right amount of vulnerability.

"Mr. Fitzgerald, please-you have to help me!"

Victor looked up at the sound of her plea, his gaze landing on the nearly disheveled woman running toward him. He frowned.

As she flung herself at him, Victor stepped aside with perfect composure.

Thud. Instead of falling into a man's warm embrace, Rowena crashed face-first into the wall, her shoulder instantly reddening from the impact.

"What exactly do you want me to save you from?" Victor's voice was flat, entirely devoid of sympathy.

Rowena bit her lip, turning to face him with reddened eyes, the perfect picture of helpless seduction. "Mr. Fitzgerald, I didn't want to bother you, but I have no one else. Mr Dunbar forced me to come here

tonight. If you don't help me, I'm afraid he'll-he'll do something awful to me..."

Victor's expression didn't even flicker. His eyes were ice-cold, his words evennoveldrama

colder: "That's not my problem."

Rowena blinked, thrown by his utter

indifference. A wave of jealousy

surgege

and poisonous, and

she blurted out, "Is Isadora the only woman you see?" fo

Victor's lips twisted into a mocking, frosty smile. "Ms. Blaine, you're overstepping."