Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 226

Victor gazed at the woman nestled in his arms, her delicate charm so irresistible that, for once, he felt like teasing her. His voice, softer and lazier than usual, held a hint of a smile as he murmured, “I’m sorry, my little princess.”

Isadora seized the moment, her slender finger poking his chest as she put on an exaggeratedly wounded pout. “You’re always so mean to me…”

Victor’s dark eyes softened, her reflection shimmering in their depths. The corners of his mouth quirked up. “Alright, I admit it. I was wrong.”

“And?” She pressed.

“And…” Victor started, but before he could finish, Isadora let her thoughts drift, resting her head on his chest. Within moments, she had dozed off.

Victor chuckled quietly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He pressed his chin gently to the top of her head, his voice low and certain. “And, Isadora, I love you.”

*

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft stripes across the room.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of a cellphone alarm shattered the peaceful hush.

Hungover, Isadora felt drained and foggy, her mind still swimming somewhere between dreams and waking. Too tired to care, she reached blindly for her phone on the nightstand.

Before she could grab it, a strong arm reached across her and silenced the alarm.

It took Isadora several seconds to process what was happening. Slowly, she opened her bleary eyes, only to find herself face-to-face with the sharp line of a man’s jaw.

Her gaze traveled upward—Victor’s eyes were closed, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, his sleeping face as annoyingly handsome as ever.

Only then did she realize she had been clinging tightly to his bare, muscular torso.

That woke her right up. She bolted upright in bed, last night’s memories coming back only in hazy fragments. She remembered drinking—a lot—and then… nothing.

“You—what are we—how did this happen?” she stammered.

Victor, still half asleep, rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, ignoring her.

His broad back, tanned skin, and loose pajama pants only added to his lazy, unbothered aura—tempting and infuriating all at once.

Isadora nudged his arm. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

Victor groaned, clearly annoyed. “This is my house, remember?”

She pressed, “Did you… did you do anything to me?”