Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus) novel Chapter 50

“What’s your condition?”

Victor’s lips curled up, his words slow and deliberate. “Break up with Magnus. Stay far away from him.”

Isadora had ended things with Magnus ages ago, though nobody seemed willing to believe it.

Was this just another case of a man’s damned possessiveness?

Victor and Magnus were the heirs to two of Capitolion’s most powerful and bitterly opposed dynasties. Maybe Victor just couldn’t stand the idea of a woman he’d been with still being tangled up with his greatest rival.

Isadora nodded, agreeing without hesitation. “Fine. I’ll break up with him.”

Victor narrowed his eyes, clearly surprised by how quickly she’d acquiesced.

He studied her closely, searching her face for any hint of hidden emotion—but got nothing.

Suddenly, a sharp bark shattered the tension in the garden.

Startled, Isadora instinctively pushed Victor away, worried someone might see them—even though this was Stratus Manor, and everyone here was on Victor’s side. Still, she couldn’t shake her discomfort.

She smoothed her dress and ran a hand through her hair, trying to regain her composure.

A big, fluffy golden retriever—freshly bathed, its white fur practically glowing—came bounding across the lawn toward them.

“Woof! Woof! Woof!”

Behind the dog, Beatty jogged after it, breathless and flustered. “Slow down, Pudding! Wait up!”

Watching that living ball of fluff tear across the grass like a streak of lightning, Isadora instinctively reached out her arms.

For the second time that day, she was nearly bowled over by an enthusiastic, full-speed collision.

But this time, instead of falling backward, Victor caught her—and the dog—in one swift, steady motion, holding both securely in his arms.

He hefted her a bit, and with a teasing hint of disdain, remarked, “Isadora, do you ever eat? You’re skinnier than Pudding.”

Skinny? She called this healthy.

She was five foot five and nearly a hundred pounds—perfectly average, thank you very much.

“Mr. Fitzgerald, you clearly don’t understand. This is what we call the ideal figure,” Isadora shot back.

“Is that so?” Victor raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I think you could stand to put on a little weight. It’d make you even nicer to hold.”

The nerve of this man!