Isadora had just opened her mouth to say something, but his words cut through the air, leaving her frozen in ce.


    It was her first car ident.


    Not only that—she''d ended up face to face with a menacing, bald thug threatening her at the scene.


    Now, instead of offeringfort, Victor''s voice was cold, almost usatory.


    If it hadn''t been for that interview, she never would have lost focus.


    If she hadn''t spaced out, none of this would have happened tonight.


    The more she thought about it, the more the resentment-pressed down all evening-curled around her chest like creeping vines.


    Her throat tightened, a faint burn rising behind her eyes.


    But she pressed her teeth into her lower lip, refusing to let go.


    "I know I caused you trouble today. I''m sorry, Mr. Fitzgerald. It won''t happen again."


    Victor''s brows knit together.


    He hadn''t even raised his voice.


    Yet she acted like she couldn''t wait to distance herself from him.


    He''d only meant to remind her to be careful behind the wheel.


    This time, things had turned out fine.


    But what about next time?


    He remembered how cold he''d felt the moment he got her call about the ident.


    For the first time, fear and worry had crashed over him, relentless as a tidal wave, leaving him struggling to breathe.


    He couldn''t even remember how many red lights he''d run on his way here.


    Not until he saw her, safe and sound in the car, did that knife-edge tension finally slip away.


    Victor let out a soft sigh. "Why are you crying? I wasn''t the one who crashed into you."


    Isadora''s lips pressed together in stubborn defiance.


    "I''m not crying. What makes you think I''m crying?"


    Her eyes might be a little red, but there were no tears-she wouldn''t cry.


    This? This was nothing.


    She''d been through far worse growing up.


    Victor''s mouth quirked into a wry smile. He reached over and gently pinched her earlobe.


    Her ears were small and delicate-cool to the touch.


    "I can see it with both eyes. At this rate, anyone would think I''m the bad guy here." Isadora red at him. "You are the bad guy."


    Victor''s voice dropped, velvet-smooth and low, with a hint of fondness. He coaxed gently, "Miss Vaughan, you want eighty million in investment? I''ll wire it over right now. You want the contract for M Boutique? It''s yours. Where else are you going to find such a cooperative man?"


    Cooperative? Please.


    There was no such thing as a truly cooperative man.


    Every time he did her a favor, there were always strings attached.


    Isadora rolled her eyes, her voice soft and without even realizing it-tinged withint. "And yet you still scold me."


    Scold? That was scolding?


    He almostughed. Women''s logic really did run on a different track.


    Victor bent down, bracing his hands on either side of her hospital bed, boxing her in.


    His dark eyes locked onto hers, deep as midnight, pinning her in ce. "Clearly, I''m a viin of the highest order. How about you punish me?"


    He was so close now-handsome, smiling just a little, and in those bright eyes, she could see her own reflection.


    His gaze was so intense, so fathomless, it pulled her in like a whirlpool. Isadora broke eye contact with a huff. "As if I''d dare punish you, Mr. Fitzgerald."


    Victor''s lips ghosted along her cheek, then he nipped yfully at her earlobe, murmuring, “If you won''t punish me, I guess I''ll have to do it myself. Guess I''ll have to take the penalty-tonight, I''ll help you shower. And then I''ll have to stay and make sure you fall asleep."


    Isadora: "..."