Is this punishment for him—or for herself?


    Once again, she''d fallen into this man''s clever trap.


    Warm breath brushed her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.


    Isadora pressed her palm to his chest, her skin burning hot. She felt awkward, flustered, wanting to ignore him.


    Victor reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. His touch was soft, almost reverent.


    "What were you thinking about back then?" he asked quietly.


    From the surveince footage Director Lawson had sent over, the sequence was clear.


    The truck driver took the corner full speed, never slowing down.


    There was a brief moment, too, when Isadora lost focus at the wheel.


    By the book, both drivers shared responsibility for the ident.


    But Isadora''s Mercedes was mangled, the damage far worse than the truck''s.


    And she''d been hurt more badly.


    Plus, that scumbag of a man-how dare he frighten her like that?


    A cold glint shed in Victor''s eyes as he recalled the scene.


    Five million dors for medical bills and emotional damages. Someone like that didn''t deserve to walk away unscathed.


    Isadora pressed her lips together.


    She knew exactly when she''d gotten distracted: she''d heard Victor''s voice on the radio, that single, unforgettable line "It''s the person I''ve always loved."


    It wasn''t as if this was news to her.


    Otherwise, why would someone as free-spirited, rebellious as Victor Fitzgerald keep an old photograph sitting on his desk?


    Isadora realized something in her had changed.


    That realization unsettled her, deep inside.


    She was afraid—afraid of falling into another rtionship, helpless to stop herself, only to end up broken all over again.


    Maybe Nte was right: keep it light, keep it simple. Enjoy the romance, but never give your heart. Wasn''t that the carefree way to love?


    Isadora lifted her gaze to the man standing in front of her.


    Beneath his sharp, cropped hair, his features were striking-every line clean and chiseled, his brows arched, and those narrow, fox-like eyes, dark and maic, with a wicked, alluring tilt to their corners.


    It was almost impossible not to be drawn in.


    "I actually nned to give you a gift tonight,” she admitted.


    Victor''s dark eyes lit up, locking onto her pale, delicate face.


    His voice dropped, husky and low. "Oh? What made you decide to give me a gift?"


    "M Boutique just opened at Vaughan Galleria. I''ve been promoted to director, so I wanted to thank you."


    Victor''s gaze dimmed a little.


    He''d thought, just for a moment, that she was falling for his charm.


    Apparently, he''d read too much into it.


    That''s not really his style, anyway-since when did Mr. Fitzgerald need to beg for anyone''s affection?


    Victor slid his arm around her, hugging her tightly to his chest, his chin resting in her hair. "Miss Vaughan, you really are something."


    His embrace was warm and secure; the crisp, woodsy scent of his cologne enveloped her.


    Tonight, Isadora decided, she''d let herself fall just a little.


    She nestled against him, her head against his chest.


    She could hear his heartbeat-steady, strong, as if it echoed in her own chest.


    Suddenly, she wanted to share something she''d never told anyone.


    "Victor, I wasn''t always so ambitious, you know."


    "I''m sure you''ve heard-just a few years ago, they found me and brought me back to the Vaughan family. My adoptive mother... she wasn''t kind. I thought if I went back, all the hurt would finally heal."


    A bitter smile flickered across Isadora''s lips, then vanished.


    "But by then, the Vaughan family had already moved on without me. So... I had to carve out my own ce."


    Victor''s arm tightened around her waist.


    She made it sound simple, but he could hear the stubbornness-and the ache-in her voice.


    His own voice grew low and intent. "Then, Miss Vaughan, why not find your ce here with me?"


    As he spoke, he took her hand and pressed it to his chest.


    He looked down, meeting her eyes, gaze unwavering.


    Isadora shot him a look and gave his chest a gentle smack.


    "A man''s heart is like ss. If I go in, won''t I just get cut to pieces?"


    "Is that so?" Victor''s eyes darkened, a sly glimmer in his stare. "How would you know if you never try?"


    Isadora''s heart skipped a beat.


    "Oh,e on, you''re interrupting me! Someone like you-born with everything, golden boy of the Fitzgeralds-how could you possibly understand what I''ve lived through?"