A haze of smoke blurred the woman''s features.


    Yet her sultry gaze could draw anyone in with a single nce-she was almost otherworldly, like a modern-day siren.


    Isadora recognized her instantly: she was the woman who''d just been dancing with Victor.


    Without a word, Isadora kept walking, letting the silence linger between them as she tried to pass.


    Suddenly, a delicate hand reached out and blocked her path.


    "Miss Vaughan, isn''t it? I''m the heiress of Mary M Boutique," the woman purred. Her voice was as enticing as her eyes, made husky by too many cigarettes.


    Isadora paused, turning to meet her. "Can I help you?"


    "What exactly is your rtionship with Fitzgerald?”


    Isadora frowned. "I don''t see how that''s any of your business."


    Mary exhaled a slow stream of smoke, the already cramped corridor thickening with the scent.


    Isadora took a cautious step back.


    "I''ve set my sights on him," Mary dered. "Whatever you two have going on, I want him. I want to sleep with him."


    The brazen admission unsettled Isadora.


    "Mary, maybe you should tell him that yourself. I''m afraid I can''t help you."


    Mary smirked. "You don''t mind? My intuition says you two have already slept together."


    Do all women in Northmarch speak this bluntly? Isadora wondered, her difort showing.


    Mary grinned mischievously. "Don''t get me wrong, I''m not looking for a


    rtionship. Just tell me how is he in bed? He doesn''t exactly strike me as the cold, disinterested type."


    Isadora had no idea why this woman thought Victor might be frigid. The directness was infuriating.


    "Seven times in one night," Isadora replied coolly. "What do you think?"


    Mary''s eyes lit up. "Oh my god, just my type!"


    "Too bad you won''t get the chance."


    With that, Isadora stalked off, frustration simmering beneath herposure.


    After the music faded, the party gradually picked up again clinking sses,ughter, and endless rounds of wine.


    The conversation among the well-heeled guests drifted back to world economics. Victor and Magnus stood together on the sidelines.


    Someone called out, "Cheers!"


    But neither Victor nor Magnus raised their sses. The tension between them was palpable-hostile, electric.


    Magnus spoke in a low, ice-cold voice. "Victor, I want you to stay away from Isadora."


    Victor swirled his wine,zy and unconcerned. "Did you enjoy the show that night?"


    Magnus gritted his teeth. "You knew I was there."


    Victor clicked his tongue. "Free movie for you, and you don''t even have anyments? Disappointing."


    "Hah!" Magnus let out a bitterugh. "You''re so underhanded and twisted, Isadora could never truly care for someone like you."


    Instead of anger, Victor just smirked, his smile edged with menace.


    "Would you really want to watch her fall for me? Sorry, I don''t put on private shows."


    The implication was unmistakable.


    Magnus drained his ss in one go, fingers clenched tight around the stem.


    Victor cocked an eyebrow and patted him on the shoulder.


    "Mr. Wainwright, if you want to win her over, you''d better hurry. She''s already gone."


    When Isadora emerged from the restroom, she scanned the crowd, but Victor- the man who seemed to attract trouble wherever he went-was nowhere to be seen.


    Nte approached, grinning. "Wow, Mr. Fitzgerald is quite the charmer. He just swooped in and stole you from Magnus."


    "If it were you, I wouldn''t call it a pleasure. More like a shock," Isadora retorted.


    Nte tilted her chin toward Mary, who was lurking nearby. "Better keep an eye on your prince. Looks like he has another admirer circling."


    But Isadora wasn''t Mrs. Fitzgerald. What right did she have to keep an eye on him?


    Lost in thought, her phone buzzed. A new message from Victor shed on the screen:


    Come outside.