Isadora''s hand slipped, and her phone tumbled to the floor.
A woman''s voice was stilling through the speaker, but Isadora ended the call on reflex.
Maybe it was just an ident.
She tried to reassure herself, but her fingers trembled on the steering wheel.
For a long moment, Isadora just sat there, folding her hands over the wheel and lowering her head against it, lost in silent, tangled thoughts.
From outside the car, the interior looked dim and shadowed. Her slender figure was hunched in the driver''s seat, shoulders shaking ever so slightly with quiet despair.
***
Across the Antic, in Solstrand.
Victor emerged from the bathroom wearing gray lounge pants, a ck sweater thrown on carelessly, and a towel draped around his neck. His hair was damp and a bit tousled.
He paused when he saw the tall woman in the living room, dressed in a crisp white shirt and jeans.
Victor''s handsome brow furrowed, his expression darkening. "What are you doing here?"
It was Nannie Hayes.
She was the daughter of the Fitzgeralds'' old chauffeur-the man who had once sacrificed himself to save Victor''s mother during a kidnapping. In gratitude, Mrs. Fitzgerald had taken responsibility for Nannie, supporting her and providing for her ever since.
That one event had changed the entire course of Nannie''s life.
She and Victor were close in age, and as a child, Nannie had often yed with him, always at his side. If you squinted, you could almost call them childhood friends, though in truth, it was a bond more precious to Nannie than to Victor. Most of the time, she simply watched him quietly from afar.
To the Fitzgeralds, Nannie was almost like a chess piece: as long as she obeyed, prosperity and privilege were hers. But one day, this loyal pawn developed feelings she shouldn''t have.
When Mrs. Fitzgerald found out, she sent Nannie abroad. Nearly ten years had passed since she''dst been home.
Today, she was only here because the olddy had called, asking her to deliver something—and, perhaps, to take care of a few other matters.
Nannie looked at the man before her.
He was as breathtaking as ever: sharply defined features, a strong nose, and those hooded eyes that always held a hint of mischief. Nothing about him had changed.
Just one nce, and she felt her heart beat back to life.
But she couldn''t let the olddy see through her feelings, not anymore.
Nannie managed a small smile. "Mrs. Fitzgerald asked me to check on you. She was worried you''d get so caught up in work that you''d forget to eat or sleep."
She set the insted container on the table.
Victor ran the towel once more through his damp hair, tossed it into theundry basket, and, without sparing her another look, asked, "Was that my phone ringing just now?"
Nannie ducked her head, ufortable. "Yes. I was going to bring it to you, but the call ended before I got there."
Victor spun his phone between his long fingers, his gaze turning cold. "Unless it''s important, don''te here unannounced again."
Nannie stood quietly, obedient as ever. "Understood."
He sank into the couch, letting his arm drape over the backrest, solid muscles shifting beneath the fabric. Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting his face in shifting patterns of gold and shadow.
Victor nced at the phone screen. For a beat, his tired, indifferent eyes flickered with surprise.
Isadora had actually called him of her own ord.
That was new.
Victor was about to call her back when he looked up and saw Nannie still standing there, head bowed.
His voice was cool and careless, sharp as ice water. "Is there something else?”
She''d finished her errand; he was clearly dismissing her.
Nannie knew she should leave, but after so many years apart, she lingered, reluctant to go.
"I heard you''re getting engaged. Congrattions."
Victor lounged against the sofa, one arm stretched along the back, lean muscles outlined beneath the sweater. His gaze was piercing as he studied her.