Victor tapped the notification and opened the chat without thinking. Suddenly, that message-just four words: *"Thunder scares me."*


    The words hit Victor hard, catching himpletely off guard as they lit up the darkness of his gaze.


    His fingertips hovered over those words glowing on the cold ss of his phone.


    He didn''t remember ever receiving this message.


    That day, his father had suffered a sudden stroke. Victor had rushed to the hospital to donate blood, leaving his phone and clothes with the housekeeper.


    Now, silence pressed in all around him.


    Across the kitchen, Isadora was ting a perfectly seared steak onto a white dish. "Isadora," Victor''s voice was rough, low.


    She nced over her shoulder. "What''s wrong?"


    Victor''s arm tightened around her slender waist.


    Without another word, he scooped her up and settled her onto the clean marble counter beside him, so they were face to face.


    His eyes were dark, unwavering as he looked at her at first calm and deep, then slowly flickering with emotion. His voice dropped even lower. "That night... I didn''t know you wanted me toe back."


    Isadora blinked, her dark eyes wide and clear.


    His words yanked her back to that lonely evening: sitting alone at the table, mustering up the courage to send that message.


    "It''s okay," she said softly. "You told me your grandfather was sick. I understood."


    Regret shed in Victor''s eyes. He murmured, "I''m sorry."


    He''d thought it was just another night he hadn''te home.


    He hadn''t realized she''d been waiting, hoping he''de back, sending him that message.


    Those two things weren''t the same at all.


    Isadora tried to smile, but it came out strained. "It''s fine. It''s in the past, isn''t it?"


    Victor''s gaze softened. He reached up, cupped the back of her neck, and kissed her-urgent, almost desperate.


    He bit gently at her lip, deepening the kiss, his warmth seeping right into her nerves. Breathless, mouth still pressed to hers, he whispered, "Silly girl."


    His breath was warm against her skin.


    Isadora''s eyshes trembled. Her heart felt like it might melt.


    They''d kissed countless times before.


    But somehow, this kiss-tinged with apology-unsettled her the most.


    Isadora''s lips parted. She murmured something.


    Victor didn''t catch it. He leaned in, ear close. "What was that?"


    She said, "We haven''t eaten yet."


    Victor''s eyes darkened. His hand slipped beneath the hem of her nightshirt,


    tracing gentle circles along the smooth skin of her back.


    "Isadora, right now I just want to taste you first."


    Heat, thick and heady, filled the kitchen.


    Desire, regret, affection—all tangled together, impossible to separate.


    Isadora gasped, unable to hold back.


    "Isadora."


    She opened her eyes, dazed and shining with tears. "Mmm...?"


    "From now on," Victor said, "if I don''t answer your message, or if you don''t like my reply, just call me. Don''t wait-call me and check."


    "Okay."


    ***


    Seafarer Designs.


    Isadora strode in, tall and graceful, dressed in a ck-and-white houndstooth Chanel cardigan, skinny blue jeans, and five-centimeter heels. She looked every bit the picture of effortless style.


    Wendy gave her a second, appreciative nce.


    "Isadora, you look fantastic today. Have a good night or something?"


    Isadora''s eyes sparkled as she smiled. "Nosy."


    Just then, Rowena emerged from her office, looking tense.


    She''d finally decided to stand up to Abbott, but fear still gnawed at her.


    What if, in the next instant, thosepromising photos of her were sted all over Capitolion?


    The thought had kept her awake all night.


    Compared to Isadora''s healthy glow, Rowena''s anxiety was written all over her face.


    Isadora handed her a folder.


    "I''ve got everything on Abbott-tax evasion, illegal business practices, you name it. All the evidence we need."