Especially considering this Lamborghini had been customized-the speed waspletely off the charts.


    Isadora gripped the steering wheel tight, her gaze locked on the road ahead, not daring to blink.


    In the passenger seat, Victor couldn''t help but chuckle at her tense, battle-ready posture. His voice was low and teasing. "Honestly, you look more dangerous like this."


    Isadora licked her lips, eyes never leaving the highway. "Don''t talk. Just sit back and rx."


    With that, she mmed her foot down on the gas.


    The engine roared.


    The Lamborghini shot forward like a crazed beast let off its leash.


    They flew down the empty road, the world outside blurring past so fast that


    Isadora could barely distinguish shapes from shadows.


    Her palms were sweating, and she squeezed the wheel even tighter, swallowing hard.


    A few minutes passed.


    Victor''szy drawl drifted over. "Go on, floor it."


    Isadora bit back a curse. "Floor it?!"


    She shot him a wide-eyed look. "You think we''re not going fast enough? There''s a red light up ahead!"


    Victor barely cracked an eyelid, soundingpletely unconcerned. "Oh, I figured you wanted to plow right through it. Otherwise, why aren''t you braking?" Isadora: "..."


    It took her a split second too long to process. Then, with a gasp, she mmed on the brakes.


    Forty minutester, they finally pulled up outside Summit Crest Estates.


    When Isadora climbed out of the car, her legs felt like jelly. She shot a re at the Lamborghini, as if it was the car''s fault for being so wild and reckless.


    "Idiot," she muttered.


    Victor found her flustered expression adorable. He reached over and ruffled her hair, grinning. "You just need more practice. Next time, I''ll show you how it''s done."


    Isadora straightened her hair, rolling her eyes. "Thanks, but I''ll pass."


    Inside the house.


    Isadora immediately shooed Victor toward the bed.


    She hadn''t noticed it in the dark car, but now, with the bedroom lights on, she saw how flushed he was. His entire face-and even his bare arms-were red with fever, radiating heat.


    She couldn''t believe he''d managed to keep it together this long.


    Isadora started to stand up, but Victor caught her hand before she could move away.


    He frowned, voice rough and husky. "Where are you going?"


    She couldn''t help scolding him. "Do you have any idea how high your temperature


    is right now? If it''s not a hundred and two, it''s a miracle!"


    Victor''s lips curled into a faint, feverish smile. "You''re worried about me."


    He guided her hand to his cheek. The heat pulsed through her palm, seeping up her arm, making her shiver.


    She tried to pull away. "Worried, my foot."


    Yanking her hand free, she stood up and marched into the bathroom.


    She grabbed a clean towel from the rack, soaked it in cold water, and wrung it out.


    Back in the bedroom, Victor had


    closed his eyes, brow creased in


    difort. Gone was his usual


    effortless charm; now, he looked almost fragile. The sight tugged at her heart.


    Isadora sat on the edge of the bed and gently pressed the cool towel to his forehead.


    Just then, the doorbell rang.


    She got up and went to answer it.


    Standing outside was Finley, medical bag in hand.


    He paused for a split second at the sight of her, then gave a quick grin. "Hey, Isa.


    Fancy seeing you again."


    Isadora nodded, ushering him inside and leading him to the bedroom.


    Finley nced at Victor and asked, "What''s the situation?"


    Isadora replied, "He''s running a high fever."


    Finley joked, "The guy''s usually built like an Pretty rare to see him


    knocked down by something like this, huh, Isa? Maybe he''s just


    angling for sympathy."


    Before the words were even out of his mouth, Victor cracked open one eye and


    fixed Finley with a sharp look.


    "I had no idea you''d developed such a vivid imagination, Finley. Hmm?"