Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

A wooden sign hung above the shop, painted in faded black and yellow. It wasn't big or small-just cozy enough that every table inside was filled with people.

Isadora slowed her pace and pointed at the storefront. "I want some pudding," she announced to Victor.

Victor eyed the old-fashioned dessert shop with clear skepticism, his nose wrinkling. "Are you sure this place is clean?"

The owner, who had just served a bowl of pudding to another customer, overheard and shot him a disgruntled look.

"Sir, this café has been here twenty years! Our desserts are clean and delicious, with plenty of regulars. Please don't say things like that and ruin my business."

Isadora leaned in, whispering by Victor's ear, "It's just basic manners not to criticize someone's place in front of them."

Oh, so apparently he was the one lacking manners now?

Victor looked down at her. "If you really want pudding, I can have the staff at home make some for you."

She'd never realized before just how old-fashioned he could be.

"I want this one," Isadora insisted.

She looked up at him, her dark eyes shining, soft and pleading in a way that made her seem impossibly young and earnest.

Victor couldn't resist those gorgeous eyes. Defeated, he pulled out his phone and scanned the code to pay.

A moment later, the owner handed her a generous helping of pudding, topped with a layer of caramelized sugar. "Here you go, miss."

Isadora took a spoonful and tasted it—the custard was silky, sweet, and brought back memories she didn't know she missed.

Without thinking, she scooped up another bite and lifted it to Victor's lips.

He stood there, tall and impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, looking entirely out of place amid the cozy clutter of the little café. Reluctantly, he parted his lips and let her feed him.

Isadora couldn't help but grin.

It was as if some privileged prince was being forced to come down to earth and try out the common joys of life.noveldrama

They wandered on, exploring the busy street.

Of course, not everything caught Victor's approval.

Whenever Isadora's gaze lingered on something he deemed too unhealthy, he'd immediately and decisively steer her past it, not giving her a chance to protest.

After a while, with her stomach somewhat satisfied, Isadora spotted an ice cream stand.

"No way," Victor said, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

His flat rejection only made her more stubborn. "Ever since I got pregnant, haven't had soda, coffee, or even a single milkshake. You have no idea how hard it is, watching my coworkers sip on their lattes every afternoon. Now you won't even let me have a single scoop of ice cream? I swear, you care more about the baby than you do about

me."

Victor looked flustered for a moment. "Piggy Vaughan, let's be fair here. I only

care about the baby because I care about you."

"So will you let me have it or not?"

This was their first child, and Victor still erred on the side of caution.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number, not bothering with niceties.

"Can pregnant women eat ice cream?"

A sluggish voice answered on the other end, "If it's Isa? A little bit is fine. Just don't overdo it."

Most people would just check Google. But Victor had his own personal, long- suffering doctor on speed-dial.

With the all-clear, Isadora picked a scoop of vanilla ice cream with a hint of lavender.

She took her first bite-the first ice cream she'd tasted in four months. It wasn't even about craving it so much, it was just that the more she was told she couldn't have O something, the more she wanted it.

Damn rebellious streak.

Victor trailed after her as they walked down the street. The evening breeze caught

her hair, making it ripple like waves behind her.

She ate her ice cream, her eyes

sparkling with delight, her lips curvedan a quiet smile-looking for all the world like a little girl, even though she was soon to be a mother.

Victor watched her, his gaze softening. He smiled to himself.

So what if she was a little girl at heart? She could be his little girl for the rest of their lives.

He strode forward, slipping an arm around her slender waist. His eyes were warm, and as he looked at her, he gently wiped a trace of cream from the corner of her mouth.

On the busy street, Isadora felt the warmth of his touch linger on her skin, her cheeks tinged with a delicate pink.