NovelEnglishChapter 3 Victor Fitzgerald-the heir to the Fitzgerald Group had arrived.
If Magnus Wainwright and his family's conglomerate, Wainwright Holdings, ranked among the top three in Capitolion's elite circles, then the Fitzgerald Group was undisputedly number one.- What began as a banking dynasty had quickly expanded-real estate, technology, telecommunications, investment funds. The Fitzgerald family's reach stretched across more than half the industries in Capitolion.
In private, everyone called Victor the Crown Prince of Capitolion.
Isadora had met him once before. The Vaughan family, her own, was currently bidding on a major project with the Fitzgerald Group, and she was one of the project leads.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtBut right now, Isadora had no tto worry about her dignity.
Clinging to the last shreds of consciousness, she reached out and grabbed the cuff of his tailored trousers. "Vi... Victor, please... help me." Victor's gaze darkened when he saw the woman collapsed at his feet.
Her blue-and-white dress was dirty and disheveled, revealing smooth, pale legs streaked with blood where her delicate feet had been cut. A feverish flush colored her cheeks, and Victor's frown deepened.
Without another word, he bent down and scooped her into his arms.
All Isadora could sense was the cool, crisp scent of pine that seemed to envelop her-chilling, but somehow safe. Victor settled her gently into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind her. He leaned against the car, lazily rolling up his sleeves and unclasping a watch worth more than most people's homes.
As three burly men barrelled toward him, Victor shot them a glacial look.
"Were you the ones who drugged her?" His voice was quiet, almost casual, but it cut through the night like ice.
Ten minutes later.
Victor slid into the driver's seat, stripped off his blood-spattered black dress shirt, and tossed it out the window. His torso was all muscle and clean lines, tapering down to a narrow waist and disappearing into his dark slacks. In the passenger seat, Isadora lay with her eyes closed, sweat beading her brow, her lips bitten red from trying to stifle the pain.
Victor watched her for a long moment, eyes shadowed, before pulling out his phone. He dialed.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm"Half an hour. Get to the villa out by the western shore. Bring medicine." On the other end was Finley Pembroke, director of Capitolion's largest private hospital, and Victor's oldest friend. Finley groaned. "Con, Crown Prince. Even if I put pedal to the metal, it's a two-hour drive from Capitolion to the coast. What do you think I am, skind of magician with a teleportation device?" Victor's lips curved in a lazy, lopsided grin. "Remind me, is your private jet just for show?" Finley was silent for a beat. So, someone was in trouble-and Victor wanted him there, immediately.
Was he really doomed to be the long-suffering doctor at the beck and call of a notorious CEO?
Victor hung up and gripped the steering wheel, swinging the car around. The Porsche tore down the deserted coastal road like a bolt of lightning. Soon, they pulled up to a gleaming white villa overlooking the sea. Victor had barely parked when something soft and warm collided with him.
Isadora's unfocused eyes fluttered open, her mind swimming in dizzy, feverish waves. Heat pulsed through her body-her dress strap had slipped off her arm, baring one perfect shoulder.
Without warning, she crawled over the center console and straddledn him, her delicate hand roaming across Victor's chest. The tight confines of the Porsche's driver's seat were suddenly filled with electric tension.
Victor swallowed hard, one arm circling her slender waist, the other gripping her chin.
He forced her to meet his dark, searching gaze, voice rough as gravel. "Isadora, do you know who I am?" She was barely lucid now, but sdistant flicker of memory remained.
She smiled a slow, sultry curve of her lips, her lashes fluttering, exuding a dangerous kind of allure.
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