Page 100 of Her Ruin

Rye laughed. “Whoa, my fucking god, the tension! I need popcorn. Who has popcorn?” he asked, looking around, and I leaned back with a smirk.

I heard the telltale clip of heels on marble, and then I saw my lawyer walking towards us.

“All right, I already know this has turned into a dick-measuring contest,” she snapped as she stepped right into the detective’s face. She squinted. “I know you.” I watched her think about it. “Didn’t you have lung cancer?”

“Liver,” I corrected. “He’s losing the battle.”

Mick glared at me. “We have a warrant, and we will search it all.”

She nodded. “Well, no point searching only half. Let me see it.” She held her hand out, and the warrant was placed into it. I watched her skim it. “Fine.” She turned to the officers at the bar. “You break anything, you pay for it. There is a lot of very fucking expensive bottles on that shelf.” She pointed to the ceiling. “And there are cameras everywhere.”

“We’ll need to see those tapes,” Mick told her.

She handed him back the warrant. “Get an amendment on that warrant, and my client will happily comply, Detective.”

Mick stormed off, muttering about sleazy lawyers.

She turned to us, one eyebrow raised. “Well?”

Rye grinned. “Hey, Mommy McCabe. You look pissed.”

CHAPTER28

ISLA

The ride homehad been a quiet one. Julian was furious. I was still reeling from everything I had seen.

I poured two glasses of wine, sat on the couch, and waited for the explosion. I didn’t have to wait for long.

“What the hell were you thinking, Isla?” Julian began to pace. “How many times have I told you to stay away from Zayn? How many times haveyoutoldmehe’s bad news?” I watched him run his hands through his hair, and I wasn’t sure if he was trying not to pull it out. “You hate him! You should! He’s no good for you!”

He paced some more. I sipped my chardonnay. He sat down. He stood up.

“How long has this been happening?” he demanded.

“A few weeks.” I took another drink.

“Weeks.” He looked so horrified that I fought back a giggle. Julian ignored me. “The texts. The texts at dinner the other night from the guy. It wasZayn?”

That reminded me. “Oh, you mean the night you went home early but really went to Elixir?” I saw him falter. “Seems we’re both keeping secrets.”

Julian’s surprise morphed into anger again quickly. “Of course, you would know that becausehewould tell you.”

“Why didn’t you just say you wanted to go clubbing?” I blurted out, then paused as the words settled between us. I realized what I’d actually asked. “Because you weren’t going clubbing. You were in that lower club—where all the shifty guys go.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearing his throat as if to smooth over my bluntness. “You know about that? The lower level?”

I rolled my eyes, the memory of dark shadows and whispered conversations—probably shady deals—already vivid in my mind. “I’ve always known his clubs were more than advertised,” I replied, my tone dismissive. “I just didn’t know you were a frequenter of them.”

“But you didn’t go there?” Julian asked. “Isla!”

I snapped, “No! I only saw it tonight for the first time.” My words tumbled out faster than I intended, and I could almost feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I defended my limited exposure.

For a moment, silence hung between us—a heavy pause filled with unspoken accusations. I could see him trying to read me, his eyes flickering between annoyance and reluctant curiosity. Julian’s disapproval, his protective tone, only made me feel even more guilty.

I took a breath, forcing calm into my tone. “Look, it wasn’t serious.” I looked away so I didn’t have to lie to him directly. “I wasn’t planning on marrying him, for goodness’s sake. I just… It happened. Then it happened again.” I shrugged as if it didn’t bother me. Although my body already missed his touch, my head told me firmly to ignore it. “It was a casual hookup.” I blinked back the moisture in my eyes before turning to look at my best friend. “It was stupid.”

“It meant nothing?” Julian asked dubiously. He looked so relieved when I nodded that I wanted to cry.

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