Page 110 of Her Ruin

And despite everything, I was still inexplicably drawn to him. I still missed him. I still wanted those private moments between us, where his guard was down and he was the boy in the bathroom, ready to help me play a stupid game.

Sitting in my apartment alone, I closed my eyes and fought to steady my breathing. Every secret I learned about him only widened the chasm between who I wanted to be and what he represented.

Loving him—or even just failing to stay away—meant breaking every rule I’d ever known about myself, and that was a bitter pill to swallow.

Even as I sat there in the bright afternoon sunshine, struggling with this unexpected vulnerability, I knew one thing for sure. I would never be the same again. In such a short time, he’d changed me.

Challenged me.

Drove me to be better.

Made me stronger.

More confident.

I picked up my phone and dialed, my heart racing as the call connected. “Hi, Gerard?”

“Isla? How are you?”

I swallowed. “I’m good. I was wondering…is that job offer still open?”

“Yes.” I heard him smile. “Yes, it is. Can you come by in the morning so we can discuss it?”

“Sure, how does ten sound?”

“I’ll see you then, Isla.”

* * *

I stoodat the entrance of The Grand Gracemont three weeks later, the early-morning light cutting through the glass and steel, and I knew—this was it. This was my time to take full control and say goodbye to the past, the memories of stolen victories, of lost control. Not anymore. Today, I was taking charge.

I was walking in there to sign the contract that made me the hotel’s in-house event planner, the decision feeling like both a retreat and a rebellion. Working full-time here meant I could build something concrete—a sanctuary of order amid the unpredictable storms of my life. No more stolen glances in dim clubs, and no more unpredictable nights with dangerous promises.

I knew danger would follow Zayn everywhere the day I’d found a knife under my bed. I had no idea how it got there until I remembered the first night with Zayn. Something had fallen, and I remembered hearing it hitting the floor. Weeks later, I’d been vacuuming and the vacuum hit something. A black-handled flick knife was under my bed. The blade was curved and dangerous, and holding it had made me feel sick.

Not only for what it was, but what it represented.Whoit represented. Who needed to carry a flick knife on them? Who forgot to pick up theirwalletbut remembered to grab their knife?

People likehim.

Well, no more.

I was reclaiming control over my world.

Inside the conservatory, I met with Gerard and the hotel’s management team. They looked at me with a mix of respect and expectation. “Isla, we’re excited to have you on board,” Gerard said, his voice measured and reassuring. “Your vision and precision are exactly what we need to elevate this place.” He smiled at me with fondness. “We’ve already seen what you can do; we are excited for more.”

I smiled back, feeling the weight of his trust settle over me like a mantle. “Thank you, I’m excited too.” I could hear the quiet hum of the hotel’s daily operations, a steady rhythm that reminded me why I had chosen this path.

“We have an office for you,” the hotel manager, Russ, said. “It’s temporary until you find a space that may suit you better.”

“Oh, come, we’ll all go together,” Gerard said, delighted with this turn of events. A far cry from my boss’s—my old boss’s—reaction.

As we walked the now familiar corridors, I caught my reflection in a polished mirror, glimpsing eyes that had seen too much but were now clear with resolve. I was focused on the tasks ahead, reviewing vendor contracts, updating timelines, and mapping out the grand visions I had for the hotel’s future.

I settled into the way of working easily. Working at The Grand was the most comfortable I had ever been in my career. A number of clients followed me, but they still held their commitment to my old company. I would not be accused of poaching, but I knew they were coming.

Even as I immersed myself in spreadsheets and project plans, a quiet voice in the back of my mind whispered reminders of past nights—of a passion that had once made me feel unquestioningly alive. It was a risk I could no longer afford.

I had chosen a new beginning—a commitment to my career, my reputation, and a life in which I was in full control. I was creating a future on my own terms, one flawless event at a time.

---