Page 111 of Her Ruin

I’d made a promise to myself that, this time, nothing would shake the foundation I was so determined to lay.

My phone buzzed, and I answered it without looking. “Isla Wells.”

“Isla? It’s Lyndsay Shaw of the Shaw Foundation.”

I stopped typing, my eyes watching the phone like a hawk. “Hi? How are you?”

“I’m good. I hear you moved to The Grand Gracemont. Gerard always was a charmer with the ladies.”

I bit my tongue and then thoughtfuck it. I wasn’t scared of her, and I could no longer get fired by people who were afraid of her. “Gerard’s also a really decent human being,” I said sharply. “Is there something I can help you with, Lyndsay?”

She didn’t miss a beat.

“Elixir has a tarnished reputation?—”

“It was always tarnished,” I said with even more bite. “You look past the superficial and see beneath all the gossip.”

I heard her sniff. “Well, I have stakeholders who only see the superficial.”

Like you.

“I want the winter gala at The Grand. Can you accommodate me?”

I was so tempted to say no. “Things are different now, Lyndsay?—”

“Oh. Do I need to speak to Gerard?” Her tone was going to get her slapped.

“No. I coordinate all bookings and events,” I told her, speaking clearly. “But while I accommodate events here, we do so within parameters and boundaries as I set.”

I heard her light laugh. “You’re in charge. Is that what you’re saying, Isla?”

Was it?“Yes.”

“Excellent! I’ll email you the suggested dates; hopefully, we can find one that works for everyone.”

She hung up, and I stared at the phone suspiciously for a few minutes afterward. Elixir was as thriving as it always had been. It hadn’t faltered at all from one mere SWAT raid. In fact, it had only made it more desirable.

People were weird.

I waited for her email and then carried on with my morning. I had a call with a supplier later and a meeting with a potential new client at one.

I decided I needed a coffee and made my way to the conservatory, wondering when Gerard would regret the “all-you-can-drink tea and coffee” offer he’d made when I started here. That man did not know my tolerance for caffeine.

My phone rang, and this time, I looked.Julian. With a smile, I answered, “You’re an hour early, or you’re not making it? Which one am I expecting you to say?” I teased him as I walked. We usually had our quick post-lunch check-ins—jokes, teasing, and a bit of friendly ribbing to keep the mood light. But today, he was supposed to meet me in person for lunch.

“I need to talk to you.”

I frowned. His tone wasn’t one I recognized. Terse, almost urgent.

“I’m listening,” I offered.

“I’m already here.”

I found Julian in the corridor, leaning against the door to the conference room. His eyes were wary, and a strained seriousness replaced his usual confident smile. “Isla,” he greeted, his tone low. “Is this a good time?”

I forced a smile, conscious my colleagues were watching, “What’s up? You’re acting…funny, not in a good way,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.

He pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “Somewhere private.”

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