Page 15 of Her Ruin

“It’s a fucking Bentley.”

“It’s fucking hideous,” I reminded him. “Ancient as fuck and fucks with the environment.”

“Fuck, Zayn,” Tomo snorted. “You got a Tesla or something?”

“Shut the fuck up, or Patrick will raise it to fifty percent and thirty Gs for my trouble.”

Patrick’s lips curved into a smirk, but there was no warmth in it. He drummed his fingers on the table, considering. “Fifty percent.” He looked between us. “Five for the damage to myvintagecar.”

Tomo looked like he wanted to argue, but he caught my eye. “Fuck it. Fine.”

“Excellent,” I said, cutting off Patrick before he could fuck it up. “Details can be discussed somewhere else.” I looked around the club pointedly, noticing the stares of the people tryingnotto be seen noticing us. “Everyone’s satisfied.”

I didn’t add the unspoken warning that, even if they weren’t, it was too bad.

“Patrick?” I prodded.

“Fine. Done.”

Tomo slid out of the booth, grinning like he won, and I sharpened my focus on him. “Pleasure as always.” He cast a glance around. “I’ll be in touch.”

I watched as he left, feeling Patrick and his guys move to make more space in the booth. This wasn’t a partnership built on trust. One would fuck the other over, and I was sure one would end up bloody or dead.

“He’s a liability,” Patrick huffed.

“Then stop lending him money,” I said casually as I exited the booth. “A loan’s a loan, but you two are playing this shit too often.”

Patrick drank his whiskey. “Fucking idiot keeps making me money with the amount of interest he pays back,” he said with a shrug. “But soon…”

I didn’t respond to the implied threat. Instead, I called a waitress over. “Refills here,” I told her softly. “Rye will record the details of the agreement,” I told Patrick.

I walked away, trusting Rye to take care of the payment for my fee for witnessing the deal. This was routine—another day, another deal. I had no doubt Tomo would cover that, too. Patrick was a slippery bastard as loan sharks usually were.

I made my way to my office and settled in behind my desk while watching the screens of both clubs. Since opening night, the clubs had been packed on both levels. The private booths upstairs were booked months in advance, and the waiting list for cancelations stretched almost as long as the bookings. Celebrities, CEOs, and politicians had found their way to Elixir in the few weeks since it opened, drawn to the allure of something they couldn’t quite describe.

This was what I had created, what I’d aimed for. It was more than just another high-end club. Gracemont and even Chicago, some forty-five minutes away, had those. They already had clubs trying to be exclusive, but at the end of the day, they all had the same cookie-cutter aesthetic.

Elixir wasn’t that. I’d wanted something that whispered secrets and exuded power—a place where people came just not to spend money but to leave their mark. A space that thrived on exclusivity and discretion, far enough from the city to avoid constant scrutiny but close enough to attract those who operated on the fringes of polite society.

The upstairs club had its own allure. Catering to trendsetters, influencers, and restless socialites, it was what people desired: dark, sensual decor, curated cocktails, and music that pulsed with the heartbeat of the night. Along with the luxury and indulgence, it was sheer perfection. The client list attested to that.

If upstairs was the bait, the lower level was the hook. It was quieter, sharper, and darker, offering confidentiality and privacy, not flashing lights and loud music.

Open for three weeks, Elixir had been the talk of Gracemont and surrounding areas for every moment since.

Elixir wasn’tjusta club. It was an empire in the making, and empires required control.

Control over the space, the people, over the very air that filled the rooms.

It was mine. Every detail, every decision, every shadow.

But I knew that success was a fleeting thing; the moment you started to relax, it could slip through your fingers. Watching the crowded bar in the club, seeing the waitresses running between the private booths, looking harassed in the servers’ halls but then serene and sophisticated once inside, offering calm and elegance to the clients, I let a small smile slip free. Tonight was another win, another step forward. But that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be the next thing, the next challenge, the next move to make.

This night was mine, but the game never stopped.

The door opened, and the loud music from outside spilled through as Rye stepped into the office. He closed the door firmly behind him, and within a few seconds, he was sinking into one of the armchairs across from me.

“They’re going to kill each other,” he said amicably as he opened a bottle of water. “I no longer know if they hate each other or secretly want to fuck. Know what I mean?” He pushed his blond hair off his face. “Which one do you think would be top?”

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