Page 30 of Her Ruin

“Then no deal.” I drew myself up straighter and tried to make myself taller, but all I did was press against him.

A slow, lazy smile crossed his face. “Oh, there’s a deal,” he mocked, leaning down closer. “There’s always a deal, Isla.” His voice was a low murmur, brushing against my skin like a promise—or a threat; I was no longer sure. His gray eyes flickered over my face, searching, calculating. “The question is, would you be willing to pay the price?”

My heart pounded in my chest. I was sure he could feel it, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. “I’m not interested in whatever you think this is or whatever game you’re playing, Zayn.”

His smile deepened, slow and knowing. “But you are.” A knuckle traced over my cheekbone. “You just don’t like that I can see right through you.” His head dropped another millimeter, shifting his lips to my ear. “Or that I make the rules.”

I swallowed, meeting his eye, refusing to back down. “I get Elixir for the gala.” My voice sounded so sure even though my body was humming with the energy of him being so close to me. “One event, nothing more. You and Rye? Do nothing. I don’t need you there. You stay away.”

“Bold.”

He didn’t move. He wasn’t moving. The heat between us was making me dizzy. Reckless with my words. “You’ll give me this as payment for fucking up my project.”

His hand was on my throat in a flash—loose but firm enough to remind me exactly who was in control. The move was so quick, so effortless, I barely had time to react before my breath hitched, my pulse hammering against his palm.

“Tsk, tsk, little Isla.” Zayn’s voice was low, almost amused, but there was a dangerous undercurrent beneath it. A warning. A promise. His thumb brushed the side of my neck, a slow, deliberate touch that sent heat slithering down my spine. “I warned you.”

His breath danced over my lips; he was so close the space between us felt nonexistent. My hands clenched at my sides, fighting the urge to break away. I knew I could, but I was battling something even more dangerous—the impulse to pull him closer.

“Now you’ll pay twice,” he murmured, his lips a breath away from mine, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

The tension between us was thick with something I refused to identify. I should have pushed him away. I should have knocked his hand aside, snapped at him—something sharp, something that reminded him I wasn’t the kind of woman who let a man take control of her.

But I didn’t move.

I didn’t speak.

And neither did he.

We held each other’s stare in silent challenge for a long moment, the air between us still tense. His grip on my throat didn’t tighten, didn’t demand—just existed, a quiet reminder of the power play unfolding between us.

My breath came out shallow but controlled, but when my eyes flickered down—to his lips, to the space that separated us—I knew I’d made a mistake.

By the time I looked back up, it was too late.

Triumph gleamed in his cold and knowing gaze. He had seen it. The hesitation, the curiosity, the betrayal of my own thoughts, and my instincts to lean in.

Zayn’s smirk deepened, slow and devastating. “Careful, Isla,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against my pulse, sending sparks racing over my skin. “You look at me like that, and I might start thinking this is what you wanted.”

Heat flooded my cheeks, but I refused to look away this time, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me falter again. “In your dreams, McCabe.”

Zayn’s hold loosened enough he was barely touching me, but he didn’t move back. If anything, he leaned in closer, his mouth a whisper from mine.

“Maybe.” His voice was velvet-wrapped sin. “But what happens when I make it yours?”

Heat pooled in my core, traitorous and undeniable. My body wasn’t listening to logic, wasn’t thinking of how this was a terrible idea.

I was going to do something so foolish.

I didn’t trust myself—not with him, not in this moment, not with the way he looked at me as if he knew how close I was to breaking. Panic flared in my chest at that realization, sharp and immediate, shattering the spell he’d cast over me.

I jerked away from him, pressing my hands against his chest as I shoved him back a step, ducking under his arm before he could stop me. My breathing was ragged, my pulse erratic, and I hated that he had pushed me so close to making a mistake.

When I spun around, ready to demand what the hell he thought he was playing at, I found him exactly as I should have expected,unbothered.

Zayn was leaning against the door, arms crossed, head tilted, watching me like he’d just been thoroughly entertained, and then…he laughed.

Low. Amused. Infuriating.

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