Page 51 of Her Ruin

“Elixir’s private staff ensured that tonight’s event was executed flawlessly,” Zayn carried on, pausing to take a sip from his glass, his eyes still locked on to mine. “From the kitchen to the service to the security—you’ve been in good hands all evening.”

My stomach dropped. The kitchen. The service. The security.

He’d made sure I had no access to any of it. I’d been so focused on the event, on the planning, onnavigatingZayn himself, that I hadn’t stopped to consider…I never once had control.

An illusion.

He’d given me theillusionof power. He had let me move through the club like I was running things, let me pretend I had pulled this off, when in reality? He had held every single string in his hand.

I’d done this. I’d planned an event inside his empire. Usinghispeople. Onhisterms. I had never stood a chance. I was reeling, my nails digging into my palm so hard I was sure they’d leave permanent indentations in my skin.

Zayn tilted his glass slightly in my direction, knowing exactly what I’d just realized. Enjoying watching me figure it out.

“And so,” he finished smoothly, “I’d like to thank the Shaw Foundation for trusting Elixir with tonight’s event. It’s been my pleasure hosting you.”

The room erupted into applause. My knees felt weak as I stood there, my world tipping on its axis.

Zayn McCabe had played me.

And I let him.

The sound of clapping felt deafening but also muted. I knew I was spiraling. Holding it all inside, I raised my hands and clapped.

I forced myself to clap. Because what the hell was I supposed to do? Storm the stage? Rip the microphone from his hands?

No.

Not here. Not with hundreds of Gracemont’s most powerful people watching. Not with photographers capturing every moment, every smile, every careful detail thatIhad planned.

No. I would not give Zayn the satisfaction of seeing me unravel.

Instead, I looked for my champagne flute. A waiter passed with a tray, and I took a flute with steady fingers, took a measured sip, and stood there like a fucking joke.

Zayn was still watching me as Lyndsay joined him on the stage and spoke to him. I couldn’t look away from his smirk. He knew exactly how hard I was working to keep my expression neutral, how much effort it took to stand here, poised and polished, while he stole this moment from under me.

It was only when Zayn turned his gaze to Lyndsay that I felt Rye’s steady presence beside me. Looking up, I saw him watching me.

“Did you enjoy that?” I asked him, glad my voice was steady.

Rye sniffed, his hand slipping into his dark-gray suit. “I told you the first time we met, Isla. Only Elixir holds events inside Elixir.” He gave me a small consolatory smile, and then he walked away.

I downed my champagne, already looking for a replacement, when I saw Lyndsay Shaw walking towards me. I plastered my most professional smile on my face as my client came to stand beside me.

Her gaze swept the room, stopping towards the stage, where Zayn effortlessly engaged in conversation with a small crowd gathered around him.

“Well?” she said, her eyes on him. “How did that arrangement work out for you?”

I turned to face her. “I don’t know what you mean.” I had to maintain some form of control.

Her lips curled slightly. “Isla, I’m a businesswoman, and I know a power play when I see one.”

The huff of disgust was out before I could stop it. “The event was a success,” I told her. “That’s all that matters.”

Lyndsay hummed. “It absolutely was; you executed everything flawlessly.” Her gaze flicked towards Zayn, who was now laughing with some of the VIPs. “He made sure no one will remember it was your hours of work.”

I swallowed, hating how true it was.

Lyndsay gave a quiet laugh. “He’s impressive,” she said with admiration. “Did you see it coming?”

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