Page 56 of Her Ruin

The upper level was still buzzing with the final ripples of the gala, guests lingering, conversations trailing off into goodbyes and handshakes, the slow fade of an event reaching its inevitable end.

The gala might be over, but my night was just beginning.

Casting my eye over the lower-level screens, I nodded in satisfaction. All running exactly as it should. I’d grabbed a bottle of water on my way up, and twisting off the cap, I downed half of it in one go. I let the cool liquid wash away the lingering heat of the Scotch.

I lifted the phone off my desk, ready to put it into my pocket, and hesitated over the message screen. Isla was still on my mind. I didn’t expect any message from her. The woman had more class than to text in anger.

But…she also had a temper, and I smiled briefly at the thought of her fury, her sharp, clipped words, and her control, which she hung on to like a lifeline. I wondered what it would be like for her to let go, like the way her breath caught when I got too close.

There was no message from Isla. I spent my living reading people, and I knew Isla wasn’t done with me. Good. I wanted her to fight. I wanted her to push back.

It would be all the more satisfying when she realized the outcome had already been decided. Slipping my phone into my pocket, I checked the screens again, my gaze on the lower level.

The gala had been for show—the best opportunity to show off Elixir’s polished, curated image.

But downstairs? That was where my money was made. I exited the office, making my way through the corridor, loosening another button at my neck and checking my cuff links.

I felt the shift come over me, and as soon as I stepped inside the lower level, I felt the change in the energy.

A deal was already in progress in one of the booths. Two men were leaning in, their movements careful and measured. Cash was on the table, whiskey glasses were half drained, and subtle nods of agreement were being exchanged. Jayden stood nearby, his eyes watchful, his stance relaxed. He gave me a barely perceptible nod. The deal was going well, and the house had its cut.

Good.

I moved towards the back, my presence acknowledged in glances, movements, and the unspoken shift in the room. People didn’t stop what they were doing when I walked in. They didn’t freeze or scramble. But they noticed, and that was the point.

I took my usual seat in the corner, letting the night settle around me. The gala was over, and the public-facing side of my world was neatly wrapped up in a silk bow.

Now, it was time to get back to business.

When I saw Mercutio walk in, I exhaled through my nose, already irritated just at the sight of him. I saw Jayden straighten slightly, and with a quick glance at my watch, I wondered how long before Rye would be down.

Not for me. I didn’t need backup for a man like Mercutio. I needed someone to holdmebackif the prick pushed me.

Mercutio was a problem—the kind of man who didn’t know when to stop pushing and when to back off. He also wasn’t very bright. It had only been a few nights since he sent some green novice in here looking for Angelo, and the fact Angelo would kill him without hesitation seemed to miss Mercutio’s radar.

I wasn’t sure if Angelo was in Gracemont or Chicago. I wondered if Mercutio had checked his sources first.

While the dick annoyed me and made me want to physically kick the shit out of him, I was still a fair, open-minded businessman. My world was tricky to navigate; the tides could turn at any moment. I hosted the players, and I rarely took sides.

Which was why shits like Mercutio knew he could come to my club, take a seat at a table, and lean back as if he belonged here. I cast my eye over his slicked-back hair; it was heavy with so much product the dim light bounced off it. His suit was cheap, like the confidence that rolled off him in waves. I watched as he ordered a Scotch on the rocks.

I didn’t have long to wait to see what the play was here. Angelo walked in about forty minutes later, and I exchanged a look with Jayden, who slipped up the back stairs. He would take Rye’s place.

Angelo took the seat across from Mercutio, and I settled into the chair beside Angelo, slow and deliberate, making sure both of them knew I wasn’t waiting to be invited tothisconversation.

Mercutio gave me a toothy smile. “Zayn,” he greeted, looking me over. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” His pointer finger on his right hand jabbed towards the ceiling. “Thought you were licking rich folks’ arses.”

I ignored his vulgarity. “You’re in my club,” I said smoothly, leaning back in my chair. “You should always expect to see me.”

Mercutio chuckled, but there was a flicker of unease in his gaze.

What was going on here?

A glass of straight vodka was placed in front of Angelo and a glass of Scotch in front of me.

I took a slow sip, letting the silence stretch before setting the glass down. “So, tell me,” I asked them both. “What brings you both in here tonight?”

“Neutral ground,” Mercutio bit out. “Angelo wanted a meet?—”

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