Page 60 of Her Ruin

“More issues?” I arched a brow at him, watching how he and Gerard both shuffled their feet like schoolboys getting reprimanded by the head teacher.

Gerard jumped in to save Pete. “It was nothing we couldn’t handle, just?—”

“Yeah, I remember the last time you said that to me,” I interjected, keeping my voice pleasant, but I wasn’t able to curb the edge out of it completely. “And yet, here we are, already another three weeks behind schedule and watching your budget inflate faster than I thought possible.”

Pete pursed his lips. “We’ve been trying to work within a revised structure?—”

I folded my arms. “A revised structure because the original wasn’t followed properly.”

Gerard huffed in displeasure. “Isla, you know how these things go. Unexpected setbacks, unforeseen?—”

I leaned forward, my tone sharper. “No, Gerard. I know howbad planninggoes. I also know the more excuses I hear, the more money this project bleeds.”

Pete looked to Gerard for support. “Look, I understand your frustration?—”

“Not frustration,” I corrected smoothly, not letting either of them spin this into something personal. “It’s about accountability.” I let the words sit between us for a moment before I reached for my tablet and pulled up the most recent numbers. “The renovation of the ballroom should have been completed by last week,” I continued, scrolling down. “Instead, we’re looking at a ten-day delay with no firm timeline on the new flooring installation.” I turned the screen towards them. “The new kitchen equipment was supposed to arrive three days ago, but instead of delivery confirmation, I have an email from the supplier asking for a final approval they should have received two weeks ago.”

Gerard shifted uncomfortably. “We’ve been handling multiple moving pieces?—”

I pinned him with a look. “I don’t need to hear what you’ve been handling or what you think you’ve been handling. I need solutions. Your bank account needs to hear solutions.”

Pete glanced between us, his brows furrowed. “Isla, the delays have been?—”

“Unforgivable,” I snapped at him. “You told me you incurred the changes because Gerard was the one who paid you. Well, let me put this very clearly; the more the project bleeds money, the more you’re likely to lose a very lucrative contract and your reputation as being reliable.”

Silence.

Gerard cleared his throat again. “Your suggestion to remedy this?”

I was all business. “I suggest you both stop throwing around excuses and we start talking aboutactualnext steps.”

And just like that, I took back control.

I led the meeting with precision, breaking down the revised timeline and making it clear any further delays were unacceptable. Suppliers made excuses, and I shut them down. Interior designers bemoaned delayed shipments, and I gave them solutions. This was so far outside of my comfort zone. I was an event planner, not a project manager, but it was all about the moving pieces and getting results. At the end of the day,thatwas my job.

No matter what the hell had happened over the weekend, no matter how much Zayn had thrown me off my game, I got back up, and I was still capable of doing a good job.

No more hesitation. No more fumbling. This was what I was good at; this was where I thrived.

I had spent the weekend stewing over what happened at Elixir, over how I let Zayn get into my head, into my space. But now? Now I was reminding myself of who I was.

I was Isla Wells. I didn’t get distracted, and I sure as hell didn’t get caught up in men like Zayn McCabe.

By midafternoon, I was walking back to my car, rolling my shoulders to shake off the lingering tension. I had The Grand’s reopening back on track, and I was feeling good about the progress made today. Gerard hadn’t outright apologized, but he was humble, and I would take it.

My phone buzzed as I got into the car, and I barely glanced at the screen before answering. “Isla Wells.”

A slow, familiar chuckle hummed through the speaker.

Fuck.

I stilled in the car, my fingers tightening around the wheel.

“Little Isla,” Zayn murmured, voice as smooth as silk. As dangerous as ever.

I closed my eyes for a half a second, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping me grounded.

I wasn’t thinking about him.

---