Page 61 of Her Ruin

I wasn’t.

And yet, the second I heard his voice, my pulse betrayed me.

I exhaled sharply. “What do you want?”

There was a pause, like he was enjoying this, like he could hear the tension in my voice and was thriving on it.

Finally, he spoke. “Just checking in.”

I scoffed, my finger hovering over the end call button. “You don’t check in on people.”

I heard his huff of laughter. “No, I don’t.”

I waited. He didn’t speak. Neither did I. The silence stretched, too long, too heavy, filled with everything I wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

And then he spoke. “You’re still thinking about it,” he said, his voice lower now. Darker.

I didn’t ask what he meant. I knew what he was taunting me with. The gala. The speech. The almost kiss.

I clenched my jaw, my knuckles white around the steering wheel. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Zayn gave out a low chuckle. “You lie so easily for someone so proud of how straitlaced you are.”

My stomach twisted. I forced myself to remain cool, even, unshaken. “This is getting us nowhere. Goodbye, Zayn.”

“See you soon,” he replied like he already knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away.

I ended the call, shoving my phone into my purse before I could be tempted to throw it out the damn window.

Because the worst part? He wasn’t wrong. Iwasstill thinking about it. That stupid almost kiss, and I had no idea how to stop.

* * *

By Thursday,I was knee-deep in planning for a corporate fundraiser, something so far removed from Elixir and Zayn that I could almost pretend the weekend never happened.

Almost.

The event was for a local biotech company launching a new medical initiative, a classy, low-risk affair meant to impress investors and donors alike. No high-stakes egos. No underground power plays. No arrogant men in black suits stealing credit for my work.

A welcome change.

I stood in the middle of Bennett Hall, one of Gracemont’s older event spaces, reviewing the floor plan as staff bustled around me. The venue was old money—marble floors, vaulted ceilings, and chandeliers dripping with crystal. Everything was polished and pristine.

Flipping through my notes, I took a sip of my now cold coffee.

Seating? Finalized.

Catering? Confirmed.

Guest list? A few stragglers but manageable.

For the first time in days, I felt fully in control.

And then, of course, that control had to be shattered.

“Wells.”

I looked up at the sound of my name, my stomach tightening immediately at the sight of the man approaching.

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