Page 70 of Her Ruin

A small smile curled my lips as I relaxed my shoulders, my eyes never leaving Isla on the dance floor. In this game, every move was a statement. Every risk was a chance to consolidate power. And tonight, as I watched Isla move effortlessly among the pulsing crowd, I knew that while she was dancing for the moment I was orchestrating the future.

Every dollar, every whisper of controlled chaos, was mine to command, which was exactly the way it was meant to be.

CHAPTER19

ISLA

Takinga long sip of water from the bottle, I reminded myself I was soaking in the ambience of the club, enjoying the night. The pounding beat of the music and the flickering lights blurred together, but since I had switched to water, it was no longer as hazy as it had been. Still, the night had slipped away from me. We had been here much longer than I had planned, but Sienna was having a blast. I kept telling myself I was here for her, but that didn’t stop me from glancing towards the entrance or the VIP booths above us. A part of me expected to see Zayn again. I knew he was here—this was his club, after all.

I tried to convince myself I wasn’t waiting for anyone, but despite my best efforts to focus on the night and my friend, my focus kept drifting. It was as if I was under his spell, caught between duty and an inexplicable pull I refused to name.

The club thrived around me. Friends laughed, bodies moved in synchronicity to the music, and at least three well-known sports stars walked casually past me as they were ushered to the booths above. Yet, I felt detached, like a silent observer tethered to the restless longing inside me. My thoughts kept straying to the feel of his mouth on my skin, his tongue at my pulse, and the ache of my lips, and I wished that brief brush of his lips had been more.

What waswrongwith me?

Was the allure of Zayn so much greater than the fact he still screwed me last week? And not the hot and sweaty, take-your-breath-away kind of screw. The cold, calculated,you’re-fuckedkind of screw.

There were moments when I almost believed I heard his voice in the murmur of the crowd—a low chuckle that would send a shiver of anticipation down my spine. I shook my head, chiding myself for even entertaining the thought. I wasn’t here for him. I was here for Sienna and to prove I could hold everything together no matter what he’d done. And yet, as the night passed, I had to acknowledge, even if only to myself, that I was, in fact, lingering.

I no longer knew if it was by his design or my own silent surrender to a force I neither understood nor wanted to admit.

I pulled my phone from my purse, considering a message I might never send—a feigned injury, a casual check-in. Instead, I tucked the phone back into my purse. Every so often, I would turn to the feel of being watched, and I would catch a glimpse of a familiar silhouette, but I told myself it was mere coincidence, a trick of the light.

The fact that I was waiting for something,someone,who was dangerous, made me nervous. That wasn’t me. I wasn’t this person whose pulse raced at the thought of being in Zayn’s hold. In his control.

In the din of the club, I knew that the longer I stayed there was an admission of my vulnerability. I needed to keep my wits about me.

I needed to leave.

Reaching out, I tugged at Sienna’s arm. She was so drunk, not in a clumsy, ugly way; she was still aware of what she was doing. Instead, she was in that happy place that would be followed by a heavy head and sore feet the next morning.

“Hey, Sienna?” I called, pulling her gently to my side. “We’ve been here far longer than either of us were supposed to be,” I reminded her, smiling at her as she grinned at me. “We both have work tomorrow. I think we need to go, right?”

“Where’s Zayn?”

I blinked in surprise, but I shouldn’t have been. She’d been almost obsessive in her questioning since she saw him watching us on the dance floor and she’d seen him with his arm around my waist afterward, speaking into my ear as a lover would.

“I don’t know,” I told her. “Working, no doubt, this place is packed.” I pointed to the doors behind us. “You ready to leave?”

Sienna pouted, but I saw her look at the doors with something akin to longing. “But…”

Knowing she was putting on a brave front, I sidled closer. “Chris will be looking for his fiancée,” I reminded her, waggling my eyebrows suggestively.

Sienna giggled. “He does like when his honeybun is tipsy,” she confided with a grin.

“That settles it,” I told her with relief. “Let’s get you back home while you’re stilljusttipsy.”Tipsy, my ass.

Five minutes later—which felt like five hours—we reached the top of the stairwell, ready to leave. Now that I had made the decision, I wasnotwaiting for another encounter with Zayn; I wanted out of Elixir.

I looked down the stairs and met Rye’s cool gaze. It didn’t deter me. Each step away from the club’s pulsating neon glow felt like a reclaiming of control—a small rebellion against the magnetic pull of the man who haunted my thoughts. At the bottom of the stairs, I hesitated when Rye didn’t immediately move to let us pass.

“Rye?” I greeted, hating how it sounded more like a question.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Did you get everything you needed?”

“We had a nice evening, thank you,” I replied stiffly. He said nothing and just stepped to the side, but I could feel him laughing at me.

Outside, the warm night air wrapped around me, a stark contrast to the sultry heat inside. This was more welcome, fresher. I pulled my phone from my purse, half expecting a message from Zayn, but my messages remained empty.

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