Page 92 of Her Ruin

“Youthink!” Smoothing my hair as best as I could, I stormed past them both, muttering they were both assholes, and once more locked myself in a bathroom stall. When I was as cleaned up as much as possible, I stared at myself in the mirror, my eyes wide as I looked at the very noticeable, veryuncoverable hickey on my neck.

“You possessive bastard.” I seethed. I was going to kill him, I vowed as I fixed my hair and makeup and left the bathroom, knowing I had to fake every smile as I internally raged at Zayn and how he had once more fucked me over at an event.

Only this time, I’d been a willing participant, and that pissed me off even more.

CHAPTER26

ISLA

I walkedthrough the heavy wooden doors of Elixir, not even looking around as the busy club throbbed around me. I’d gone home after the success of The Grand and scrubbed myself clean in the shower. And then, after grabbing black jeans and a simple black top with a high neck, I had jammed my feet into boots. Now, I was here, ready to tear the owner of Elixir a new one.

I saw Rye first, and had I been thinking straight, I would have hesitated at the smile he gave me. I watched as he approached me, a wicked glint in his eye. Leaning down, he spoke into my ear.

“You shouldn’t have come here tonight,” he told me.

“Why?” I demanded, glaring up at him. My hair was in its usual ponytail, and I saw Rye flick his eyes to my neck.

“Why are you here?”

“For your charming company,” I snapped. “Why do you think?”

Rye tilted his head as he looked me over. “You want to see Zayn? Or…” His cold stare met mine. “Or do you want to see Elixir?”

I didn’t understand. I’d been here a few times now. I’d seen it. I had hosted an event here. Kind of. As I held his gaze, understanding at what he offered me caused me to look around at the people who were enjoying their night, oblivious to the tension between us.

“Well?” Rye pressed.

“Show me.” I never saidshow me Zayn. I never saidshow me the club. He made the choice, and I followed.

Rye took the stairs to the VIP booths two at a time, and I struggled to keep up. I followed him quietly as he dipped into the first one, shock making my steps slow as I took in what was happening. Bodies, so many bodies in various positions, naked, grunting, and panting, and I automatically stepped back in surprise. Everywhere I looked, there was someone having sex, and they didn’t care that we’d walked in.

I heard Rye laugh as he took in my wide-eyed look. With a nudge, he led me out into the next booth. Here, the space was full of a dark, pulsing energy, hushed conversations in corners. No matter how I tried to reject it as an exaggeration, the sense of danger was woven into every shadow. Men looked me over, and I hated the feeling that I had just been weighed and judged before they looked to Rye, who shook his head. More than one looked disappointed, and I slowly backed out of the booth.

“What was that?” I asked as Rye walked past me to the next booth.

“Elixir.”

In the next booth, I recognized a few well-known sports stars. They were almost normal as they played video games or slouched on low leather couches. The naked girls serving them and pole dancing in the middle of the room made me avert my eyes.

Every booth was an eye-opener, and by the time I had visited them all, I wanted another hot shower.

At the top of the stairs, Rye nodded to another door, and wordlessly, I followed him up the stairs to a door I recognized as being Zayn’s office.

The coolness of his stark and clean office was a complete contrast to what I had just seen. I’d seen his world, and what I’d found took my breath away.

“You want more?” Rye asked me.

When I looked up at him, he was watching me with casual indifference. I nodded and I saw the gleam of danger in his eyes as he pressed a button, and all the monitors flickered to life. The top row was the club, and some were the booths where everyone now seemed to be fucking. I looked away and focused on the lower level of monitors.

The club that I’d never seen. I stepped closer. Polished marble under low black chandeliers and men in tailored suits who exchanged looks over piles of cash. I was surprised—astonished, even—at the blatant feeling of corruption. I wasn’t in the same room as them, but I knew none of what I was seeing was legal.

In one corner of the room, Zayn sat. His ankle rested over his lap as he swirled the whiskey in its tumbler as he overlooked the room.

His domain.

His world.

He was wearing his black pants and shirt and had added a black waistcoat, an outfit, or one like it, I had seen him in numerous times. But the look in his eyes I had never seen. The cold, expressionless mask he watched them with was almost foreign.

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