Page 107 of His Fury

A reckoning.

I pulledinto The Grand’s back lot and turned off the engine, but I stayed in the driver’s seat a moment longer than necessary. It felt different being here today.

The building was the same. The parking lot. The ivy-covered trellis near the entrance. But something inside me had shifted, and the life I’d so carefully compartmentalized—work, structure, control—suddenly felt like a paper shield.

Still, I gathered my belongings, adjusted the strap of my tote bag, and stepped outside. Work felt normal. It was what I excelled at. Work felt safe.

Right?

I passed through the main entrance and smiled at the concierge as I made my way to my office. My heels clicked against the marble tiles. I took a detour into the conservatory, where breakfast was still being served to the last-minute rush of guests eager to grab a meal before heading back to their rooms to prepare for their day.

It was the same as any other day. My coffee order was still waiting to be poured, and I took it with a murmured thanks before carrying on my way to my office.

This was my routine. It should’ve felt grounding. Instead, it felt surreal. Nothing had changed, kidnappings aside; nothing was different.

Everythingwas different.

I waved at Russ who was in deep conversation with one of the bellhops, and I wondered what thatwas about before I saw Gerard and instantly ducked into the first meeting room I could to avoid him.

I didn’t have it in me this morning to talk yurts. How many times could you tell someone the same thing? Eight yurts were ideal, if they could squeeze it, twelve would be better. Twelve was the maximum. Eight offered exclusivity, and twelve offeredmaximumexclusivity. I sipped my coffee asI waited him out. He would get distracted by something shiny, and I could slip out and finally head to my office.

Something shiny. Like…glitter.

Glitter. Why would I even say glitter? I mentally face-palmed, rolling my eyes at myself for letting Rye goad me. But then he was all...normal. I can only assume it was a test, but he didn’t need to test me; he just needed to talk to me. Maybe I needed to talk to him. This constant bickering between us was draining, and he was obviously important to Zayn, so I needed to do better. Or he needed to do better, and I needed to be the adult and tell him to share his favorite toy…Be nice, Isla. Iwasnice; that was the problem. I was a nice person. Therefore, I would make the effort with Rye.

And maybe that would make Rye better. I huffed out a laugh. “Maybe pigs will fly…”

I opened the door a fraction, and seeing the coast was clear, I hightailed it to my office. This was not the best demonstration of professionalism orniceness, but I needed more than this cup of coffee before I could deal with Gerard today.

Settling in behind my desk, I pulled my laptop, tablet, and notebook from my tote because a paper backup was always needed in case technology failed. Opening everything up, I relaxed into my chair, ready to tackle the day.

I had a breakfast convention seminar scheduled for tomorrow in one of the smaller boardrooms. Fifty-five attendees were expected, starting at seven a.m. and wrapping up at eight thirty. Breakfast pastries, tea, and coffee would be provided. The promotional materials had already arrived, and I needed to double-check the boxes for the notepads, pens, keychains, and other items that these morning conventions always equipped their delegates with. A morningseminar meant I would set up the tables tonight and be on-site tomorrow by six or six fifteen at the latest.

I hesitated. Did I need to tell Zayn? Was that who we were now? Did I tell him my comings and goings?

Did we live together?I had no idea what we were.

I had been kidnapped. Julian’s fault, not Zayn’s.

Zayn had claimed me last night in his strange, dangerous world I wanted nothing to do with. He had stuck his neck out for me—not once but twice. I needed to tell him. He would tell me, wouldn’t he?

My fingers tapped against my notebook. He knew I had events this week; it was one of the reasons he let me leave the house.Let me? I was a strong, independent woman. I didn’t need a man toletme do anything.Definitelynot Zayn McCabe.

“This is ridiculous,” I mumbled as I picked up my phone. I shot out a text.

I have a morning event tomorrow. Starts at seven. I need to be at work for 6:15

His reply was instant.

Okay

That was it?Okay? I gnawed my bottom lip. All that inner turmoil forokay?

It’s an early start…will I go back to my apartment tonight?

That isnotwhat I wanted, but I needed to be realistic and knew I had to return sometime. I lived there. It’s why I paid rent, after all.

Why would you do that? You’re waking me either way. I’d rather you did it at the house.

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