Page 128 of His Fury

James handed me a sheet of paper. “Just got sent this,” he told me.

I read the list. “What is it?” I asked hesitantly.

“Signature cocktails the birthday girl wants for tonight.”

I looked up at him. “I’ve never heard of any of these,” I told him. “And I’ve drank my fair share of cocktails.”

“That’s because she apparentlyinventedthem this morning over her birthday brunch.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Okay, well, make them.” I shrugged. “She invented them this morning?” He nodded. “Then she won’t have any idea what’s in them.” We walked to the bar, and I leaned over, grabbing a notebook and a pen. “Right, Pink Sky Delight…it’s gotta be pink, right? So…vodka, raspberry liquor, sprite…and…”

“Amaretto.”

I looked at James and nodded. “Amaretto. Who doesn’t want a little cherry in their cocktail? Okay, next.”

We hastily made up a list of cocktails, catering more to theimplied color tone of her suggested list. On closer inspection, the girl’s imagination was limited.

“Offer these to the clients,” I told him, stepping back. “Also, make sure to keep promoting Elixir’s signature cocktails.” I looked up in momentary panic. “The three complimentary drinks include cocktails, right?”

“Yeah, once the three are taken, they pay.” He didn’t look impressed by that idea. “Takings might be down with this”—he waved at the pad—“I won’t have time to perfect each one before the doors open.”

“Add five bucks onto each of them. Elixir’s are better and a fairer price. Outprice these ones, and we won’t have to make as many, yeah?”

James smiled. “Yeah. Thirty bucks for these. I wouldn’t pay it.”

No one with any sense would. I smiled in agreement and went to turn away. “Hey, if you remember, I might try one of those”—I squinted at the pad—“Bedroom Eyes, later.”

We had no idea what that meant, and for me, “bedroom eyes” referred to any time Zayn looked at me. His eyes were gray, so while James had suggested brown, like an espresso martini, I had convinced him to make a cocktail that involved sambuca and white rum. One of the bartenders joked that it would definitely put youinbed, and we agreed to serve only one or two of them per person.

Just in case.

I left the bar staff to craft their new cocktails and headed back to the main display for the birthday diva. I just knew she would be impossible.

Hours later and the music was loud and thumping. The lights were low and moody, reflecting off crystal and chrome. Staff moved with ease and grace—checking guests,smoothing tablecloths, and taking orders. Everything was sharp, clean, and precise.

Just like I needed to be.

The party was black-tie—filled with VIPs, influencers, and the kind of people who thought a velvet rope made them untouchable. The birthday girl was to be called Princess La La for the night. I refused and had opted early on forMiss, hoping she didn’t notice. I was merely the staff catering to her every whim.

It was a circus of egos dressed in sequins and suits, and I navigated it like a seasoned ringmaster.

I wore black. Sleek. No-nonsense. A blazer over a fitted top and trousers tailored to perfection. Professional enough to fit in. Powerful enough to hold my own. I’d put on high heels that allowed me to look anyone in the eye without blinking if they gave me attitude. Or in Princess La La’s case, look down on them.

I moved through the club like I belonged there. Because tonight? I did.

Rye had met me at the front of the bar earlier between events. He’d been dressed in dark gray, his eyes checking over everything. He’d given me a quick once-over, his expression unreadable.

“You got here early this morning.”

“I like to know my venue,” I said. “Makes me feel useful and in control.”

“Control’s a myth,” he muttered. “Thought we taught you at the gala?”

“Don’t ruin my coping strategy…or my mood.”

His mouth twitched as if he might smirk, but it didn’t happen. “Everything’s ready. You have full access to the upstairs floor. The main staff have been briefed. You call the shots tonight until Zayn or I say otherwise. Jayden’s moving between both levels. Heknows what he’s doing, so he’ll be fine.” He paused. “Ifhe comes to you with something he can’t handle, do what Zayn said.Walk.” Rye held my gaze. “I mean it, Isla. If Jayden can’t cope, you leave.”

“Copy that.” I mock saluted, and this time, he did smirk.

---