9. Isla
CHAPTER 9
ISLA
Zayn smiled. An actual smile. It lacked warmth. “You’ve accused me of that already. Don’t make the mistake of doing it again.” He held my stare for a long moment before letting out an amused chuckle. “You never fail to surprise me, Is.” He sounded casual, but his eyes were hard. “Let me get this straight. You’ve spent weeks trying to maneuver against me, being very bold and transparent about your intentions for The Grand, aiming to compete against me, and now...now you want my help because you fucked up?”
“I’d owe you.”
His look turned mocking. “You owe me already, Isla, the tab is long overdue.”
I refused to reply to that. “It’s business.”
“I agree. It’s my business. Your project is in direct competition with Elixir.” He looked me over. “And I don’t owe you anything, Isla.”
The way he said my name sent something hot through my chest—anger, most likely, irritation, and something else I didn’t want to name.
“I can pay.” I swallowed my pride. “Whatever it takes.”
Zayn studied me, the corner of his lip tugging upwards as he assessed me. “That’s cute.”
I stiffened in my seat. “Excuse me?”
“You think this is about money?” He looked around the room, reaching over to pick up something from his desk. I jumped when the top row of screens came to life, showing scenes from the club. It was even busier. “Do I look like I need your money?” My gaze darted back to his, and I saw the coldness he watched me with. “I don’t need money.” I hated the way he looked at me. “Hmmm...what do I need from you...” He let the words linger, let the air shift between us, heavy with unspoken possibilities.
“I get it.” I pushed myself to my feet, but looking down at him, I had the distinct impression standing didn’t put me in a stronger position. “I wasted my time.” I turned away from him and headed to the main door.
“I’m not finished.”
At the door, I looked at him over my shoulder. He hadn’t moved.
I braced myself. “What?”
His smirk deepened. “A deal.”
My pulse kicked. A surge of hope ran through me. “What kind of deal?”
Zayn leaned back, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. “You’re delayed what? Four weeks?”
I knew the bastard knew, so instead of shouting at him like I wanted to, I simply nodded in confirmation. His warning about accusing him of being involved again was still fresh in my mind.
“The charity gala is the most important event of your year.” His eyes were cold. Assessing. “A reckless move on your part to move the venue to The Grand…” He looked at me with mockery. “One may even say a desperate move.”
“Go to hell.” I turned my back on him, deciding this was getting me nowhere. I heard a sound behind me and knew he had left his seat.
A hand at my elbow turned me, and before I knew it, my back was against the door. Zayn stood so close to me, but he had dropped his hand from my elbow, careful not to touch me.
He towered over me. My heart was racing, and my hands pressed into my sides. “Zayn?”
“I can’t help your supply problem,” he spoke bluntly. “I can save your gala.”
“What?” My throat was so dry it came out in a husky whisper.
Cold gray eyes watched me. “You get your gala, one event, here. No rental fee.”
My eyes narrowed on his. The offer sounded too good to be true. “And what do you get?”
His gaze stayed locked onto mine. “I’ll let you know when I decide.”
I should’ve walked away. I should’ve told him to shove it up his ass. I should have let him know I didn’t owe him a damn thing, then or now. Especially now.
But I knew I couldn’t. I didn’t have that luxury.
I needed this.
I needed him.
And Zayn?
He knew it.
So I bargained.
“I have complete control of the space. I don’t want you or your sidekick near it.” When did I get so bold? I pressed back into the door when he leaned forward, the palm of his hand resting on the door. He was far too close to me. “Agreed?” I would not be intimidated by him. Or distracted by the fact he smelled amazing.
“No.”
“Then no deal.” I drew myself up straighter and tried to make myself taller, but all I did was press against him.
A slow, lazy smile crossed his face. “Oh, there’s a deal,” he mocked, leaning down closer. “There’s always a deal, Isla.” His voice was a low murmur, brushing against my skin like a promise—or a threat; I was no longer sure. His gray eyes flickered over my face, searching, calculating. “The question is, would you be willing to pay the price?”
My heart pounded in my chest. I was sure he could feel it, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. “I’m not interested in whatever you think this is or whatever game you’re playing, Zayn.”
His smile deepened, slow and knowing. “But you are.” A knuckle traced over my cheekbone. “You just don’t like that I can see right through you.” His head dropped another millimeter, shifting his lips to my ear. “Or that I make the rules.”
I swallowed, meeting his eye, refusing to back down. “I get Elixir for the gala.” My voice sounded so sure even though my body was humming with the energy of him being so close to me. “One event, nothing more. You and Rye? Do nothing. I don’t need you there. You stay away.”
“Bold.”
He didn’t move. He wasn’t moving. The heat between us was making me dizzy. Reckless with my words. “You’ll give me this as payment for fucking up my project.”
His hand was on my throat in a flash—loose but firm enough to remind me exactly who was in control. The move was so quick, so effortless, I barely had time to react before my breath hitched, my pulse hammering against his palm.
“Tsk, tsk, little Isla.” Zayn’s voice was low, almost amused, but there was a dangerous undercurrent beneath it. A warning. A promise. His thumb brushed the side of my neck, a slow, deliberate touch that sent heat slithering down my spine. “I warned you.”
His breath danced over my lips; he was so close the space between us felt nonexistent. My hands clenched at my sides, fighting the urge to break away. I knew I could, but I was battling something even more dangerous—the impulse to pull him closer.
“Now you’ll pay twice,” he murmured, his lips a breath away from mine, his eyes dark with something unreadable.
The tension between us was thick with something I refused to identify. I should have pushed him away. I should have knocked his hand aside, snapped at him—something sharp, something that reminded him I wasn’t the kind of woman who let a man take control of her.
But I didn’t move.
I didn’t speak.
And neither did he.
We held each other’s stare in silent challenge for a long moment, the air between us still tense. His grip on my throat didn’t tighten, didn’t demand—just existed, a quiet reminder of the power play unfolding between us.
My breath came out shallow but controlled, but when my eyes flickered down—to his lips, to the space that separated us—I knew I’d made a mistake.
By the time I looked back up, it was too late.
Triumph gleamed in his cold and knowing gaze. He had seen it. The hesitation, the curiosity, the betrayal of my own thoughts, and my instincts to lean in.
Zayn’s smirk deepened, slow and devastating. “Careful, Isla,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against my pulse, sending sparks racing over my skin. “You look at me like that, and I might start thinking this is what you wanted.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, but I refused to look away this time, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me falter again. “In your dreams, McCabe.”
Zayn’s hold loosened enough he was barely touching me, but he didn’t move back. If anything, he leaned in closer, his mouth a whisper from mine.
“Maybe.” His voice was velvet-wrapped sin. “But what happens when I make it yours?”
Heat pooled in my core, traitorous and undeniable. My body wasn’t listening to logic, wasn’t thinking of how this was a terrible idea.
I was going to do something so foolish.
I didn’t trust myself—not with him, not in this moment, not with the way he looked at me as if he knew how close I was to breaking. Panic flared in my chest at that realization, sharp and immediate, shattering the spell he’d cast over me.
I jerked away from him, pressing my hands against his chest as I shoved him back a step, ducking under his arm before he could stop me. My breathing was ragged, my pulse erratic, and I hated that he had pushed me so close to making a mistake.
When I spun around, ready to demand what the hell he thought he was playing at, I found him exactly as I should have expected, unbothered .
Zayn was leaning against the door, arms crossed, head tilted, watching me like he’d just been thoroughly entertained, and then…he laughed.
Low. Amused. Infuriating.
Bastard.
“Running?” he drawled, his eyes glittering with something wicked. “Where’s all that righteous fight gone, Isla?”
Desperately, I tried to control my emotions; I could not let him see how rattled I was. “You’re a prick.” He said nothing, and I snapped, “I’m not running!”
“No?” Zayn pushed off the door, closing the space between us once more, and I refused to step back. I would not give ground. “It sure as hell looks like you are.”
Squaring my shoulders, I swallowed hard. “I came here to talk to you, not…” I faltered. “Not whatever that was.”
Zayn watched me with amusement. “And yet, here we are.”
Desperate to regain some semblance of control, I forced myself to be as calm as he was. I wouldn’t play his game. Not this one. I couldn’t. The pull towards him was still there. I wanted desperately to step closer, and I didn’t know why.
“Can we get back to the point of why I am here?” I asked him curtly.
“I thought we were.”
Asshole.
“You’ll give me Elixir for the gala?”
“For a price.”
“You said I didn’t have to pay the venue fee,” I countered testily.
“I don’t give away anything for free.”
I needed out of here. “Fine. What is it? What do you want from me?”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” He walked past me to his desk, making me turn around and watch him as he took a seat behind the desk. Our roles were very clear with that simple movement. “I told you before. I’ll let you know when I decide.”
“I’m not sleeping with you.” My eyes widened in horror at my outburst, but Zayn tipped his head back and laughed loudly.
When he glanced back at me, the mockery returned. “You’re the most conceited bitch I’ve ever met,” he told me directly. “Tell Rye the date you need on your way out.” He gave me a cunning smile. “Though, I think he might already know,” Zayn continued smoothly. “One venue, one gala saved , payment to be made later.” He paused. “And I don’t pay for sex, Is, so don’t think you are insulting me.”
I swallowed hard, my pulse thrumming in my ears.
Zayn leaned back in his chair, watching me with lazy amusement, his fingers resting idly against the armrest. That slow, knowing smirk still curved his lips, like he was enjoying every second of this.
Heat flooded my cheeks, and for once, it wasn’t from attraction—it was from sheer, mortifying frustration.
“I didn’t mean?—”
He waved a hand, cutting me off. “No, you did.” His voice was smooth and casual as if he were discussing the weather rather than calling me out. “You assumed the price would be you because, in your pretty little head, you think I’d actually need to negotiate for that.”
My stomach twisted at his words, my hands curling into fists. “You really are an asshole.”
“And you’re still here,” he countered, studying me. “So what does that make you?”
I sucked in a sharp breath, hating him, hating this, hating that he had all the control right now. But I wasn’t walking away. Not yet. Because I needed this deal.
But as his gaze flickered over me, dark and unreadable, I had the sinking feeling it didn’t matter.
I detested the fact he was enjoying this. Hated that my pulse was still racing from earlier, knowing that a part of me was almost curious to know what would have happened had I not moved away.
Most of all, I hated that I had no choice but to be here.
Zayn watched me for a long moment before exhaling a dramatic sigh. “Tell Rye the date,” he repeated like he was already bored of me. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
There was no point prolonging the suffering anymore. Zayn already knew I’d lost. I straightened my shoulders, lifting my chin. “Fine.”
His smirk deepened. “Good girl.”
I pivoted on my heel before I could say something that might truly cost me, striding towards the door with as much dignity as I could manage.
“And, Isla?”
I stopped, hand gripping the handle, but I didn’t turn around. I was barely holding on as it was.
His voice was low, smooth. Dangerous.
“Next time you think about insulting me,” he murmured, “try harder.”
My nails pressed into my palm as I yanked the door open and stepped out, slamming it shut behind me with more force than necessary. The sharp, final sound echoed in the hallway, but it did nothing to quiet the pounding in my chest.
I had to resist the urge to run down the stairs, every instinct within me pushing to create as much distance as possible between myself and the devil behind that door. My breathing was uneven, and my hands clenched into fists as I forced myself to walk—not run—through the bright corridor towards the security guard who was clearly waiting for me at the end.
The security guy didn’t acknowledge me, nor did I acknowledge him. My mind was still in the office. I could still feel Zayn, still hear the mocking edge in his voice, still smell the faint mix of whiskey and something darker that clung to him. The heat of his words and his body lingered as if he had burned himself into my skin, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake it.
I wanted to stop, catch my breath, and take a second, but I’d seen the cameras and had no doubt he was watching me leave.
Get a grip.
I refused to admit he had unsettled me. I wasn’t shaken. I wasn’t.
I was furious. Furious that I had been put in this position, that I had to owe him for anything. That was all this was.
Anger…
As I left Elixir, ignoring Rye’s expectant gaze at the entrance, I told myself that was the truth.
But deep down, beneath the rage, something far more dangerous lurked.
Desire.