11. Isla
CHAPTER 11
ISLA
I wasn’t rattled.
I wasn’t.
I’d been telling myself that over and over as I paced my apartment, my wine untouched on the counter, my phone clutched too tightly in my hand.
The fact Zayn had gotten under my skin meant nothing. Nothing . It didn’t mean he’d won.
It just meant he annoyed me. More like he made me furious.
I had walked into his club thinking I could ask him about suppliers and talk to him about business, like any other man in any other meeting. And instead, I had walked away owing him a favor. More than a favor.
A favor I didn’t even know the terms of. I just knew I wouldn’t like it when he came to call it in.
I groaned, scrubbing my hands over my face, and finally, I gave in. I called Julian. He answered on the second ring.
“Isla? You okay? Why are you calling me so late?” His voice was groggy but concerned.
“It’s okay; it’s nothing to be alarmed about.”
I heard his huff of laughter, the covers rustling as he sat up in bed. “Well…that usually means you’ve done something questionable,” he teased. “Or, you’re about to make me do something questionable.”
I forced my voice into something that sounded normal. “Neither. What if I just needed to talk?”
There was a beat of silence. “All right,” he said, and I could hear how more awake he was. “What’s up?”
I cleared my throat. “The Grand’s renovation is delayed,” I blurted out. “The Shaws’ charity gala was in jeopardy.” I heard him take a breath and cut him off. “It’s okay. I fixed it. I got an alternative venue.”
“That’s a lot for someone who had nothing to say,” he said slowly. “An alternative venue? Wait…you mean Elixir, don’t you?”
My eyes were closed, my head tilted back to stare at the ceiling, but I felt like my light was probably judging me too, so I kept my eyes closed. “Yep.”
Julian whistled low. “Damn. Zayn agreed? How the hell did you pull that off?” He groaned. “Is this the bit I don’t want to know?”
I reached for my wine and took a gulp. “I made an agreement.”
Another silence. Then Julian spoke, his tone careful. “You made an…agreement?”
I scowled at my wineglass, the rich yellow liquid lukewarm. I knew by my best friend’s tone he knew something was off. “Yes. An agreement.”
“What kind of agreement, Isla?”
“A good one.”
“That’s not the answer I’m looking for, Isla.”
I huffed, shifting the phone against my ear. “Zayn agreed to let me use Elixir for the gala.”
“And what does he get?” Julian’s tone was stern.
“Payment is to be…determined.”
He was quiet for a long time. Too long. Then he spoke clearly and calmly. “No.”
I blinked at the authority in his voice. “What do you mean, no?”
“I mean absolutely not,” he said, his voice terse. “Isla, are you crazy? You don’t take undefined deals with men like Zayn McCabe.”
“You make him sound like some kind of criminal mastermind,” I scoffed. “Besides, I didn’t have a choice.”
“There is always a choice,” Julian bit out. “Why couldn’t you go back to where it was supposed to be held originally?”
Frustration surged through me. “What was I supposed to do? Go back and say hey, you know how I shifted the biggest event of the y e ar from your space to my half-finished hotel. Is there any chance you can drop everything and cater for me again? Or worse than that, tell my client I didn’t have a venue? There is no way on this earth I was telling Lyndsay Shaw that her gala wasn’t happening .”
I heard Julian blow out a breath like he was trying to control his temper. “You should have come to me.”
My mouth twisted with bitterness. I scoffed, sitting on the couch and leaning back against the cushion. “And what could you have done? Pulled a miracle out of your ass? Come on.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have gone to Zayn,” he muttered. “I would have helped you figure something out.”
I sighed. He didn’t understand. “It’s done.” My voice was quiet. Resigned. “The gala will go ahead. Lyndsay will be amazed at my ability to get a booking at the venue that is unbookable by anyone other than Zayn, and that’s the positive part of this in case you’d forgotten.”
“I’m struggling to find the positive,” Julian grumbled. “Zayn doesn’t do free favors, Isla. You owe him now.”
Did I tell him I already owed him? I thought it was probably best kept a secret. Julian never knew about the kiss. He didn’t know I went to Zayn the night he ran out of my house with a gun in his hand. He didn’t need to know now. He never needed to know that twice now when I had needed something, needed help, I had gone to Zayn.
“ Isla ?”
I clenched my jaw. “I know.”
“Do you?” he pressed. “Because it sounds to me like you walked out of there without knowing what he’s going to ask for in return.”
I swallowed, eyeing the glass of wine I’d left on the counter. I didn’t know what he would ask for, and I suspected I wouldn’t like it. I knew that was a problem. But it wasn’t a problem for today.
I heard Julian sigh again. “Look, you don’t know him, not really. I know you will do what you want to do, but just…be careful with him, all right?”
“He’s your friend,” I whispered, feeling panic settle in. I was expecting Julian to be resistant, but I wasn’t expecting his tone to sound this apprehensive.
“He is my friend,” he confirmed. “But I am very, very careful of that friendship.” I heard the faucet running and knew he was probably going to make tea. “He’s not always a good guy,” he blurted suddenly.
“I know.”
We’d had so many arguments about Zayn over the years. I’d been the voice of reason each and every time. I’d been the one who told Julian he wasn’t a good guy; now, here I was, being warned by my best friend against the very thing I’d advocated for, for years.
“I mean it,” Julian pressed. “Be careful.”
“I will.” Even though I knew he couldn’t see me, I nodded.
“I’ll talk to him,” he said, and I sat up instinctively. “Either try to get him to be…nice,” he said, sounding like he had choked on the very idea of it, “or let you out of this altogether.”
“I need the Elixir for the gala,” I pressed. “I’m not letting that go.”
“Isla…”
“No.”
He said nothing more about it, we said our goodbyes, and I put the phone down. But I knew Julian well enough to know this wasn’t the end of this conversation.
He’d be hovering. Watching. Waiting for the moment Zayn called in his favor.
And I was honest enough with myself. I knew I was waiting for it, too.
And maybe even looking forward to it.
* * *
I took a deep breath, rolling my shoulders back as I adjusted my blazer. Calm. Composed. Professional.
That’s what I needed to be.
I entered the hotel and made my way to the conservatory, saying hello to those I passed. When I walked in, the first person I saw was Pete, the project foreman. He took one look at me and immediately left.
Good thing I wasn’t easily offended. The speed he left at would have been insulting if I hadn’t known he was running from me because of what he had done.
Gerard was at his favorite table, drinking coffee, with a basket of fresh pastries in front of him. He looked up as I approached.
“Isla,” he greeted me with a smile. “The coffee’s fresh,” he said, gesturing to the opposite chair. “Sit, sit, we have lots to discuss.”
Didn’t we just.
“Any news on the suppliers?” I cut to the chase as I poured myself a coffee.
Gerard faltered. “Um…”
I stirred it idly, adding nothing to it, it was merely a delaying tactic. “Four weeks’ delay is not what I planned for,” I carried on smoothly. “Being hundreds of thousands over budget was not something I accounted for.” I placed the teaspoon to the side and lifted my coffee cup to my lips. “Canceling events is not what I do. Ever .”
He shifted in his seat as I watched him over the rim of my cup. “Your vision for The Grand is…” His hands spread out in front of him. “Visionary.”
“My vision is visionary.” My tone was as dry as my sense of humor in this situation.
Gerard was flustered, and I took perverse glee from that. He had fucked up. Not me. I knew it and he knew I did. This disaster was not one in which the client blamed the event planner.
Gerard dropped his act. He would forever be an eccentric, but right now, he knew the carefully worn facade of being a ditzy eccentric was not going to get him out of this.
“What can I say, Isla?” he asked me, picking up his own coffee cup. “I loved your ideas, and I wanted more. I am prepared to wait for my hotel to reach perfection.”
“I had events planned here. I had one of the biggest events of the season planned for here.”
Gerard looked away, his gaze traveling over the carefully cared for manicured landscaped grounds.
And it hit me. The realization so obvious I couldn’t believe I’d missed it.
“You did this on purpose.” My cup rattled as I put it back down. “You sabotaged your own hotel?” I asked incredulously.
His attention was on me instantly, his face calm. “No.” He reached forward and plucked a croissant from the basket. “My hotel, this hotel, was not sharing its grand reopening with a charity gala for cats .”
Oh my god.
I felt my blood begin to boil. “You couldn’t tell me that when I suggested to you that the charity gala be part of the reopening of The Grand Gracemont?” I asked, my nails digging into my palms as they lay in fists on my lap.
Gerard waved his croissant between us. “Isla, I adore you. I do. You’re charming, hardworking, and incredibly efficient.” He looked at me with a condescending smile. “But this is my hotel. Your ideas are good, brilliant at times, but I do not share the publicity.” He dropped his pastry and wiped his impeccably manicured hands on his linen napkin. “My hotel will shine alone or not at all.”
Inside, I was seething. Furious. This was worse than being manipulated by Zayn. I refused to let another man show he had gotten the better of me. Carefully, I pushed my chair back and stood. “I wish you all the best, Mr. Fitzsimmons. It will really be beautiful when it is finished, whenever that is.”
I walked out of the conservatory, ignoring his confused shout of Isla. M y body was vibrating with rage. My heels clicked on the tiles as I made my way down the hall, and I was careful to keep my emotions in check so I could swear loudly and colorfully in the comfort of my car.
In the car, I put it in drive, and I drove cautiously down the long private entranceway. I didn’t speed. I didn’t do anything I wouldn’t normally do.
I was controlled .
Five minutes later, I was out of the car, pacing on the roadside, swearing into the early-morning sunlight about egotistical men with small pricks, big attitudes, and zero humility.
I wished I could say it made me feel better. It didn’t.
How could I have been so blind? I thought I had read the room right. I thought this was what Gerard wanted. Now he didn’t want to share the limelight. Since when ?
The more I paced, the more I fumed. The more I went over every single conversation.
I hadn’t missed this. It had never been there. I knew people. I could read people. I knew Gerard for God’s sake. Coming to a stop, I reached into the car and into my purse and picked up my phone.
He wouldn’t.
My finger hovered over Zayn’s name. The longer I lingered, the more certain I became.
I hit dial.
“Unless you’re offering your services, I’m not interested.” He sounded gruff as if I had woken him up.
“My services?” One sentence, and he had me on the defensive.
“Mouth or pussy, I’ll take either, probably both.” This time, I heard his laughter.
Asshole .
“You fucked with my client,” I snapped, ignoring the flush in my cheeks, which was no longer from anger.
Zayn groaned. “Isla, babe, you’re becoming obsessive; it’s not a quality I like in you.” The bastard yawned. “Was there something you wanted? Something that involves less talking?”
I hung up.
Getting back in my car, I threw the phone in my purse, convinced he had messed with Gerard somehow.
Or Rye had.
No. This was Zayn. I just knew this was Zayn. He might not have had anything to do with the supplier delays, but I would put money on the fact he had gotten into Gerard’s head.
I knew from experience how skilled he was at that .
Smoothing my hands over my hair, I twisted my ponytail between my fingers and wished it was a noose around Zayn’s neck. With a groan, I pushed murderous thoughts aside, flipping open my compact. I had a meeting with Lyndsay Shaw next, and I needed to look composed.
My eyes were bright with anger. I hoped it would be mistaken for enthusiasm. Signaling, I pulled out onto the road and resumed my drive over to the Shaw Foundation.
I had broken bigger news to more difficult clients before. This was just another meeting. Except it wasn’t. Because I wasn’t just informing anyone—I was about to tell Lyndsay Shaw, one of the biggest names in Gracemont’s social circles—that her grand gala, the one everyone knew was the social event of the year, was no longer happening at the venue I had talked her into changing to.
As I walked into the Shaw Foundation’s sleek downtown office building, my grip on my purse tightened. The lobby was quiet, starkly contrasting to the rolling of my gut.
I checked in at the front desk, and within minutes, I was being led to her corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows giving an unmatched view of Gracemont. Lyndsay stood behind her desk, bent over a paper as she signed it, she glanced up at me letting me know she knew I was there.
We both knew I wasn’t supposed to be here. This was an unplanned meeting. Her look was one of calculation as the assistant left the room, taking the papers with her.
Lyndsay offered me a polite, measured smile. “Isla.”
“Ms. Shaw,” I greeted, keeping my voice smooth. I set my bag down, taking a seat when she gestured to the chair across from her desk.
“Tell me,” she began, dropping the niceties. “What is happening with the gala?”
She looked calm, but I knew she was about to be very, very irritated.
I swallowed. Here we go.
“Things are…progressing,” I started carefully, choosing my words.
“But?”
I failed to hide the slight wince at her sharp tone. “But there’s been an unexpected turn of events with The Grand Gracemont.”
“Explain.”
“I’ve needed to shift the venue.”
Her brows lifted slightly. “Shift?” Her cool gaze swept over my turquoise shift dress and blazer. “From the ballroom?”
Well…
I nodded. “Given the additional renovations for the hotel, I won’t go into details,” I said because I no longer knew if I knew them. “It’s pushed the timeline for completion beyond the scheduled date for the gala.”
Lyndsay’s focus was razor-sharp, her jaw tensed slightly. “I see. Was this not something you assured me wouldn’t happen?”
I nodded. My palms felt clammy, but I kept my tone firm but reassuring. “I’ve already secured an alternative venue—one that will provide the exclusivity and high-profile atmosphere your event demands.”
“But the invitations have been sent,” she reminded me.
“I know, and I will incur the cost of resending them; we can say it’s a marketing trick.”
Her cool gaze turned frosty. “I don’t do tricks .”
“Poor word choice,” I muttered. “The Grand Gracemont won’t be ready,” I told her bluntly. “I will not let this event be anything less than you expect from me. It will be exactly as we discussed, just in a different venue.”
She watched me intently. “Which venue?”
“Elixir.” I didn’t pause for breath. “It’s new, recently renovated to a really high spec, it’s sought-after, exclusive, and?—”
“I know what it is.” Lyndsay watched me. “Elixir,” she repeated slowly.
“Yes,” I confirmed. I couldn’t tell if she was excited or not. “I understand that this isn’t the original plan, but the space is?—”
“You do realize I chose the hotel because I wanted a controlled environment.” She spoke over me, her voice calm but definitely cool. “One that wasn’t attached to certain...reputations.”
Oh hell . I clenched my jaw. She knew Zayn. Or she knew of Zayn. I wasn’t sure if that was worse.
I kept my composure. “Elixir has two levels. The upper floor, where the gala will be held, is a luxury venue that rivals any other space in The Grand Gracemont.” I folded my hands in my lap, sure if I dug my nails in much more I’d draw blood. “Your guest list includes some of the most influential names within a three-hundred-mile radius. Many of whom have already attended other high-profile events there. It’s exclusive, sleek, and, most importantly, available.”
Lyndsay didn’t speak right away. She studied me, her gaze assessing, searching for a sign that I wasn’t entirely confident in what I was saying.
I refused to waver.
Finally, she looked away, her finger tapping against her chin. “And Zayn McCabe agreed to this?”
She knew his name. Shit. I nodded. “Yes. I discussed it with him myself.”
Another pause, then a slow, knowing smirk. “And what exactly did that cost you?”
She really did know him. I didn’t let my calm demeanor slip. “A professional arrangement.”
I didn’t add between friends . We weren’t.
Lyndsay’s smirk deepened, but to my relief, she said nothing more. She stood, and I rose too. “Fine.”
I blinked uncertainly. “Fine?”
“Elixir it is,” she said, walking around her desk and leading me to the door. “Resend the invites; do not bill me for it. I expect my gala to be flawless, Isla. “
“It will be.”
She nodded and held the door open as I left her office. “This is your last chance, Isla.”
Turning back, I met her stare. “There will be no more mistakes,” I assured her confidently. The door closed in my face, and I let out the breath I felt I’d been holding since I walked in there.
As I walked out of the building and stepped into the street, I exhaled slowly, steadying my breath.
One hurdle down.
Now I just had to survive the next one.
Working with Zayn.