13. Isla
CHAPTER 13
ISLA
The moment I’d pushed open the doors into the main club yesterday, I’d felt different.
Lighter.
Freer.
It was the same feeling today. The door downstairs had opened easily, and there were no huge hulking guys waiting. I’d ascended the staircase alone, no eyes tracking my every move. No more silent, watchful presence in the corners of the room. Scanning the main club with the lights on and daylight streaming through the high windows, I smiled.
He had given me what I wanted.
My eyes flicked to the many cameras that dotted the walls and ceiling. Discreet. Unobtrusive. I only noticed them because I’d been inside his office and seen the wall of screens.
Well….one pair of eyes was possibly still watching. Swallowing hard, I looked away, remembering the way he had touched me yesterday. He had mocked me, he always mocked me, but I’d never met anyone like him, someone who was so confident in taking control.
Checking my watch, I saw how early it was. I knew I had woken Zayn the other day, and I doubted he would be awake yet. So there was someone here but possibly not him. Or Rye.
My eyes flicked to the door leading to another entrance I was desperate to peek at, but I stopped myself from taking one step towards it. Yesterday, I had been outside it, my hand reaching for the handle before I stopped myself.
He had trusted me with this. Trusted me to respect the trust he was showing me. I would not prove him right. I would do what I needed and relish in the freedom of being able to move without being watched.
Unpacking my tote and setting up my workstation, I started checking all the checklists, including the one I had sent to Rye for the cleaners, who I noted had already been here. I knew Elixir had been open last night, but the place was spotless.
A tentative knock had me turning around as the first of the vendors poked his head around the door. “Hey, Isla, we’re parked out front. We good to start unloading?”
I greeted him with a wide smile. “Absolutely.”
The morning rushed past, more and more things started arriving, and despite how busy I was, I still found myself looking for him .
It was ridiculous. I should have been relieved—no, I should’ve been focused —but my mind kept circling back to the way he crowded my space, the way his fingers brushed my skin, and the way his voice wrapped around me like a promise. Or a threat.
I didn’t trust myself when I was near him.
And yet I kept looking. A glance too often at the main door. A sweeping look up at the cameras. Was he there ? I snorted. Zayn did not strike me as a voyeur.
I shook the thoughts away, pushing them deep down where they belonged. I had work to do. Everything I had been working so hard for the last few weeks had finally arrived.
The gala was tonight, and I had so much to do.
The event would either cement me as a power player in this industry or have me crashing and burning in front of Gracemont’s elite.
I moved through the space, taking in the layout, lighting, and flow of the room. I adjusted the tables slightly and shifted a chair an inch to the right, my eye for detail focused as I set up the space, using the existing layout and enhancing it until luxurious dining tables were created. The tables would be dressed later; for now, they were preparing the stage for the charity speakers. I was checking the placement of the high-profile guests so they could see everything and, most importantly, be seen .
The venue was perfect.
The problem? It wasn’t supposed to be here.
As if summoned, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I sighed when I saw Gerard’s name on the screen.
He’d called me four times this week, and I was still pissed enough not to answer him, directing him to voicemail, but as I scanned the space, I felt guilty at the ease with which I had stepped into Elixir and claimed it for this event.
The Grand’s event.
With a sigh, I answered the phone, pressing it to my ear. “Isla Wells speaking.”
“Isla.” Gerard’s voice was tight, frustrated. “How kind of you to answer.”
“I can hang up if you prefer?” Easy, Isla . One week in Zayn’s space had me being far too free with my tongue.
“When are you returning to the hotel? You have commitments to finish here.”
I stopped myself from tearing him a new one. Again. Because he was right. Though he had done everything possible to sabotage his own hotel’s reopening, he was still a client.
“I’m aware of my clients’ needs,” I told him before I could stop myself. “When they let me.”
I heard Gerard sigh. “Isla, it’s my hotel, my right to do what I want,” he said, and he almost sounded petulant. “But…” He let out a huge sigh. “The project foreman is really getting quite cumbersome to work with, and he said yesterday he wasn’t coming back until you were.”
Go, Pete .
“You put me in a very difficult position.” My voice was cold, and I nodded to one of the hired staff when they held up a champagne flute and pointed to the table. “I was managing The Grand’s renovations for weeks, Gerard. Weeks . I had it all within my control, delays, budget increases, and every tiny thing that threatened the gala being held there. Only to lose it all because of you and your recklessness.” I saw a few curious stares, and I turned my back on the event staff and walked to a quieter corner.
“Isla…”
“I gave you all the information you needed to complete the work,” I replied evenly. Mentally, I ran through the list, knowing where they should be by now. “Your delivery of brocade curtains should have come yesterday. Did it?”
Gerard sighed loudly. “Yes, but there are still things?—”
“What things? I left you very detailed notes. Very detailed,” I added on sharply. “You made it quite clear you didn’t want to work with me on this project.”
Silence.
When Gerard spoke again, he sounded less sullen and more like the businessman he should have been about a month ago. “My contract is with you, and yours with this hotel is still intact.” He cleared his throat. “Lyndsay Shaw is not the only one Gracemont elite listen to, Isla. Do you really want rumors? Or shall I see you back here tomorrow?”
I pulled the phone from my ear and looked at it in disbelief. “You’re threatening me?”
Gerard sighed, sounding exhausted. “No , my dear girl, I am reminding you that I am your client , and as such , I expect a service, Isla. You came to me with your plan for The Grand. I am just reminding you that I trust you to fulfill it.”
I licked my teeth. I really wanted to tell him to go to hell. I thought I had told him that, but he was right. This was not how I treated my clients.
“I have the charity gala all day, and tomorrow’s cleanup,” I told him curtly. “This event is no longer your concern, but I’ll see you Monday morning to discuss the reopening of The Grand. “
There was a beat of silence.
“Understood,” he said, clipped and unhappily.
I exhaled as I ended the call, shoving my phone back into my pocket before I was tempted to throw it across the damn room.
With a sigh, I returned to the event I did have control over, and soon, I was able to push The Grand to the back of my mind.
It was almost lunchtime when I was mid-checklist, finalizing seating plans as sent by Lyndsay, when my phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
I hesitated. I knew deep down who this was even though I already had his number, but the puzzle didn’t stop me from answering.
“Isla Wells.”
A low chuckle hummed through the speaker. “You sound tense, little Isla.”
My stomach flipped at the sound of Zayn’s voice, but I also knew I didn’t have time for this. “What do you want? I’m busy.”
“Too busy for me?” he mocked. “I’m hurt.”
I looked up at the camera and rolled my eyes, but I dipped my head, feeling the warmth creeping over my cheeks, betraying my reaction to him. “Is there a reason you’re calling?”
His voice was as smooth as ever. “Just checking in.”
“Checking in?”
“Yes, it was part of our deal, remember?” His tone got more serious. “You’re in my club. That makes you my concern.”
“I thought we agreed that I wasn’t to be watched?” I snapped, irritation spiking through me.
“And I thought we agreed you would check in.”
I’d been so unsure he would keep his agreement, then so amazed he had, I’d forgotten to keep up my end of the bargain. I’d sent a text message last night when I left. “I forgot to tell you,” I admitted, my voice no more than a mumble.
“I do prefer it if you check in.”
Of course, he did. Contr o l freak .
“Well…” I gripped the phone a little tighter, my shoulders tense. “Consider yourself informed.” I felt a little bit guilty. I had forgotten. “I’ve been busy,” I said. It wasn’t an apology. “There’s a lot to do, the gala is this evening, and…well.”
I expected him to let it go.
But instead, his voice dropped into something lower. Something smug .
“Is that why you’ve been looking for me?”
I froze.
I gulped, a guilty flush staining my cheeks. I looked down, angling myself away from the obvious cameras above me. “I haven’t…”
Zayn hummed. “Liar.”
My jaw clenched, and I forced myself to sound calm. “Zayn, I don’t have time for you today.”
He was so silent I thought he’d hung up, and I started to pull the phone away from my ear when his voice wrapped around me like smoke. “Don’t you?”
I hung up.
I wasn’t doing this. Not with him. Not today. Not when I had an event to pull off. I didn’t have time for flirting.
My breath caught. Flirting. Oh my God, was I flirting with him? Was he flirting with me? This was a game to him; I knew that. He was just being a dick. Playing with me, pretending to be chasing. He did it to keep me at a disadvantage. I was sure of it.
It was all a game to Zayn.
I didn’t want to think of what he’d do if I ever stopped running. No. I didn’t even need to entertain the idea of what would happen if he caught me.
* * *
The evening was perfect.
The kind of flawless execution that event planners lived for—where every carefully curated detail blended together into something that looked completely effortless.
Elegant floral and glass centerpieces adorned the main bar and tables. The flowers were subtle enough not to offend my nostrils, and there wasn’t a lily in sight. Large swaths of linen draped over the ceiling, concealing the nightclub lights and adding a soft ambience to the space. The clinking of champagne glasses blended with the low hum of conversation as Gracemont’s elite moved around the area, their laughter polished, their wealth seemingly effortless.
Waiters in crisp black uniforms weaved seamlessly through the crowd, balancing silver trays of delicate hors d’oeuvres and top-shelf whiskey. The whiskey was courtesy of Zayn; it had been his donation to the gala. Lyndsay said nothing, but she accepted it. The auctioneer was already preparing for the night’s bidding war, and on the far side of the room, a string quartet played something classic and expensive.
The massive ice sculpture of the fiddle-playing cat was the centerpiece at the main entrance and was the focal point of conversation among the guests as they arrived.
The four-course meal was due to be served in the next ten minutes, and the waiters were carefully and respectfully directing guests to their seats.
This was everything I had planned. Everything I had fought for.
And yet, I felt like I was waiting for something to go wrong.
I stood near the entrance, tablet in hand, scanning the room with practiced precision. The guests were happy, and the VIPs were comfortable. The press had already been snapping photos of who was here, who wasn’t, and who was pretending not to see each other.
Lyndsay caught my eye, and she lifted her glass slightly before turning back to her guests.
I exhaled slowly, willing myself to relax. This was a win.
A big one.
I felt a giddy smile spread across my face. I’d done it .
Checking my tablet one more time, I made my way to the door Zayn had taken me through the night I went to his office. A giant stood in front of it, watching me approach.
This had been the only hiccup. I wasn’t allowed near the kitchens. They were at the back of the building, and I was under a strict “stay in the main club” order.
“Still?” I asked him, and he shot me a simple smile. The giant guard was hot, but my flirting had fallen on deaf ears. “Appetizers coming out in eight?” I asked him, and he paused before nodding.
I liked to be in the kitchens. I liked to see the plates of food before they went out. I liked to be hands-on .
He didn’t move, and with a sharp stab of irritation, I turned away. Eight minutes later, the doors at the back opened, and the waitstaff poured out with military precision I couldn’t take credit for. I’d asked why they were allowed access, and Rye had told me Elixir had its own catering staff.
It wasn’t unheard of for venues, but was it weird that this was a nightclub? I pushed the thought from my mind as I watched all three hundred guests being served within minutes of one another. Once more, I saw Lyndsay look at me; her expression told me she was impressed.
I nodded slightly in acknowledgment. This was the kind of night that would be talked about for months. The success that would come from this would develop my reputation as well as potential clients’ trust in me. This would be one of my greatest events, and I was thrilled.
And yet, my pulse thrummed, my nerves stretched too tight.
Straightening my shoulders, I looked to the corners of the club one more time. I hadn’t seen him yet, but I could feel him here no matter how much I told myself otherwise.
I knew when he was near. The air in the room thickened and shifted, like the muscles in my body tensing in preparation. I scanned the crowd one more time.
And then—there.
Zayn was leaning against the far bar, dressed in a black-on-black suit that made him look every bit as dangerous as I knew he was. His dark hair was styled in a way I’d never seen it. He was clean-shaven. An untouched glass of whiskey was in front of him.
He looked amazing.
He looked as if he owned the room.
He wasn’t talking to anyone. He wasn’t mingling. He was just…watching.
Watching me .
His gaze traveled over me slowly, lingering on the one-shoulder black dress I had chosen for its blend of elegance and daring allure. The design featured an off-the-shoulder silhouette on one side with a transparent panel accentuating the curve of my shoulder. This served as the perfect backdrop for an intricate array of dark crystals arranged in a radiant starburst pattern, creating the illusion they were embedded directly in my skin, catching the light with every movement.
I chose it because it was form-fitting, sleek, and modern but not enough to make me stand out. However, the way he was looking at me, I was no longer sure about that.
Heat pricked at my skin, but I refused to let my expression slip from my cool and calm demeanor. I lifted my chin, pretending I wasn’t affected. Pretending like my stomach didn’t tighten the way it always did when he looked at me like that.
Like he was waiting.
Like he was enjoying that I felt him. That I reacted to him.
I dropped my head to look at my tablet, forcing my focus elsewhere. Not tonight. Tonight, I was in control.
Tonight, this was my world.
Not his.
But even as I pretended to check off another item, my hand steady and professional, I couldn’t stop the awareness settling deep in my bones.
Nothing ever stayed under control when Zayn was here.