15. Zayn
CHAPTER 15
ZAYN
I watched her leave. Watched the way she lifted her chin, smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, and forced herself to walk away like she wasn’t burning. Like she wasn’t rattled. Like she wasn’t seconds away from breaking.
It wasn’t personal. It had never been personal. She walked into Elixir and thought she could control it. I had simply corrected her mistake.
I turned my attention back to the room, to the people still caught up in their own worlds, unaware of the game being played around them.
Unaware Isla Wells had just learned a very important lesson.
I never gave up control.
“You put on quite the event,” Lyndsay Shaw said as she sidled up beside me. “Enjoying your success?”
I turned, finding her watching me over the rim of her champagne glass. The corner of her mouth lifted in amusement as if she knew something more than she should.
I swept my gaze over her. Her skintight dress revealed too much. It fitted her well, but it looked uncomfortable. I wondered if she had taken a full breath ever since putting it on. Trying too hard . “I always enjoy a successful night.”
Lyndsay hummed an acknowledgment, taking another sip of her drink. “You certainly pulled out all the stops.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to. Lyndsay was a businesswoman; she knew exactly what happened tonight.
Isla built it. I had taken it.
Not stolen it, which was what I knew Isla would think. I had just reminded her nothing under this roof happened without my say. That every single detail, every interaction, every carefully orchestrated moment had my name on it…not hers.
Lyndsay looked around, pretending to look for Isla. “My event planner looked…displeased.”
“Really?” I turned to look at her. “I thought she looked very professional.”
Lyndsay scoffed. “She left.”
I huffed a quiet laugh. “She’ll get over it.” I glanced at the head of the Shaw Foundation. “She did a hell of a lot of work here.”
Lyndsay shrugged off the compliment I gave Isla like it didn’t concern her, more focused on the tension between Isla and me. “Will she?” She exchanged an empty flute for a fresh one. “She left,” she said again. “An event planner who doesn’t see the event through to completion doesn’t fill me with confidence.” She stepped closer to me. “Unless…of course, there’s another reason? A personal one, perhaps?”
“I’ve known Isla since we were fifteen, maybe sixteen?” I shrugged. “I suppose you could say after that length of time anything could be personal. Don’t you think so?”
I let the question settle between us. I didn’t need to fuel gossip.
Lyndsay shook her head. “You know, I’ve done business with so many men like you, Zayn.” When I didn’t speak, she carried on. “The kind of men who own the board before anyone else even realizes they’re playing.” Her look became calculated. “Taking a win is one thing. Keeping it?” Her smile became sly. “That’s another.”
That genuinely amused me. “You think I’ll lose?”
Lyndsay shrugged. “Isla is resilient. She isn’t the type to give up quietly, and that’s one of the reasons I like working with her.”
I assessed her with one glance. “But the charity gala will be held here next year, am I correct?” I knew I was; her smile confirmed it. “And all these people here.” I gestured subtly to the crowd still having a great evening. “This is where they’ll want their own events to be held because tonight, and every night, my venue delivers.”
“Probably.”
“So why care about a board?”
Lyndsay shook her head. “I do hope it wasn’t personal to Isla,” she said softly. “She’s too good for someone so brutal.”
A slow smile curled my lips. “She is.”
Lyndsay was called over to another group of people, and I considered what she had said. I knew Isla would be furious, was furious, and I knew this wasn’t over for her. She would not go down quietly, and that made me smile.
Because I didn’t want her to be quiet. I wanted to see what she did next. I wanted to see how she tried to fight back.
Because the truth was, I wasn’t ready for her little feud to be over. Not by a long shot.
“Where’d hell and fury go?” Rye asked, coming over with a glass of Scotch for me.
“She left.” I took a sip of my drink. “I think she’s planning fiery deaths for both of us.”
Rye grinned. “She needs to get in line.” He looked around. “She’s got great ideas,” he complimented her. “Missed a lot too,” he added.
“I knew you couldn’t possibly be complimenting her,” I drawled.
“She did well,” he conceded. “But fuck, who doesn’t insist to see everything ?”
It had been her biggest oversight, but I also knew she was so intrigued about Elixir’s reputation that she had allowed it to distract her. Had allowed me to distract her.
“You good here?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Rye nodded. “Already had a few bookings.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “One or two may have mentioned moving from the firm Isla works for to directly booking with us. You have an issue with that?”
“Fuck no,” I told him. “This is why we’re here.” After downing my drink, I handed him my glass. “I’ll be downstairs. They agreed to be out of here by eleven. Doors reopen at eleven thirty no matter what,” I reminded him. “Let’s start clearing this up and getting ready for tonight.”
“Yes, boss.” Rye stood to attention like the prick he was.
“Fuck off.” I grinned at him before I left the event on the main floor and headed to my office. I rolled my shoulders as I stepped into my office, stripping off my jacket and tossing it onto the leather chair. The screens on the wall flickered with movement—Elixir’s main floor, the entry points, and the hallways leading to the lower level.
The upper level was still buzzing with the final ripples of the gala, guests lingering, conversations trailing off into goodbyes and handshakes, the slow fade of an event reaching its inevitable end.
The gala might be over, but my night was just beginning.
Casting my eye over the lower-level screens, I nodded in satisfaction. All running exactly as it should. I’d grabbed a bottle of water on my way up, and twisting off the cap, I downed half of it in one go. I let the cool liquid wash away the lingering heat of the Scotch.
I lifted the phone off my desk, ready to put it into my pocket, and hesitated over the message screen. Isla was still on my mind. I didn’t expect any message from her. The woman had more class than to text in anger.
But…she also had a temper, and I smiled briefly at the thought of her fury, her sharp, clipped words, and her control, which she hung on to like a lifeline. I wondered what it would be like for her to let go, like the way her breath caught when I got too close.
There was no message from Isla. I spent my living reading people, and I knew Isla wasn’t done with me. Good. I wanted her to fight. I wanted her to push back.
It would be all the more satisfying when she realized the outcome had already been decided. Slipping my phone into my pocket, I checked the screens again, my gaze on the lower level.
The gala had been for show—the best opportunity to show off Elixir’s polished, curated image.
But downstairs? That was where my money was made. I exited the office, making my way through the corridor, loosening another button at my neck and checking my cuff links.
I felt the shift come over me, and as soon as I stepped inside the lower level, I felt the change in the energy.
A deal was already in progress in one of the booths. Two men were leaning in, their movements careful and measured. Cash was on the table, whiskey glasses were half drained, and subtle nods of agreement were being exchanged. Jayden stood nearby, his eyes watchful, his stance relaxed. He gave me a barely perceptible nod. The deal was going well, and the house had its cut.
Good.
I moved towards the back, my presence acknowledged in glances, movements, and the unspoken shift in the room. People didn’t stop what they were doing when I walked in. They didn’t freeze or scramble. But they noticed, and that was the point.
I took my usual seat in the corner, letting the night settle around me. The gala was over, and the public-facing side of my world was neatly wrapped up in a silk bow.
Now, it was time to get back to business.
When I saw Mercutio walk in, I exhaled through my nose, already irritated just at the sight of him. I saw Jayden straighten slightly, and with a quick glance at my watch, I wondered how long before Rye would be down.
Not for me. I didn’t need backup for a man like Mercutio. I needed someone to hold me back i f the prick pushed me.
Mercutio was a problem—the kind of man who didn’t know when to stop pushing and when to back off. He also wasn’t very bright. It had only been a few nights since he sent some green novice in here looking for Angelo, and the fact Angelo would kill him without hesitation seemed to miss Mercutio’s radar.
I wasn’t sure if Angelo was in Gracemont or Chicago. I wondered if Mercutio had checked his sources first.
While the dick annoyed me and made me want to physically kick the shit out of him, I was still a fair, open-minded businessman. My world was tricky to navigate; the tides could turn at any moment. I hosted the players, and I rarely took sides.
Which was why shits like Mercutio knew he could come to my club, take a seat at a table, and lean back as if he belonged here. I cast my eye over his slicked-back hair; it was heavy with so much product the dim light bounced off it. His suit was cheap, like the confidence that rolled off him in waves. I watched as he ordered a Scotch on the rocks.
I didn’t have long to wait to see what the play was here. Angelo walked in about forty minutes later, and I exchanged a look with Jayden, who slipped up the back stairs. He would take Rye’s place.
Angelo took the seat across from Mercutio, and I settled into the chair beside Angelo, slow and deliberate, making sure both of them knew I wasn’t waiting to be invited to this conversation.
Mercutio gave me a toothy smile. “Zayn,” he greeted, looking me over. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” His pointer finger on his right hand jabbed towards the ceiling. “Thought you were licking rich folks’ arses.”
I ignored his vulgarity. “You’re in my club,” I said smoothly, leaning back in my chair. “You should always expect to see me.”
Mercutio chuckled, but there was a flicker of unease in his gaze.
What was going on here?
A glass of straight vodka was placed in front of Angelo and a glass of Scotch in front of me.
I took a slow sip, letting the silence stretch before setting the glass down. “So, tell me,” I asked them both. “What brings you both in here tonight?”
“Neutral ground,” Mercutio bit out. “Angelo wanted a meet?—”
“Friendly discussion,” Angelo corrected. It was the first time he had spoken. He was expressionless as he lifted his glass. “Just a friendly discussion.”
Fuck me. One of them was going to die in my club tonight.
I arched a brow. “That so?”
Angelo was a cool, calm, deadly stone beside me. “He wants in on the shipments.”
I fought the sigh. Mercutio was such a fucking idiot. He might as well have signed his own death warrant.
“Seems…bold,” I murmured, seeing Rye come through the door. He took one look at the room and left again. He would go to the entrances and let the guys on duty know that no one else was to be permitted into the lower-level club until instructed. Knowing that was in hand, I turned back to Mercutio. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
Angelo took another drink, and I knew I was now the official mediator for this meeting.
“Angelo’s boss runs a very controlled operation,” I reminded Mercutio, my voice dropping lower.
Mercutio cocked his head. “He needs to learn to share.”
God, he was an idiot. I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table. “Let me explain this to you.” My voice was calm. “You don’t sit at this table and ask for a seat at another. That is not how his business works. Or yours.” I looked between the two of them. “Or mine .”
Mercutio sucked his teeth. “I’m just saying, McCabe,” he said, his voice holding a hard edge, “there’s room for more than?—”
“There isn’t.” I cut him off with two simple words, my voice dipping into something colder, sharper.
Mercutio’s gaze flicked to Angelo, who hadn’t looked away from him.
Leaning back, I surveyed my club. Too many witnesses. “You walked in here to be seen.” It was a wild stab in the dark. “You want to be seen sitting across from Angelo.” I saw a tick of his jaw and knew I was right. “You didn’t come here to deal; you came here to be seen. You’ve done that. Now walk away.” I jerked my head to the door. “While you still can.”
Mercutio hesitated for a second too long.
Angelo smiled. “Or don’t.”
The unspoken consequence in those two words hung heavy over the table.
Mercutio exhaled lowly, lifting his hands slightly in mock surrender. “No harm, no foul.”
I downed my Scotch. “Get the fuck out of my club.”
Mercutio didn’t argue. He downed his own drink and stood, muttering something about seeing me around. He wouldn’t. Because the more he pushed Angelo or his boss, he wouldn’t have the chance to see anyone.
Angelo let out a huff of amusement when Mercutio disappeared through the exit, and the whole room seemed to let out a soft sigh of relief. Angelo turned to look at me. “You ever get tired of repeating yourself?”
“Some people never learn.”
He finished his drink. “They really don’t.”
It was not my role to push, but there had been an awful lot of witnesses to this exchange tonight. “Neutral ground?”
Angelo gave me a look with a hint of amusement in it. “Everyone needs an alibi at some point, Zayn.” He stood and clapped me on the shoulder. “Never forget it.” He walked to the back of the room and went behind the heavy divider to the back bar.
I knew who was back there, and like a true host, I let them get on with their own business without any interference from me.
Rye came over and took a seat beside me. “And the oak flooring survives another night without bloodshed.”
I snorted, my reply bitten back when I saw Julian walk in.
“More drama,” Rye mock whispered.
“Shut up, dick,” I grumbled.
Julian was in chinos, a blue button-down, and a sweater over his shoulders. He stood out like a sore thumb. He looked like he’d just come from a family dinner.
He saw me immediately, his expression tight and unreadable.
“Are they loafers?” Rye asked me.
“I will beat the shit out of you,” I warned him as Julian made his way over.
“We need to talk,” Julian snapped as he came to a standstill in front of us.
“You know where my office is,” I told him as I stood. “You should’ve gone there.” I looked down at Rye, flicking my eyes to the back room.
“This isn’t a courtesy meeting,” Julian snapped.
“Yeah.” I gave him a tight smile. “I get it.” I turned back to Rye. “Call me immediately.”
His look was one of brimming amusement as he looked between us both. “And interrupt the lovers’ spat?” He grinned. “I would never.”
“Fuck off,” I muttered as I led Julian away from the lower club. We walked to my office in silence, and when I closed the door, the air between us shifted.
Julian turned towards me, eyes furious. “What the hell was that tonight?”
I walked past him, taking a seat. “A successful event?”
His jaw clenched. “A successful event that Isla worked hard for. That you took from her!”
I sighed. “Again with the taking,” I grumbled. “I took nothing from her. I reminded her who owns this place.”
Julian’s temper ratcheted up a notch. “She worked her ass off for that event.”
“She did,” I agreed. “It showed.”
Julian stepped closer, laying his hands flat on my desk, leaning on it like he had the right. “You do not get to brush this off. You fucked her over, and you know it.”
Something cold settled in my chest. I tilted my head as I watched him. “Funny,” I murmured. “I don’t think she’d mind if I did.” I knew I’d pushed him when his nostrils flared. “She’s tougher than you think; she will not break because of this. Stop treating her like she’s a fragile doll.”
His gaze flickered, something unreadable passing through it. “She’s not part of your world,” he said, his teeth tightly clenched. “Don’t pull her in.”
“I think we both know it’s unlikely she will ask for an event to be held here again.”
Julian’s jaw tightened. “How can you joke about it?”
“Because it’s business.” I let out a long sigh. “You, of all people, know that.”
He didn’t deny it. The confirmation settled between us, and I let the silence stretch, studying him like I was seeing something I should have noticed a long time ago.
“You came here as her friend,” I started slowly. “But, Julian, this is how I work. You know that. Fuck, Isla knows that.” I gave him a long look. “You’ve been in my world a lot longer; you know this is how it works.”
Julian didn’t blink. Didn’t move.
“I thought you’d be different because it was, you know, Isla.” He shook his head. “I don’t want her here.”
“Then why are you complaining?”
He gave me a look of exasperation. “She’s my best friend.”
“She is, but let’s face it, in here, she may learn some of your secrets, too,” I murmured. He looked back at me, and I saw the torment in his eyes. “She won’t be back,” I assured him.
“Promise me,” he whispered, not meeting my eyes.
“Of course.”
It felt very much like a lie.