25. Isla
CHAPTER 25
ISLA
In the full-length mirror, I looked critically at my outfit. It was a black sleeveless dress with a slightly flared skirt. The dress gave me curves I didn’t necessarily have, but it made me look like I did. Instead of my usual business look, which was a ponytail, I had my hair down, falling in soft waves, and I was really happy with how well my hair was behaving.
My makeup was minimal except for the deep-pink lipstick, which matched the deep-pink belt of my dress. My shoes were comfortable with an easy heel that wouldn’t kill my feet.
After picking up my tote bag, which contained all the stuff I needed for the day, I assessed myself once more. Yeah, I looked good, and I was so ready for today’s event.
In the car, I double-checked my list again to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, and then I headed to The Grand.
I had done most of the prep yesterday, and I’d already been over this morning to do the finishing touches, and now…now, I was one hour away from the reopening of The Grand Gracemont.
I couldn’t believe it was happening today. I couldn’t believe I had gotten here. I had seen it through, and after I came back from that brief spell away, Gerard had listened to me, and it had made all the difference. The final renovation of the hotel had been so easy to do, and everything had just clicked into place effortlessly.
Well, not effortlessly. I had worked hard as had Pete and his team, and it really was worth it. It was just so beautiful.
After parking at the hotel, I gathered my work stuff and made my way inside. Guests would be arriving in under an hour, and I had some final checks to make before everything was declared ready . My boss was also coming today, which he didn’t usually do, but this had been a major project, and I guessed he wanted to see where his event planner had been for the last few months.
Vases of flowers adorned the reception area, and I held my breath as I made my way to the conservatory. I didn’t need the floral bombs to attack me today. I was using the conservatory as my base point. I wanted nothing out of place in the ballroom before the event started.
It had to be perfect.
It was perfect.
God, please let today be perfect.
I had a flashback of Zayn on the stage in Elixir, taking the gala away from me, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. I hated that he had done that. I hated that he had made me feel that way. And I hated that I knew it was just business to him. I might have spent the weeks after in his bed, but it still didn’t mean the hurt of that brutal act had lessened.
I probably needed a therapist.
I blinked hard, shaking the memory away as I stood in the conservatory. With purposeful strides, I made my way to the ballroom. Today, I was at the reopening of this hotel, which no one could take away from me. Every step I took was measured. I was determined to show the world I was in control, knowing I didn’t need to prove myself to anyone and striving to do it anyway.
Yup, I definitely needed counseling of some sort.
The ballroom was quiet and empty. The tables were set out, the glasses catching the afternoon sun. The tablecloths were crisp and even, and the chairs were perfectly angled. The navy and silver tile looked almost light blue in this light, and I loved the effect. The chandelier had been carefully lowered and painstakingly cleaned.
“It’s beautiful,” I said to myself as I took it all in.
“Isla.”
Turning, I watched Gerard enter the ballroom. He was in a dark-navy linen suit with a bright yellow shirt underneath and a floral cravat. I think I forgave him every gray hair he’d given me over the last months for the very fact he hadn’t dressed up for this. No, that wasn’t right; he hadn’t gone overboard. He had remained completely true to himself.
“You’re looking very dapper,” I complimented him as he approached. So many people would be telling him to change, that he would look out of place, but he looked uniquely him . “For a man who clung to the vintage art deco–look so long,” I teased, “I’ve never once seen you in a pinstripe suit.” I smoothed the lapel of his jacket, and from a box I’d carried in with me, I pinned a floral—no pollen—buttonhole to his jacket. “Perfect.”
Gerard smiled down at me. “And you look beautiful, my darling girl.” He looked around the room, his eyes becoming suspiciously misty. “It’s turned out…perfectly. Everything has, and I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He met my gaze. “I don’t know why you won’t come and work here,” he said with a sniff. “There’s so much more to do, and I no longer trust anyone else to do it with me.” He saw my look. “I won’t interfere. I won’t. I will just be the bankroll.”
“Does your bank still roll?” I asked him as I tidied the buttonhole box away. “We went so over budget on this.”
“Worth every penny,” he whispered as the doors opened and the event staff started to file in.
I didn’t hate his changes. I hated the way he went about making them. But I couldn’t deny that his extras were elements that just added to the overall work that had been done.
“I want you to enjoy this afternoon,” I reminded him. “Soak it all in. We have three rooms operating simultaneously. We need to be in all of them to make sure your guests feel welcome and also so we can get those bookings,” I added with a wink.
“I am yours to command.” He gave me a flourishing bow, and I laughed.
“If only you had been this subservient a few weeks ago,” I said with a teasing smile. “I need to check with the kitchens and fix that server’s waistcoat. Are you good?”
“Perfectly content,” he assured me, and I hurried off to complete my checklist, switching to work mode.
The first guests started arriving, and soon, every event room and the lobby were busy. The hum of conversation and the clink of champagne glasses were the music I listened to as I filtered through each room, working the event and ensuring everything ran smoothly. I’d spoken to Gerard a few times, and he had told me the inquiries to book were flowing in and each time he told them to come speak to me.
I moved towards The Grand’s entrance, determined to greet any late-coming guests. I’d already passed the hotel manager, who had complimented me on the work done. All the staff I saw had a new lease on life and a sense of pride as they did their jobs. I saw a few empty champagne flutes in the foyer and caught the attention of one of the servers. “Can you clear them away, please? Let’s make sure everything is running smoothly and cleanly, okay?”
After my circuit back through the three rooms, I stepped back into the ballroom. The room epitomized the hotel’s new identity. The atmosphere was as buoyant as before, and I allowed myself to feel the thrill of success—of reclaiming control over this project. Yet, every time I caught a glimpse of a shadow on the edge of my vision, I braced myself for Zayn being here.
Which was ridiculous. He wasn’t even invited. He was a reminder though, and I’d ensured every detail of today was coordinated meticulously. Never again would I not control the whole of the event space.
Julian had texted to tell me he had been held up at work and wouldn’t make it. I hated that he was going to miss it, but he would see it later. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had some input.
As I moved away from greeting another group of guests, I found myself momentarily alone in the corner of the room. For a moment, I allowed my back to press against the wall, taking a few deep breaths to steady my racing heart. I knew what Zayn had done at Elixir still troubled me, but until today, I hadn’t realized how much resentment was still lingering. I really needed to address that, especially if I continued to have sex with him. I pushed it aside; I needed to focus on the here and now, and he nor my emotions were what I needed to be thinking about right now.
And then, through the murmur of the crowd, I heard it—a familiar low chuckle, a hint of mischief I knew so well. Someone moved in front of me, and I saw the glint of dark hair at the far end of the room. He turned his head slightly, and his eyes met mine across the room. I thought my heart stuttered as his gaze traveled over me.
He wore black pants tailored perfectly and a dark-gray shirt that looked like it knew it would be burned if it were ever to crease. His cuffs were loose and his sleeves rolled up. He looked…casual. As if he was just “passing by,” and I knew he was being a conniving shithead.
Looking away from him, I saw Rye, who was being more open about his perusal of the room, was with him. I straightened my shoulders and forced a smile as I made my way across to them, stopping to greet guests or answer questions, all the while my attention remained on the one man who could mess it all up. Angry that he was here, I refused to let the painful memory of last time define me.
“Zayn,” I greeted coolly. “Rye.” I looked them over, not hiding my disapproval. Rye was in dark pants and a black shirt, his jacket looped through a finger and over his shoulder. “I didn’t see you on the guest list.”
Translation: why are you here, and who let you in?
“Isla, my darling,” Gerard said as he appeared beside me. “Gentlemen, I know you know my darling Isla.”
I saw Zayn’s eyes narrow when Gerard called me his darling. In any other circumstances, it would have made me laugh.
“I’ve known Isla for a very long time,” Zayn drawled as he fixed his attention on where Gerard’s hand rested on my shoulder. His eyes flicked to mine, and I fought the look of command he gave me.
“I like the attention to detail,” Rye cut in, not bothering with pleasantries. “Pity you didn’t show that at the Shaw Foundation’s gala.”
My glare was white-hot, and Zayn took the opportunity to step forwards as Gerard shifted uncomfortably, forcing the older man to move farther from me.
“Why are you both here?” I snapped, probably harsher than I should have, considering we were surrounded.
“I…I invited them,” Gerard stuttered beside me. He cowered under my incredulous stare. “I am very proud of the work you have done here,” he said as he lifted his chin defiantly. “Hard work should be rewarded, not penalized.”
“I think she’s rewarded hard every night,” Rye mumbled under his breath, causing Zayn to dig an elbow into his ribs as I coughed with surprise at his blatant reference.
Zayn looked around, his eyes coming back to mine very quickly. “So much work has been done,” he said with a nod to Gerard. “Works like this never come as cheap as you think, am I right?”
Gerard relaxed a little. “Indeed, and the delays.” He wiped his brow. “Thank goodness I had darling Isla here to take care of everything.” He scowled at Rye. “Her attention to detail is impeccable.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard.” Rye gave me a wide smile, and I knew I was flushing with embarrassment, refusing to meet Zayn’s gaze.
“But you just said she hadn’t given any consideration of detail at that horrible prank you pulled at your club,” Gerard protested, and I simultaneously wanted to hug him for sticking up for me and also die of nervousness at whatever Rye was about to say next.
“It wasn’t a prank.” Zayn cut off his friend, his voice firm and cool. “It was business; you understand that better than anyone, Gerard.”
I glanced at him and got caught in his stare, seeing the unexpected hint of regret as he spoke. “Isla understands too it was only business.”
A lump formed in the back of my throat, and I had to look away. Because I did understand, but I also didn’t. Not at all. And I didn’t understand how that event and what they had done resulted in me kissing him. Touching him. Sleeping with him.
“The past is the past,” I said instead, reaching out to pat Gerard’s arm. “I have work to do, so I’ll leave you to enjoy your time here.” I squeezed Gerard’s arm, hoping he understood that meant do not leave these two alone with your guests .
He completely misinterpreted it.
“You see,” he said fondly. “This is why I need her to come and work for me.” He sighed. “With Isla running the events at the hotel, I would sleep peacefully every night.”
“You offered Isla a job?” Zayn asked softly, and I could feel the weight of his stare, but I kept my gaze averted.
In panic, I glanced at my watch. “I can’t stand here chatting,” I said with a forced laugh. “Enjoy. Gerard, stick with them; they have a tendency to steal from you if they remain unsupervised.”
I hurried away, not caring that I had completely outed my concerns about their presence here or that I’d purposefully avoided eye contact with the man I shared my bed with.
In the conference room, I ensured everything was in order. In the conservatory, I supervised everything the staff was doing. In the foyer, I ensured nothing was out of place as my phone pinged continuously with inquiries about booking events here.
I did it all, and in no time, I had no more reasons not to return to the ballroom. I hoped they were gone. I knew I wasn’t that lucky.
I opted for a five-minute comfort break in a bathroom stall. I didn’t even care that I was hiding. After my pep talk and a quick breathing meditation exercise, I left the bathroom, intent on returning to the ballroom and facing my fears.
Instead, a cool hand wrapped around my upper arm, and I was led to a smaller conference room that wasn’t in use tonight.
“Should I worry that you know this hotel so well?” I asked Zayn dryly.
“You should worry that Gerard Fitzsimmons’ hands may be permanently removed from his body if he keeps touching you, darling .” Zayn stared down at me, his expression unreadable.
“He’s old enough to be my father.”
“Don’t care.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” Was he jealous? “Are you jealous?” I watched his eyes narrow, and I laughed. “Of Gerard ?”
“No one touches what’s mine.” Zayn stepped closer, pressing me against something at my back, a disused table perhaps. His hand skimmed down my arm.
I moved away slightly, breaking contact. “I’m not a possession.”
Without warning, Zayn reached out, his hand sliding into my hair, resting at the delicate nape of my neck. The unexpected pull drew my head close to his. He lowered his head, our faces nearly touching, and an electric jolt of desire surged through me. My breath caught as his fingers tangled gently in the soft strands of my hair, sending ripples of heat along my skin.
“Be very careful, little Isla,” he murmured, his lips inches from mine. “You don’t want to challenge me here, do you?” Lips brushed over mine. “I have no problem lifting that skirt, fucking you where you stand, and reminding you who owns that tight pussy.” His teeth nipped my bottom lip. “Do you doubt me, Is?”
How was I supposed to speak? My body was arching into his, desperate for him to do exactly as he promised, but my head was yelling at me to definitely seek professional help. He did not own me, but my god, why did the very fact he was being so possessive turn my insides into jelly and make my core tighten with need?
Zayn’s mouth claimed mine, his lips moving over mine with a controlled urgency. The taste of him mingled with the sweetness of champagne was intoxicating. He kissed me with an insatiable hunger, and I responded as the rest of the world faded away. In his embrace, every sensation was bigger as we surrendered to the heat of our attraction, each kiss more consuming than the last.
I felt cool air under my dress before his hand squeezed my thigh, encouraging me to spread my legs. His lips left mine, and after putting his mouth on my neck, he left a trail of hungry kisses down my throat.
“Zayn…”
“You’re fucking addictive,” he muttered, his hand cupping me, fingers deftly pushing aside my panties as two fingers stroked through my wetness.
“Anyone could come in,” I whispered frantically as a finger pressed into me, and my head tilted back at the sensation.
“Mmhmm.” He added a second finger, and I held on to his shoulders desperately. “He offered you a job?”
What?
“Gerard?” I yelped when my clit was pinched hard.
“Only my name, Is.”
God, he was a bossy bastard. I shuddered as his thumb rubbed against me and his fingers plunged in and out of me.
“Did he try to take what’s mine?” Zayn asked against my throat.
I shook my head. “No,” I gasped as he pushed deeper. “No!” My eyes were trained on the door, terrified someone would come in and see us in such a compromising position. “He offered. I said he couldn’t afford me.”
Zayn’s low growl was as sexy as it was worrying. “Not a no, Is. You tell him no so he knows it’s a definite no.” He kissed me savagely. I felt the loss of his fingers and whimpered in protest until he lifted me, settled me on the table, and pushed his cock into me.
He fucked me hard. I was barely holding on, but I was meeting him thrust for thrust. Our moans were low and contained despite the fact we were very much out of control. Zayn’s hand covered my mouth, and I bit the flesh of his palm as I convulsed around his cock. I felt his teeth sink into my neck as he released inside me with a low growl.
I couldn’t breathe. What the hell had I just done? This was so unprofessional. Pushing against him, I slid off the table and tried to compose myself.
I heard the zip of his pants, turned to look at him, and saw the satisfied smirk he gave me as he examined me. Zayn pulled me to him and kissed me gently, tenderly. He pushed my hair over my shoulder and looked at my neck before he kissed me again.
“Now they know you’re mine.”
What the hell did that mean?
There was a rap at the door, and Rye pushed his head into the room. “You good here?” He glanced at me, his grin full of amusement. “You need to find a brush, girl, you look like you just got owned.”
“Enough.” Zayn’s warning was low, but it was a warning. When he looked at me this time, he frowned and looked almost sheepish. “You might want to visit the bathroom.”
“You think !” Smoothing my hair as best as I could, I stormed past them both, muttering they were both assholes, and once more locked myself in a bathroom stall. When I was as cleaned up as much as possible, I stared at myself in the mirror, my eyes wide as I looked at the very noticeable, very un coverable hickey on my neck.
“You possessive bastard.” I seethed. I was going to kill him, I vowed as I fixed my hair and makeup and left the bathroom, knowing I had to fake every smile as I internally raged at Zayn and how he had once more fucked me over at an event.
Only this time, I’d been a willing participant, and that pissed me off even more.