30. Isla
I didn’t think I’d be this broken.
I never thought a single lapse in my mantra to stay away from him could shatter me so completely when I failed to do just that. But I had failed, and just like before, holding on to Zayn was like holding sand and watching it slipping through my fingers.
Jayden had taken me to my car, and then he’d followed me home, which was kind of him. Who knew the hot beefcake security guy was so gentle?
Appearances truly were deceiving.
Julian decided to help me get over Zayn by telling me every sordid detail of his past—a long litany of betrayals, violent deals, and secret maneuvers. He told me, in no uncertain terms, everything Zayn had done over the years.
It hadn’t helped. It made it worse. Each time, I could see the reason why he’d done it.
For power? For control? Sure. To protect what was his? Without a doubt.
Each revelation cut deeper, unraveling the fragile image I’d held on to. Instead of dulling the sting, knowing his real motivations only made the ache worse. I saw clearly now that Zayn wasn’t just a charming enigma—he was a man who used every tool at his disposal, every cruel tactic, to keep his empire intact.
And despite everything, I was still inexplicably drawn to him. I still missed him. I still wanted those private moments between us, where his guard was down and he was the boy in the bathroom, ready to help me play a stupid game.
Sitting in my apartment alone, I closed my eyes and fought to steady my breathing. Every secret I learned about him only widened the chasm between who I wanted to be and what he represented.
Loving him—or even just failing to stay away—meant breaking every rule I’d ever known about myself, and that was a bitter pill to swallow.
Even as I sat there in the bright afternoon sunshine, struggling with this unexpected vulnerability, I knew one thing for sure. I would never be the same again. In such a short time, he’d changed me.
Challenged me.
Drove me to be better.
Made me stronger.
More confident.
I picked up my phone and dialed, my heart racing as the call connected. “Hi, Gerard?”
“Isla? How are you?”
I swallowed. “I’m good. I was wondering…is that job offer still open?”
“Yes.” I heard him smile. “Yes, it is. Can you come by in the morning so we can discuss it?”
“Sure, how does ten sound?”
“I’ll see you then, Isla.”
* * *
I stood at the entrance of The Grand Gracemont three weeks later, the early-morning light cutting through the glass and steel, and I knew—this was it. This was my time to take full control and say goodbye to the past, the memories of stolen victories, of lost control. Not anymore. Today, I was taking charge.
I was walking in there to sign the contract that made me the hotel’s in-house event planner, the decision feeling like both a retreat and a rebellion. Working full-time here meant I could build something concrete—a sanctuary of order amid the unpredictable storms of my life. No more stolen glances in dim clubs, and no more unpredictable nights with dangerous promises.
I knew danger would follow Zayn everywhere the day I’d found a knife under my bed. I had no idea how it got there until I remembered the first night with Zayn. Something had fallen, and I remembered hearing it hitting the floor. Weeks later, I’d been vacuuming and the vacuum hit something. A black-handled flick knife was under my bed. The blade was curved and dangerous, and holding it had made me feel sick.
Not only for what it was, but what it represented. Who it represented. Who needed to carry a flick knife on them? Who forgot to pick up their wallet but remembered to grab their knife?
People like him .
Well, no more.
I was reclaiming control over my world.
Inside the conservatory, I met with Gerard and the hotel’s management team. They looked at me with a mix of respect and expectation. “Isla, we’re excited to have you on board,” Gerard said, his voice measured and reassuring. “Your vision and precision are exactly what we need to elevate this place.” He smiled at me with fondness. “We’ve already seen what you can do; we are excited for more.”
I smiled back, feeling the weight of his trust settle over me like a mantle. “Thank you, I’m excited too.” I could hear the quiet hum of the hotel’s daily operations, a steady rhythm that reminded me why I had chosen this path.
“We have an office for you,” the hotel manager, Russ, said. “It’s temporary until you find a space that may suit you better.”
“Oh, come, we’ll all go together,” Gerard said, delighted with this turn of events. A far cry from my boss’s—my old boss’s—reaction.
As we walked the now familiar corridors, I caught my reflection in a polished mirror, glimpsing eyes that had seen too much but were now clear with resolve. I was focused on the tasks ahead, reviewing vendor contracts, updating timelines, and mapping out the grand visions I had for the hotel’s future.
I settled into the way of working easily. Working at The Grand was the most comfortable I had ever been in my career. A number of clients followed me, but they still held their commitment to my old company. I would not be accused of poaching, but I knew they were coming.
Even as I immersed myself in spreadsheets and project plans, a quiet voice in the back of my mind whispered reminders of past nights—of a passion that had once made me feel unquestioningly alive. It was a risk I could no longer afford.
I had chosen a new beginning—a commitment to my career, my reputation, and a life in which I was in full control. I was creating a future on my own terms, one flawless event at a time.
I’d made a promise to myself that, this time, nothing would shake the foundation I was so determined to lay.
My phone buzzed, and I answered it without looking. “Isla Wells.”
“Isla? It’s Lyndsay Shaw of the Shaw Foundation.”
I stopped typing, my eyes watching the phone like a hawk. “Hi? How are you?”
“I’m good. I hear you moved to The Grand Gracemont. Gerard always was a charmer with the ladies.”
I bit my tongue and then thought fuck it . I wasn’t scared of her, and I could no longer get fired by people who were afraid of her. “Gerard’s also a really decent human being,” I said sharply. “Is there something I can help you with, Lyndsay?”
She didn’t miss a beat.
“Elixir has a tarnished reputation?—”
“It was always tarnished,” I said with even more bite. “You look past the superficial and see beneath all the gossip.”
I heard her sniff. “Well, I have stakeholders who only see the superficial.”
Like you.
“I want the winter gala at The Grand. Can you accommodate me?”
I was so tempted to say no. “Things are different now, Lyndsay?—”
“Oh. Do I need to speak to Gerard?” Her tone was going to get her slapped.
“No. I coordinate all bookings and events,” I told her, speaking clearly. “But while I accommodate events here, we do so within parameters and boundaries as I set.”
I heard her light laugh. “You’re in charge. Is that what you’re saying, Isla?”
Was it? “Yes.”
“Excellent! I’ll email you the suggested dates; hopefully, we can find one that works for everyone.”
She hung up, and I stared at the phone suspiciously for a few minutes afterward. Elixir was as thriving as it always had been. It hadn’t faltered at all from one mere SWAT raid. In fact, it had only made it more desirable.
People were weird.
I waited for her email and then carried on with my morning. I had a call with a supplier later and a meeting with a potential new client at one.
I decided I needed a coffee and made my way to the conservatory, wondering when Gerard would regret the “all-you-can-drink tea and coffee” offer he’d made when I started here. That man did not know my tolerance for caffeine.
My phone rang, and this time, I looked. Julian . With a smile, I answered, “You’re an hour early, or you’re not making it? Which one am I expecting you to say?” I teased him as I walked. We usually had our quick post-lunch check-ins—jokes, teasing, and a bit of friendly ribbing to keep the mood light. But today, he was supposed to meet me in person for lunch.
“I need to talk to you.”
I frowned. His tone wasn’t one I recognized. Terse, almost urgent.
“I’m listening,” I offered.
“I’m already here.”
I found Julian in the corridor, leaning against the door to the conference room. His eyes were wary, and a strained seriousness replaced his usual confident smile. “Isla,” he greeted, his tone low. “Is this a good time?”
I forced a smile, conscious my colleagues were watching, “What’s up? You’re acting…funny, not in a good way,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.
He pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “Somewhere private.”
“Okay. My office.” I turned, and we walked back the way I had just come. “I’m so glad I’m not one to overreact when you’re all cloak-and-dagger on me,” I muttered as we walked.
Inside my office, I watched him sink into a chair, and I looked at him. Really looked at him. His hair wasn’t as golden, his skin was sallow, and the dark circles under his eyes were alarming.
“Julian?” I took his hand. “What’s wrong?”
“I fucked up,” he blurted. “I played, and I can’t play, Isla. I know I can’t play, and I just kept on playing.”
What? “Okay, what are you playing, and how did you fuck up?” I squeezed his hand. “Break it down for me.”
His eyes were flat, his posture defeated. He looked over at me and shrugged. “I lost at cards.”
“And that’s bad because?”
“Because I lost at cards.”
I sat back. The lower-level club. “At Elixir?”
He shook his head. “No, Zayn doesn’t allow high stakes gambling.”
“Really? He allows everything else.” It was out before I stopped myself.
“This has nothing to do with Zayn,” Julian snapped. “Would you listen more if it was?”
Wow . “I’m sorry. I’m listening.” He was strung so tight. “Tell me how I can help you?”
Julian tipped his head back and glared at the ceiling. “I owe two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
I stood there, the weight of his words echoing in my mind. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” I repeated aloud, disbelief mingling with anger. Julian’s eyes, usually so full of mischief, were now clouded with regret.
I knew my mouth was open in shock. “How?”
“I lost at cards. Every day, I pay interest, and I now owe more in interest than I do in the original debt.”
I was on my feet. “How?” I couldn’t keep still. “I mean, how is that possible? Is that legal?” I felt like slapping myself. “Of course, it isn’t fucking legal. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking my luck would change and I would win!”
He was an idiot. I stopped pacing and glared at him. “Oh my god, tell me that isn’t what happened. You lose big, Julian, you walk away . Even I know that!”
I could feel the frustration coiling in my chest—how had I missed this? Why was he so…reckless?
Julian shrugged, a weak smile on his lips. “I thought I could turn it around and start winning again.”
I shook my head in disbelief, my voice rising. “ No ! No one ever wins, for God’s sake, Julian, it’s basic gambling one-oh-one.”
For a long, heavy moment, silence stretched between us. I could see the conflict in his eyes, a flicker of shame battling his stubborn pride. Finally, he mumbled, “I don’t know what to do.”
That broke something inside me. “Julian,” I said firmly, stepping closer. “We’ll fix this.” I had no idea how. “I have some money, not a lot; how much do you have?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh…” The enormity of it struck me.
He swallowed hard. “I messed up.” He cleared his throat. “And I got fired.”
I gaped at him. “The job? Your job? But you were working in Chicago…” I stared at him, confused and angry.
“The card game’s in Chicago.”
“You’ve lied to me.” I stood. “You’ve been lying to me for months.” Pushing my hair away from my face, I let out a slow breath. “You need to go to Zayn.”
He looked up at me.
I shrugged in defeat. “I don’t have that money. I don’t know anyone who does. Only Zayn. He can help.”
“I can’t ask him,” Julian mumbled, his eyes fixed on the corner as if avoiding my gaze.
“Why?” I pressed, and my tone got firmer. “Why can’t you ask him?”
Julian’s silence spoke volumes.
“You’ve done this before?”
He gave a slow nod.
“How many times?”
“Enough.”
“Why have you never told me!” I snapped, my frustration boiling over. I felt like I was stuck in a never-ending cycle of desperation lately. I shook my head in disbelief. “Well, that’s just fan-fucking-tastic,” I said bitterly, the words heavy with exasperation.
Julian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know you’re angry, but I can’t keep asking him like he’s a personal cash machine.” He looked at his hands. “I promised him last time it was over.”
“Do you have another option?” I shot back, my eyes flashing. “Zayn’s the only one who can cover this mess. Don’t tell me you’re too proud—or too scared—to reach out.”
He looked up, his eyes a mixture of regret and stubborn pride. “It’s not pride. It’s… I can’t, Isla. I can’t risk losing what little relationship I have left with him. He’s my friend. I need him to be a friend, not because of what he can get me out of.”
I looked at him and felt my eyes widen. “You sneaky bastard.” I leaned over him. “You want me to ask him?” I felt a bitter lump form in my throat. “That’s why you’re telling me? You want me to go to Zayn.”
He looked away for a long moment, and when he finally met my eyes, his voice was low and heavy with resignation. “He’ll do it for you.”
Tears welled in my eyes. “He’d do it for you , you stupid prick.” That wouldn’t help anything. “I’ll go after work.”
Julian looked at me with hope. “Really, Isla?”
“Yes.” I turned my head away. “You need to go. I feel quite emotional right now, and I want to hit you so bad, so you better go.”
“I’m sorry.” He reached out and took my hand.
I nodded. “I know. I do.” I squeezed his hand. “I love you, but go. I need to think.”
After he left, I was so distracted that I decided to finish work early. Gerard and I had no set hours. He was happy for me to do my thing as long as it brought his hotel money. So far, it was working.
In my car, I decided to head home to change before I had to go to Elixir and ask someone I had actively avoided for weeks if he would bail out my best friend.
Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I took a deep breath. He wasn’t a monster. This didn’t need to be difficult. I picked up my phone.
Is there any chance I can come see you before the club opens?
I waited and then waited some more.
“Fuck it.”
Picking up my car keys, I grabbed my purse and headed out of the apartment.
My phone pinged as I got to the car.
I’m not there.
“Shit.”
Turning away from the car, I saw a guy walking towards me on his phone and thought nothing of it as I headed back to the apartment. I sent a text to Julian.
No luck, I don’t think he’s there. We’ll figure this out, I love you.
A shiver ran over me, and I turned to see the guy behind me. “Hi? Are you lost?”
He spoke into his phone. “Got her.”
***
Are you ready for more from Isla and Zayn?
His Fury will release May 30 th .