30. Isla
CHAPTER 30
ISLA
The club appeared different when I walked in with the early-morning cleaning crew. Zayn had explained that they arrived as soon as the doors closed, and since I needed to know everything for tonight, I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled through the doors with them. I wanted everyone in that building to know I was the person they came to today. If that began with the cleanup crew, so be it.
I went home when most people left for work in the morning, caught a few more hours of sleep, got woken up slowly by Zayn, took a shower, got ready, and returned for the afternoon event, bringing my clothes for the evening event with me.
The six-hour event that Rye had booked for the afternoon was a corporate event I had planned before. I wasn’t slighted that they had chosen Elixir this time; it was one of those events they hosted all around the country, and I had organized an event with them two years ago. The main contact was the same, and he didn’t bat an eyelid when he saw me there instead of Rye.
I hoped that all receptions today would go the same. However, between the event wrapping up and the setup for the next one beginning, I somehow knew that would not be the case.
I was to stay away from downstairs, and I was more than happy with that. Jayden was between floors. The new elevation in his status had surprised him as much as it had surprised me, but he was adapting to it well. He wore dark tailored pants, and the black shirt he had on hugged him in all the right places. He looked good, and he fit in perfectly.
“Isla?” I turned to the head bartender, James. I had met him several times before, but today was the first time we were actually introduced by name.
“Hey, you good?” I asked him, looking past him to the bar where the other bartenders were stocking fridges, stacking shelves, and generally getting ready for tonight.
James handed me a sheet of paper. “Just got sent this,” he told me.
I read the list. “What is it?” I asked hesitantly.
“Signature cocktails the birthday girl wants for tonight.”
I looked up at him. “I’ve never heard of any of these,” I told him. “And I’ve drank my fair share of cocktails.”
“That’s because she apparently invented them this morning over her birthday brunch.”
I rubbed my forehead. “Okay, well, make them.” I shrugged. “She invented them this morning?” He nodded. “Then she won’t have any idea what’s in them.” We walked to the bar, and I leaned over, grabbing a notebook and a pen. “Right, Pink Sky Delight…it’s gotta be pink, right? So…vodka, raspberry liquor, sprite…and…”
“Amaretto.”
I looked at James and nodded. “Amaretto. Who doesn’t want a little cherry in their cocktail? Okay, next.”
We hastily made up a list of cocktails, catering more to the implied color tone of her suggested list. On closer inspection, the girl’s imagination was limited.
“Offer these to the clients,” I told him, stepping back. “Also, make sure to keep promoting Elixir’s signature cocktails.” I looked up in momentary panic. “The three complimentary drinks include cocktails, right?”
“Yeah, once the three are taken, they pay.” He didn’t look impressed by that idea. “Takings might be down with this”—he waved at the pad—“I won’t have time to perfect each one before the doors open.”
“Add five bucks onto each of them. Elixir’s are better and a fairer price. Outprice these ones, and we won’t have to make as many, yeah?”
James smiled. “Yeah. Thirty bucks for these. I wouldn’t pay it.”
No one with any sense would. I smiled in agreement and went to turn away. “Hey, if you remember, I might try one of those”—I squinted at the pad—“Bedroom Eyes, later.”
We had no idea what that meant, and for me, “bedroom eyes” referred to any time Zayn looked at me. His eyes were gray, so while James had suggested brown, like an espresso martini, I had convinced him to make a cocktail that involved sambuca and white rum. One of the bartenders joked that it would definitely put you in bed, and we agreed to serve only one or two of them per person.
Just in case.
I left the bar staff to craft their new cocktails and headed back to the main display for the birthday diva. I just knew she would be impossible.
Hours later and the music was loud and thumping. The lights were low and moody, reflecting off crystal and chrome. Staff moved with ease and grace—checking guests, smoothing tablecloths, and taking orders. Everything was sharp, clean, and precise.
Just like I needed to be.
The party was black-tie—filled with VIPs, influencers, and the kind of people who thought a velvet rope made them untouchable. The birthday girl was to be called Princess La La for the night. I refused and had opted early on for Miss , hoping she didn’t notice. I was merely the staff catering to her every whim.
It was a circus of egos dressed in sequins and suits, and I navigated it like a seasoned ringmaster.
I wore black. Sleek. No-nonsense. A blazer over a fitted top and trousers tailored to perfection. Professional enough to fit in. Powerful enough to hold my own. I’d put on high heels that allowed me to look anyone in the eye without blinking if they gave me attitude. Or in Princess La La’s case, look down on them.
I moved through the club like I belonged there. Because tonight? I did.
Rye had met me at the front of the bar earlier between events. He’d been dressed in dark gray, his eyes checking over everything. He’d given me a quick once-over, his expression unreadable.
“You got here early this morning.”
“I like to know my venue,” I said. “Makes me feel useful and in control.”
“Control’s a myth,” he muttered. “Thought we taught you at the gala?”
“Don’t ruin my coping strategy…or my mood.”
His mouth twitched as if he might smirk, but it didn’t happen. “Everything’s ready. You have full access to the upstairs floor. The main staff have been briefed. You call the shots tonight until Zayn or I say otherwise. Jayden’s moving between both levels. He knows what he’s doing, so he’ll be fine.” He paused. “ If he comes to you with something he can’t handle, do what Zayn said. Walk .” Rye held my gaze. “I mean it, Isla. If Jayden can’t cope, you leave.”
“Copy that.” I mock saluted, and this time, he did smirk.
“And, Isla?”
I looked up.
Rye leaned in slightly. “Keep it good, keep them entertained, but keep it boring . We don’t want anything to bring attention to Elixir tonight.”
That earned him a real smile. “That’s the plan.”
He’d left not long after. I hadn’t seen Zayn since this morning. I had forced myself to shove down my worry for him and concentrate on the club.
When the guests started arriving, along with the other extras she’d insisted on, I didn’t have time to worry about anything other than the event. My earpiece was secure, and I was linked to everything.
I coordinated timing with the DJ, handled a complaint about the light rig, smoothed over a spilled cocktail on a thousand-dollar dress, and smiled like I hadn’t spent yesterday afternoon wondering if I was about to walk into a crime scene.
Because Zayn’s world didn’t pause for convenience; it didn’t slow down because I decided I was ready. But still—it was easier than I thought it’d be.
Until I saw the man in the dark-red jacket near the stairs to the VIP booths.
He didn’t belong.
Not in the curated crowd of influencers and minor celebrities. Not with his sharp eyes and the way he didn’t smile when someone laughed beside him. He wasn’t drinking. He wasn’t talking. He was watching .
And I knew—even before he turned away—that he’d noticed me, too.
Something cold slid down my spine.
I caught Jayden’s eye across the room and gave him a tiny nod. He looked once at the man in red, then at me. His jaw tightened. One subtle gesture—a tap to his headset—and he was on the move.
I didn’t follow. Because I wasn’t sure what would be worse: being afraid…or being right that the man was trouble. I watched four security, including Jayden surround him and walk him out.
As the night went on, the music shifted—the bass became heavier and the lights dipped low and flickered gold. The party had reached its peak.
Every table was full. The bar was a controlled storm of drink orders, credit cards, and false smiles. A couple laughed too loudly at a booth near the back. The scent of money and overpriced perfume clung to everything.
I stood near the entrance to the VIP booth that the birthday girl was in, my tablet tucked under my arm and my earpiece feeding me staff updates every thirty seconds. I’d caught her twice trying to sneak into the other booths to see who was there. The sports guys didn’t want to be disturbed, especially by some drunk twenty-one-year-old, and I was basically babysitting the booths.
No Rye.
No Zayn.
Just me.
It was exhilarating. I knew why I was doing this, but I also knew, in his own way, this was a show of trust. From Zayn or from Rye. Either way, I refused to fail.
“Section two’s short-staffed,” James said through the earpiece at the same time one of the bouncers from the main floor spoke.
“We’ve got a situation down here.”
“Define situation,” I asked, already moving towards the stairs.
“Suit trying to sneak past the rope. Says he knows Zayn.”
Of course, he does.
I descended quickly. A man in a slick navy suit with perfect hair and a smug look was leaning into one of the bouncers, his voice low but heated.
I stepped between them. “Everything okay here?”
The bouncer’s shoulders dropped slightly. “He says he’s on the list. I don’t see him on the list.”
“I am on the list,” he cut in, smiling like I was the punchline to his joke. “McCabe said I could stop by. He’ll want to know I’m here.”
“I’m sure he will.” I didn’t smile. “But this floor is by invitation only. And unless your name’s printed and placed in my hand, you’re not going up.”
He leaned closer. “You his assistant? Or his new plaything?”
My fingers itched, but I didn’t move. “Neither. I’m the one who decides if you stay or go.”
That got his attention. He blinked. Straightened. He looked at me again, like he was seeing me clearly for the first time.
“I’ll pass along your name, though, to Zayn, tell him you were left off the list,” I said. “What is it? Your name?”
He didn’t answer. He left. Smart man.
I exhaled slowly, waited to ensure he was leaving, then turned back to the bouncer. “Tell front security if he returns, he doesn’t get past the coat check.”
“Yes, ma’am. ”
I moved on, deciding to walk the perimeter like a general checking her lines. And I couldn’t help it—I expected to see one of them everywhere I looked. Rye with his sharp eyes. Zayn in the shadows, watching everything.
But they were ghosts tonight. And I was alone.
This was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it? To be trusted. To prove I wasn’t some delicate thing to be tucked away in his hidden house. That I could hold my own in his world.
And I was.
But even in heels and designer black, tablet in hand, and power in my voice—I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight wasn’t about proving anything.
It was about lasting through it.
I circled the floor again, less of a walk-through now and more of a ritual. It was a way to keep moving, stay alert, and avoid overthinking the absence of Zayn or Rye. I checked on the staff and the caterers, who were finally packing up; the food had been sent out, the cake—the ugliest one I’d ever seen—was cut, and the caterers were eager to leave. I checked in with Jayden, who maintained firm control downstairs and with security.
We worked well together.
I passed the DJ booth—thumbs-up. The bar was still slammed but under control—James was the overlord of his domain, and he was damn good at it. I paused long enough to tell him I had fixed the staff shortage in section two. He flashed me a grateful grin and wiped the sweat from his brow.
I realized that this was just another night, just another event for all of them. I had never really experienced one like this before, but the pieces were all the same. While each event had its own challenges, it was a relief to know that I could handle this. It helped that the staff was experienced .
So why did the air feel…thicker? Not dangerous. Not yet. But like a storm was waiting in the wings.
A man in a gray button-down moved past me too quickly, brushing my arm. I turned—just in time to see him disappear into the crowd, melting into a group of men in tailored suits I didn’t recognize.
Their eyes were scanning, not admiring. Clocking exits. Taking stock.
And I knew what that looked like. I’d spent enough time with Zayn to recognize what didn’t belong.
“Jayden,” I said softly into my comm. “I’ve got eyes on four men in suits, drinks barely touched, walking the floor to the south booths. See them?”
“I’m downstairs,” he replied, all trace of casual gone. “I’m sending Mikhail up. I’ll tell the guys to follow them.”
I continued walking until I got to the corridor behind the bar, checking supply and staff notes. I didn’t get far before a quiet voice stopped me.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
I turned fast.
It was Mikhail—one of Zayn’s guys, part of the secondary security team, the one Jayden had sent up. I hadn’t even heard him approach. He stepped out of the shadowed hallway as his eyes scanned the club behind me.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Should be.” He met my gaze. “But keep your head on.”
I swallowed hard. “Zayn said we were to expect no unexpected visitors.”
Mikhail didn’t blink. “Zayn doesn’t always tell anyone everything.” He gave me a tight smile. “Best stay on the main floor, ma’am.”
And then he walked past me like the conversation had never happened. I stood there for a moment before I moved to follow him.
Something was shifting. Quietly. Purposefully.
And for the first time tonight, I wondered if I’d made a mistake asking Zayn to trust me with tonight. I stepped behind the bar and tapped James’s shoulder, motioning for him to lean in, off comms.
“There’s four guys, gray suits, moving like a pack,” I murmured. “See them? South booths?”
“Yeah.”
“You serve them?”
He nodded subtly. “Only ordered once. One of them asked who was running the floor tonight. I didn’t answer.”
I forced a smile for a passing customer and turned slightly. “Let me know if they ask again.”
James handed off a drink to another server, then looked back at me. “You want me to call Jayden? Or Rye?”
“No.” I hated how quickly the word left my mouth. “Neither. Not yet. I don’t want to make this into something it’s not.”
“But if it is something?—”
“Then I’ll handle it. Until I can’t.”
He didn’t argue. Just gave me a tight nod and got back to work.
I moved back to the VIP booths. After checking in on the birthday girl, I turned to my tablet and opened the link Zayn had walked me through a dozen times yesterday. He showed me where the cameras were, where they weren’t, which doors locked automatically, and which doors didn’t. He’d been making sure I knew the escape route while I pretended he was only showing me club security.
I flipped through the channels until I pulled up the CCTV for the corner booths on the main floor. I scanned through the angles until I found the one where the gray suits were.
They looked too polished. Too still.
And when one of them shifted just enough to show the line of something dark beneath his jacket—something that looked suspiciously like a shoulder holster—I felt my pulse leap in my throat. When he moved his jacket, I froze.
“Shit.” I changed the earpiece to only Jayden. “I need you up here, now .”
I grabbed my phone and punched out a text to Rye.
We might have a problem. Not urgent yet. A check-in would be good.
Three dots appeared almost instantly. Then stopped. Then nothing.
I stared at the screen for a long moment. No reply. No call.
He didn’t tell Zayn because there was no soothing voice in my ear telling me it was all under control. I looked back down at the screen, and I no longer felt like I was running the floor.
I felt like I was holding the front line.