Page 43 of Her Ruin

Isla slapped my hand away, turned on her heel, and marched back to where her shit was laid out all over one of the booths.

“She’s going to kill you in your sleep,” Rye commented dryly. But he didn’t hide his grin as he watched her march her sexy ass back to her workstation.

“I wouldn’t mind waking up to that ass in my bed,” I said honestly.

“Not me, she’s a fucking viper.” He sniffed as he watched her purposefully sit with her back to us. “How much longer?”

“Three days.”

“I need time off,” he said with a groan. “You can’t make me stay here for three days with her. She’s making me crazy.”

“She does leave,” I reminded him. I turned to him in seriousness. “You’re scared of her?” I asked him incredulously. “Fuck me, you are!”

Rye looked around, hoping no one had heard me. “Will you quit it? You don’t know what she’s like. She looks totally fuckable, and then she opens her mouth, and this fucking she-demon comes out.” He gave me a look of desperation. “Zayn, man, come on. Help me out.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Now why would I do that?”

“I can’t do my job, myrealjob, if I’m constantly watching her over my shoulder,” he said, the frustration in his voice bleeding through. “And neither can you.”

I let a beat of silence stretch between us. He was right. When I gave her the club for the event, I had no idea I was giving her the club for so much time before the event. This hadn’t been my plan.

“I’ll fix it.”

“How?” Rye asked.

“Watch and learn.” I walked over to the booth she was stationed in. Her head was bent over her notebook, her pen ticking off items on a seemingly never-ending list.

“Isla,” I said into her ear, laughing when she jumped and gave a little shriek.

Twisting in her seat, she glared at me. “You are the most?—”

“Generous guy you know?” I supplied. “Yeah, I know.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, lips pressed into a tight line. “That isnotwhat I was going to say.”

I smirked, sliding into the booth beside her instead of across from her, just to see her bristle. “No? Go on then, what were you going to say?”

Isla looked away, her pen tapping against the page, her fingers twitching like she was considering throwing something at me and damning the consequences. “Infuriating. Impossible. Overbearing. Shall I continue?” Her eyes cut back to me, the anger simmering.

“I assume that’s your way of thanking me?”

Isla’s bark of laughter was short and bitter. “For what?”

“For finally giving you what you want.” I leaned back against the booth, my arm resting along the curve. “You don’t want to feel watched? Done. You stay to this floor,onlythis floor, and I’ll take Rye off you.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Just like that?”

I held her stare, seeing her glare tighten as I failed to hide the grin. “Of course not.”

Isla huffed in disgust. “Of course not.”

I tapped my fingers along the leather behind her, enjoying the way she was trying so hard to act like she had any control here. “It’s a trade, Isla. You get no watchdog, and in return, I get something too.”

Her shoulders squared. “I already owe you a favor. I’m not agreeing to any more.”

I chuckled. “Relax, little control freak. This one’s simple.” I moved closer to her, lowering my voice. “You check in with me at the start and end of every day you’re here from now until the gala.”

“Check in with you?”

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