Page 66 of Her Ruin

My fingers itched against my glass, my skin prickled with awareness, and my pulse felt a little too unsteady.

Sienna nudged my arm. “You’re tense?”

I forced a wide smile. “Isla is always tense.”

She laughed, throwing her head back. “Okay, let’s fix this. We’re dancing!”

“Again!” I screeched as she pulled me to the dance floor. It didn’t matter. She was very good at pretending she couldn’t hear me. On the dance floor, I didn’t feel so unnerved. On the dance floor, I could pretend I wasn’t in the place where Zayn had stabbed me in the back just a week ago.

No, not the back. He’d stabbed me in the chest and kept eye contact the whole time.

Bastard.

Closing my eyes, I let the music wash over me. I didn’t want to think about him anymore. He wasn’t worth the free rent in my head.

Swaying to the music, my arms in the air, I let go of it all. The tequila and the excitement of my friend being in the club whose owner tried to ruin me—it was all too much. I simply let go and enjoyed the song and the crush of bodies around me.

Strands of hair clung to my damp skin, and I didn’t care. I danced on. A warm body pressed against me, and I stepped away, Sienna’s hold on my arm keeping me with her as we moved away from any unwanted male attention.

I checked that she was okay. She was already lost in the music again, and I followed her lead. Another hip bump, and I was sick of being jostled by guys who didn’t get the hint.

I felt it before I even opened my eyes.

A slow heat, a shift in the air, a presence that stole the oxygen from the room.

Sienna leaned into me. “Found him.”

My stomach dipped, and I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to stay calm as I opened my eyes.

And there he was.

He stood on the edge of the dance floor, near the VIP section, holding a bottle of water. Dressed in what was beginning to become his signature black on black, his shirt sleeves were pushed up, exposing tantalizing flesh. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t talking. He wasn’t doing anything at all.

Just watching me.

Unmoving. Unblinking. Unapologetic.

The flickering neon lights cut across his sharp features, casting shadows over his strong jaw, his eyes unreadable but still too damn intense.

My throat felt dry. I shouldn’t have worn this dress.

I shouldn’t have come here at all.

But I refused to look away first.

His gaze dragged over me, slow and deliberate, a silent assessment. A silent caress. Like he wasn’t already rewriting the narrative of whatever this was in his head.

With one look, I knew he was about to change the game. Again.

His lip curled up into a smirk, and my stomach flipped.

“Because there’s nothing between you at all,” Sienna drawled, sounding smug as hell.

I ignored her.

Instead, I lifted my chin, turned my back to him, and started to dance again, knowing I had already lost whatever battlethatwas. I knew the second I looked away, the instant I let my guard down for even a moment…Zayn was going to make his next move.

Sienna slid up beside me, and I could practically taste her anticipation as she prepared to demand answers.

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