Page 48 of Unwritten Vows

Liza

I don’t believe my father will kill Derrick, if only because I know he’s telling us the truth.

But just because he won’t kill him doesn’t mean I’ll be allowed to have him.

It doesn’t mean anyone trusts him. That reality hits hard after my father tells me that Derrick’s torture is over, he is mending but alive, and will be leaving the next day.

“I would like to go with him, just to make sure—”

“Absolutely not.” My father’s voice booms out of him and his face is a mask of stoicism, a look he has extremely rarely, if ever, used with me.

I’m so unused to it that my knees buckle and I stumble back just a fraction before locking them in place.

Still, I’m scared, and I think it’s obvious. I gulp with nerves.

I see him blink twice, but there is no further indication that he’s cracking at all, even as he shows me a side of him that he never wants me to see. Even if he’s scaring me. It seems he has prepared himself for this.

I push my next words to sound braver than I am at the moment. “You can’t stop me from seeing him.”

“So help me God, Liza, I will lock you in a room before that happens. I was wrong. I made a mistake. I will never make the same mistake again.”

My chest feels like it’s on fire. Suddenly, I’m no longer scared. There’s no room for fear when it feels like my entire world is cracking at the seams. “Father, you’re being unreasonable!”

His nostrils flare, but he holds his ground.

“No, Eliza, you are. You can’t see past the charm.

He lied to us. He spied and snuck around behind our backs.

He knew that his father wanted him to marry Edoardo’s daughter, and he kept up the ruse, all while stringing you along to keep both options on the table. ”

My mouth drops open. “But… he was just trying to protect me. His father would have done something…”

“What?” Daddy asks, his tone finally softening. “What would he have done? Has Derrick ever given you an answer?”

“Kind of,” I say, my voice shaking. “He killed him. That means something.”

“That could have been for a number of reasons.”

I plead with my father to look deeper. “His father was awful. He was forced, Daddy. He was going to kill Mara Whitney, and Derrick knew what he was capable of. He didn’t want to upset the balance…” Everything I say sounds like an excuse.

“He chose his side,” my father says, his voice unyielding.

I raise my eyes to my father’s. “You have to let me speak to him. With the cameras, with everything. If you believe that what he said under torture is true, I’ll stay within that scope.

And I’ll tell him beforehand so he doesn’t try to skirt around the questions.

But I don’t think he will, Daddy. I think he wants to tell us everything. I know when he’s not being sincere.”

“You know?” Daddy had adopted his stern stance again, but I can see the barest sign of pity in his eyes. He pities me because I believe Derrick is being honest.

And he confirms my suspicion a moment later. “You can tell that a man trained to deceive for sixteen years is being sincere?”

I bite down hard on my back teeth. “You were just telling me the other day how weak he is. So what is it then? Is he weak, or has he been trained in this life for sixteen years and learned how to be perfect at everything?”

He hisses his breath through his nose. “I’m sorry, my girl. Whether he is trustworthy or not doesn’t matter. Now that the doubt is there it can’t be undone.”

He goes to walk away, but I follow him, fuming mad that he’s turning his back on me before this conversation is over.

“ Now the doubt is there? Now ? For me, the doubt was there from the beginning. Sure, whatever, he won me over. But he won me over far slower than he won you over! You both lead sects of the mafia . Of course there’s doubt!

There should be doubt from the beginning. Perhaps you trusted too much.”

My father ignores me, waving his hand as if to dismiss me, like I’m some pesky little fly too close to his face. I won’t allow it. I speed up and run in front of him, all five feet and two inches of me blocking him with my hand out in front of me.

“Perhaps he was different then, but he was still doing what you all do. He was just trying to protect himself in what he viewed as a business transaction. What you yourself portrayed as a business transaction! But he changed , Daddy. And that’s why I…

” My voice breaks and I back up a step, letting my hand fall, just knowing that my father will think I’m the most gullible little child he’s ever seen. But I say it anyway.

“That’s why I love him.” My voice breaks and tears mist my eyes.

I can’t look at his face. I don’t want to see his shame in me over something that I care so deeply about.

Over something I almost had—something that should have been so easy—but was made impossible by this life he’s dragged me into.

It’s not my fault that I love Derrick, but I’m the victim of these circumstances nonetheless.

There is an impossibly long pause as I feel waves of something from my father, but the energy has changed somehow. It doesn’t feel charged with anger. More like helplessness.

And that’s exactly what I see on his face when I look up, finally.Helplessness, with a generous side of shame.

“That’s what he said today, as well. As he was being… persuaded to speak. Very painfully. He didn’t beg. He didn’t lie. He said for us to keep him there for as long as we needed to because he’s in love with you.”

I gasp in and give a ragged breath out. A tear finally plops onto my cheek. “Please. Please let me talk to him.”

Daddy shakes his head. “You may see him if you must. But he will leave tomorrow, my Solnyshko , no matter what he says. And you will stay here.”

*****

I’ve never been to the basement before, and as I’m escorted down the stairs, I can see why.

It’s not exactly disgusting , it just feels…

off. It feels like these walls hold secrets that I never want to know.

The astringent scent of lemon and pine stings my sinuses, and I wince with its potency.

It is colder down here than it is above and utterly quiet.

I see him lying in a heap on a mattress on the floor.

I almost gasp at the conditions, even though they aren’t really that bad.

There’s even a tiny window above him that lets in a small ray of sunlight.

It’s just shocking to see a billionaire underboss of a Bratva family curled up on what seems to be an old, slightly stained mattress in a small, sterile, white-walled room.

“Derrick?” I ask timidly, laying a hand on his arm. His bruises have faded, and locks of his short, dark blond waves fall against his tan skin, curling near his strong jawline and against his sharp cheekbones. It’s somehow beautiful and masculine, tender and strong, all at the same time.

He’s sleeping heavily, breath rushing in and out of his chest in a slow rhythm. I feel bad waking him, but I nudge his arm anyway. “Derrick, wake up.”

He doesn’t move a muscle, even when I push a little harder and call his name again. That’s when I get nervous. “Derrick! Are you okay?”

He makes a sound like he’s choking, and then tries to move, before making the same noise again and falling limp against the mattress. His face is a mask of pain. “Ow, fuck!”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He’s shaking a little and his entire face is a wince. “It’s okay. It’s… it’s okay. I’ve been waiting for you to come.”

“Why are you still feeling this way?” I know I sound panicked, and I suppose I am.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen another human hurt so badly.

Just because I can’t see the scars doesn’t mean whatever my father did to him wasn’t barbaric.

“What did they do? Didn’t they give you something to help with the pain? ”

I’m surprised when he gives a shaky smile through trembling lips. “Little Liza,” he says, closing his eyes and cupping his abdomen after he snickers too hard, “you are so… so sweet.”

“I’m not trying to be fucking sweet,” I say, grabbing his face in my hands and forcing him to stare straight into my eyes. “What did he do to you?”

He swallows and tries but fails to keep his voice light with his next words. “Did you know that your father has a rack?” he tells me, his voice breaking. “Like, an old-school wooden rack with a crank and everything.”

I swallow past the nausea in my throat and look backward toward the guard. “Get Ibuprofen, please. And some ice water with plenty of rags.

“I’ll have to ask—”

My voice changes from manufactured politeness to something else.

It comes out low and gritty, completely foreign to my own ears.

“I swear to God, if you say one more word of that sentence, then every second you waste will be a second I make sure you also get the life stretched out of you. I’m Eliza Andreeva, the Bolyar’s daughter. Do what I say, now.”

He blinks at me for half a second, then walks away, doing a double take as he goes. I’m sure he’s about to speak into his stupid smart watch to ask if it’s okay to give the prisoner pain relief, but if my father denies him… well, I’ll do something we’ll both regret. I’ll leave.

But for now, I turn back toward Derrick and take a deep breath. “It’s okay. I’m going to help.”

“Liza, I don’t need—”

I put my finger to his mouth and silence him in Russian. “ Pomolchi, pozhalusta ,” I say with a smile. Please be quiet .

He smiles back and somehow bats my finger away with a heavy hand.

“I’ll let that one slide because… well, because I can barely move.

But you listen to me.” He grabs my finger in his hand.

“ Kak tol’ko ya popravlyus’, tebe luchshe uskakat’, zaychik.

” Once I’m healed, you better make sure you hop away, little bunny.