Page 6 of Unwritten Vows

Derrick

My dear Zaychik is lying to me. She’s never been to a club, and I can tell. If she was ever into the club scene, I’d know it. There would most definitely be just one or two paparazzi photos of her if that were the case.

All thebetter for me, though. Now I can show her what my world is really like. I’m about to show her what it means to be young, beautiful, and rich in New York City. She’ll love me for it.

“Derrick, I’m certain my father would not want me to go to a club called… the Dirty Black Kitty Cat.”

Her eyebrow is raised and she looks at me dubiously as her graceful throat works.

She doesn’t want to go in, but she definitely doesn’t want me to know that, and her nerves are clearly getting the best of her.

Now that she’s already called my bluff though, she won’t be able to say no.

All she can do is blame Daddy for not being allowed to do something she truly doesn’t want to do.

Too bad for her, I’ve already gotten the go ahead from her father to take her out and show her a good time.

Daddy finally wants his little girl to have some fun and has decided I’m the right person for the job.

Her security seems suspicious of this place, but they look on and say nothing.

It’s not up to them right now. It’s up to me to make sure she stays safe.

With Daddy’s blessing, I can also push her right out of her comfort zone, too. Which I fully intend to do.

I pretend to consider her and her words. “Well, if you think it’s too much for you, we could always just see if the library is still open.”

She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “Oh shut up. Fine. We can go in, but just for a little bit. I’m really not dressed for this. I mean, if you would have just told me…”

She trails off, and I know exactly why. Because she doesn’t have anything in her wardrobe that would be appropriate for a place like this, and we both know it.

It doesn’t matter. She looks exactly the way I want her to look—I can’t wait for everyone to see innocent little Eliza Andreeva on my arm in her most modest, platonic, knee-length dress.

I lay my hand on the small of her back, pushing ever-so-lightly, and she nearly jumps to try to wriggle away from it. But it gets her moving in the right direction: toward the entrance and into the club.

It’s not quite 7 p.m., so we have some time before things get really rowdy. She thought this would be a simple dinner and maybe a show, so we’re far earlier than the wild crowd. That’s okay—it will be wild enough for me to have my fun. We can leave before the real party starts if we have to.

I bring her up to the rooftop first, reserved for extra special VIPs.

The decor is black, black, and more black, with scratches and fur accents on the walls.

Scattered throughout are floor to ceiling frames of men and women in skin tight catsuits, in all sorts of compromising positions.

I’m probably being too nice by easing her in the way I am, but at least this will get her used to the feel of what’s to come.

She looks deliciously uncomfortable as we walk past a particularly scandalous photo of two humans dressed up as furries and doing the dirty, and she quickly averts her eyes as soon as she realizes what position they’re in.

“I mean, this just feels a little over the top. Even for Derrick Stepinov. Don’t you think?”

I tsk her and shake my head. “It’s bad form to kink shame, even if you’re not familiar with the lifestyle, little Liza.”

She scoffs, and to my surprise, puts together a quick and logical rebuttal.

“Oh please. You think those perfectly molded models are actually therians? Honestly, they’re the ones who should be ashamed, posing this way when they don’t really feel the all-consuming certainty that they are not the human species.

They’re playing on the emotions of real furries. ”

I gather that the word “therians” is another word for “furry” and make a note to Google it later.

Right now, I’m going to have to side step it so she doesn’t realize that she knows a word I don’t.

“I think real furries enjoy looking at perfectly molded individuals as much as the rest of us, whether they’re just pretending or not.

You think all the women in Playgirl want to be lying naked on a beach with the outline of a thong bikini spray painted onto their nether regions? ”

She waves me off. “Playgirl is not kinky. It’s the male condition.”

Normally I would hate this sassy attitude, but her insistence on challenging me is exciting me, and her smart little mouth is getting me hot as fuck for her. I want to take her over my knee and teach her a lesson on how to be the good, innocent little girl she pretends to be.

“Whatever. I’m sure furries like that.” I point to a particularly hot poster of a woman dressed as catwoman fucking a cartoon half-cat-man.

Liza seems to be getting bored with the conversation and just shrugs as we’re seated at a spacious, shiny onyx table with a statue of two cats on their hind legs, doing something more than wrestling, it looks like.

“Their theming is very detail oriented, I will give them that.”

I almost laugh before the waiter comes by to drop off our dinner. I ordered before we got here: a medium rare burger with frizzled onions, tomato jam, and gruyere cheese. I expect her to look at it in disgust, but she looks on with more curiosity than anything else.

“What’s on it?”

I explain without expression.

“It better be cooked right.”

“You’ll have to try it to find out.”

She looks at it for just a moment more before picking it up and taking a dainty bite. She tries to keep her face impassive, but I’m shocked to see the hearts in her eyes. She fucking loves it.

She finishes chewing and swallows. “It’s satisfactory,” she says, before taking another hulking bite.

I raise a brow as I bite into my own, but let her clear understatement go. I have more pressing matters to attend to. I need to know a lot more about her.

“So, your security is a little clingy. I’m wondering how you ever get the freedom to go off on your own to a place like this?

Your father said you haven’t really been into the dating scene too much.

In fact, he seemed to think you were more of a small friend group, book club, bowling alley, roller-skating rink type girl. ”

Her cheeks redden slightly and she tries to cover it up by dabbing her lips with her napkin. “Daddy doesn’t know everything I do,” she states simply.

I take another bite and pretend to think that over as I chew.

“Oh, okay. It’s just that you have a personal chauffeur and a four-man security team.

And I doubt your father would like you walking around the city without them.

” My eyes go wide with false intrigue. “Oh, has little Liza ever snuck out?” I’m messing with her.

I’m about 90% sure she’s never done such a thing in her entire sheltered life.

Liza’s mouth opens as she tries to come up with something to say, and then abruptly closes again after just a pitiful, short, scoffing sound.

Finally, she huffs her annoyance. “Fine, I haven’t exactly been to a club just like this one.

” She puts down her burger and takes a deep breath in, letting it out slowly through her teeth.

“I don’t understand what’s so great about a place like this anyway.

So I can have some asshole rub up against me and try to feel me up on the dance floor? No thank you.”

I shrug; she’s got a point, after all. That is one reason why most men and women come to these places. “Well, it can be fun, despite that part of it.”

“Hmm. I suppose you’re going to be the one to show me how fun it can be, huh?”

“I don’t want to brag, but I’m probably your best bet, yes.”

The waiter comes and sets down two glasses of wine before us. Mine is dry and red, but Liza’s is white and sweet.

She pauses as she looks at it, then blinks up at me, a slight question in her eyes.

“I figured you’d like sweet wine? I got the Reisling.”

She drums her nails on the table, then leans closer to me. “You’re very rich, so perhaps you forgot and no one wanted to correct you. I’m 20 years old, which means I’m not supposed to be drinking.”

I’m so surprised that a young billionaire would even be concerned about such a frivolous law that I let out a small snicker.

I school my expression and lean closer to her, putting my hand up to my mouth and lowering my voice considerably like I’m telling her a secret.

“You’re rich too, which means you don’t have to care. ”

She shakes her head, but her gaze darts toward the glass again. “If anyone saw me drinking… I mean, if the tabloids find out I’m here…”

I shake my head back at her. “ Moya Zaychik , you will be written up in a tabloid at some point. It’s the fate of us rich, famous socialites. You can’t hide away forever, and especially if you’ll be dating me for any length of time —”

“You are so presumptuous,” she says, rolling her eyes. “The reason I wouldn’t date you is because you’re a tabloid and social media whore. I don’t want to be like that.”

“Liza, please tell me you’ve tried alcohol. I mean, I’ve been drinking at clubs since I was 16 years old.”

She huffs. “Well, yes, at private parties I do as I please. I’ve been drunk before.”

“Okay, so what is the big deal? There’s barely anyone in this room. There’s no paparazzi in here and our security is right by the door.”

“If they did see me though…” She bites her lip.

I roll my eyes and pretend like I’m giving in. “Okay, so what do you want? A milk?”

She seethes through her teeth, but as I was hoping, she picks up the glass and drains it in one go. She waves to the waiter and points down, like an old pro at ordering in fancy restaurants. I smile and nod my approval.

This night is shaping up to be even better than I’d planned.