Page 7 of Unwritten Vows

Liza

I have had drinks before. I’ve had wine and champagne plenty of times at parties. I even felt a little tipsy at last year’s Christmas party.

Derrick is such an arrogant asshole . He thinks he’s right about everything.

He thinks he has me all figured out, like I’m some pure, stupid little girl who’s never stepped a toe out of line in my life.

He has no idea what a run I give Daddy for his money, or how much illegal shit I know about.

Daddy might shield me from most things, but I’m not stupid.

I know what goes on, and I’m certainly okay with breaking a few laws.

But Daddy always taught me: you never get caught. I don’t want someone of importance to see me downing drinks or wasted out of my mind. Derrick’s reputation may be a shit show, but I don’t want that for myself. I like my good girl reputation just the way it is.

But, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. Or when in a trashy club, do as the man with a trashed reputation does. So, I drink my wine, get another, and drink that one down as fast as possible also.

“See? Like I don’t know how to—” To my eternal frustration, I hiccup. I pretend as though I stopped to clear my throat and try again. “I obviously know how to drink. And I’ve done it before. It’s just that I don’t want to be viewed as a young, dumb idiot.”

Derrick gives an infuriatingly casual shrug. “You’ll learn one day, little Liza, that people will say whatever the fuck they want about you. Shit like that only breaks the weak-minded.”

I don’t even know what to say to that for a full ten seconds. I’ve missed the window for a quip, but I awkwardly try it anyway. “Well, if it’s true, maybe they’re just being honest with themselves. Maybe the others who deny it are the weak-minded.”

He turns his full, searing gaze on me again. These looks of his are so off-putting—like he’s concentrating all of his sincerity into it, even though I was certain he had none.

“Do you think it’s true, dear little Liza? Do you think I’m a young, dumb idiot?”

With the burden of being a good girl comes the burden of never hurting anyone’s feelings. It’s a strange balancing act. I love snark and sarcasm, but I can’t tell if Derrick is being sincere or not in his seeming hope for my approval.

When faced with his full attention, it’s hard for me to formulate a response that is both gentle and truthful.

“I think there’s probably more to you, but I find it foolish to go out and bill yourself the way you do, as the young, dumb idiot.

So in some ways, I do think you’re a little, um, dumb, I guess.

” I wince at the “um.” That’s twice now that he’s made me use it.

I gulp my third glass of wine and set it down. Perhaps I’m just a little less eloquent because of the drinks. I can’t be expected to speak perfectly all the damn time, especially not after a few glasses of wine.

Derrick smirks over his own glass. “So, you think I’m dumb—or, well, you guess I am. I wonder what you’ll think if you get to know me better.”

He leaves that open-ended, and I understand what it really means.

For some reason, the alcohol makes me bold and curious, so I ask a question I never would normally.

“Do you actually like me or something? Do you actually want to date me?” It just seems so strange to me, but the way he’s acting makes it seem like he might actually care about what I think of him.

He leans back and considers me for a moment.

“Obviously our families are powerful and very rich, so we make a good pair. I think we both know that your father has the upperhand here, so at first, I’m always wary of that.

I don’t like being in the passenger’s seat anyway.

” He thinks for a moment, leaning back and taking a lingering bite of a white truffle french fry, before answering.

“But you’re also interesting to me. You’re somewhat of an anomaly in this life.

Most billionaire parents try to exploit their children in one way or another, let’s face it.

They try to make you just like them, they try to build up their reputation with you, they use you to look better or for fame or power.

They use their children for whatever leverage they can gain from them.

But your father hasn’t done that, and I don’t even think he’s doing it now.

He acts with me as if he’d like us to marry, all because he thinks I’m a responsible young gentleman, and that you’ll like me.

I get the feeling that he truly is trying to find a good match for you. I can’t help but be intrigued by that.”

Finally, he leans in, as if ready for the kill, and I put my drink between us and sip it so I can get some distance from this intensity.

“And of course, you’re gorgeous, little Liza.

You’re like an untouched beauty, uncorrupted by this world in which we live.

And there’s this thing about most mafia men, Liza.

We want to break that innocence open and look inside, chip away at it, and maybe even see if we can take some for ourselves. ”

Further and further he leans over the table, pushing me back like the opposite pole of a magnet. But it feels like it would take next to nothing—just a little flip—to pull me back in. And I don’t know why.

“So, does that mean I like you?” Finally, he leans back and I sag forward, as if he’s released me. “I’m not sure. I guess we’ll have to find out.”

*****

I’ve officially had more than my three drink max, and I’m usually drinking spritzers. I didn’t realize how much harder wine would hit me, but now I have to deal with a lot more than the buzz I usually feel.

“Whoa, easy there,” Derrick says as I wobble upon standing from the table. He does major overkill a second later, sliding his arm around my waist and pulling me against him. “Got you.”

Being this close to his face, my inhibitions clearly lowered, I realize how attracted to him I truly am. He smells like expensive cologne and tangy aftershave. His perfectly cropped stubble brushes lightly across my temple, and I shiver.

He must feel it, because he puts his mouth to my ear, like it’s a secret between us. “I don’t think that shiver was just from imbalance.” I feel my heart rate pick up, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe in here.

Jesus Christ, Liza, get a hold of yourself! Three drinks and I can’t even stop my body from overheating from a hot guy’s touch? What the hell has gotten into me?

I push him away firmly and walk on my own, making sure to take extra care not to stumble.

I put perhaps too much effort into this task, because when I look up again, I find that Derrick has led me into a much rowdier scene.

We’re beginning to walk into a darker space with what must be hundreds of gyrating bodies in beautiful clothing, sweating their asses off.

It feels more like a gym full of models in cocktail attire than a high-end, exclusive club.

I know I can’t seem like I’m intimidated in any way, so I look around nonchalantly for the bar. When I see it, I start walking without looking back. My security team is a distant memory—I know they’re around and paid very well to keep me in their sight at all times.

Derrick follows behind me silently until he realizes where I’m going. “Are you thinking of getting another drink?”

He sounds almost surprised. Possibly even a little concerned. I give him a curious side-long glance. “Yeah, obviously. That’s what a club is for, right? Getting drunk and rubbing up against hot people? Which, by the way, I’m not doing. Well, I’m not doing the second one.”

Derrick gives what can only be described as an uneasy snicker. I’m even more curious now. “Okay, what’s going on? You look like you might care about something in that apathetic brain of yours.”

He thinks for a moment and then seems to make a decision to say it. “I don’t think you should get drunk. I think the way you are right now is perfect, and your father will get pissed at both of us if you get wasted while you’re out with me.”

This makes me flat out laugh, before turning away from him. He started me drinking tonight, and now he wants to tell me to stop? “Okay, that is fucking hilarious.”

“Jesus Christ, Liza, you dropped an F bomb. This is worse than I thought.” The music gets louder as I continue to push through the throng of bodies.

I know he’s talking to me, but I can’t hear him anymore.

When he notices that I’m ignoring him, he grabs my arm and speaks in my ear over the loud music.

“I’m serious, Liza. I’m not an idiot. I know you’ve never gotten drunk before. ”

Now I shoot daggers at him with my eyes, hoping they burn down to his very soul. “How the fuck would you know? What, did Daddy tell you about that? Despite what you may think, Daddy doesn’t know everything about me. And you don’t know anything .”

I turn on my heel and make a decision to ignore the fact that I’m touching massive amounts of stranger’s bodies and perspiration. I squeeze myself in between two women that look identical and have on the same low-cut, semi-formal crop-top style dress.

I look down at my conservative frock and realize that I’m even more out of place here than I was in the weird sexy cat restaurant upstairs.

I yell my order to the bartender, and as I wait, I tighten my bra straps and adjust myself under my dress.

I try to be discreet, crouching down and disappearing behind the swarm of bodies around me, but I hear Derrick’s voice somewhere behind me yell something like, “What are you doing?”

When I’m done, my modest-sized breasts push up slightly and just barely peek out from the scooping neckline of my dress. There’s a bit of give to it, so I pull it up on my shoulders and down in the middle.

My drink has come in the meantime and I look blankly at it, trying to remember what I ordered. That’s when I realize I don’t have my pocketbook on me.