Misguided Vows: Chapter 1

“If you tell me one more time to move, I will move you.” I point my finger in the man’s face. Sure, he’s a bouncer thrice my size and blocking me from getting into the club, and I may or may not have drunk too much, but that’s precisely why I’m certain I can take him on.

But now I’m sobering up.

Because of this asshole.

“You go! Go and tell the owner who you’re not letting in,” I scream at him.

He crosses his arms over his puffed-out chest.

I want to kick him between the legs, hard.

But then the small voice of reason in the back of my mind reminds me that assaulting him might give me a night behind bars. I’m not really in agreement with that voice right now though.

But what else can I do? I stare at the badge clipped to his pants pocket that identifies him as security. It reads “Wilson.”

More like “Asshole.”

“Fucking hell,” I mutter as I reach into my bag and begin pushing shit around to find the invite. I swear I threw it in here, though I may have thrown it away.

I’ve been in England for almost a year—beautiful London. And while I don’t plan to stay permanently, I couldn’t pass up the opportunities that came with moving here, and I’ve come to love living here—except for moments like this with assholes like Wilson.

I shoot him the evil eye as I messily search through my belongings.

I design layouts for clubs and make them… more unique, like the club that this asshole is currently barring me from. I’m the designer. And tonight is the opening night. I didn’t plan to come, but the owner sent me an invite, and I had one too many glasses of wine after work and decided to actually show up. I tend to make it a thing to only visit the clubs I go to once or twice. I don’t know why; I think maybe it helps keep my creative juices flowing to seamlessly move from one project straight to the next. I see something and think I can make that better. What can I do differently here? How can I leave my mark?

Next time, however, perhaps I should suggest to the owner to not hire such assholes as security.

I hiccup as l finally feel what I hope is the invitation. When I go to pull it out, someone bumps into me from behind and my phone falls from my other hand.

Is it fuck over Alina night or what?

When I look up, a man is standing casually with his hands in his pockets. The first thing I notice are the bluest eyes I have ever seen as he looks me over. He kicks up an arrogant smile, forming a single dimple, as I blatantly stare at him. And I remind myself that even when drunk it’s not okay to so obviously drool over a man. They don’t need those kinds of confidence boosters.

“Come in, sir,” the bouncer welcomes him.

Are you fucking kidding me?

I see red. Mister blue eyes bends down, picks up my phone, and hands it to me while the arrogant smile never leaves his lips. I swipe it from him, seriously wanting to wipe that smug expression from his face.

“Most women would say thank you. But who am I to teach etiquette to a stranger?” he says with a thick British accent. My jaw drops and, for the first and probably only time in my life, I’m speechless. He casually shrugs as he goes to walk past the bouncer.

“You just let him in. What, does he, like, fuck the owner or something?” I’m fully aware I’m yelling now and everyone around us can hear me. But I’ll be fucked if I’m just going to be pushed around like this.

Mr. Blue Eyes scrunches his nose, as if torn as to whether he should keep walking or not, but he stops long enough to shoot me a patronizing glare. No, it’s not the stare that infuriates me, it’s that fucking smile. “I’m no bouncer, but I imagine even if you did have an invitation, there’s no way you’re getting in. You’re clearly intoxicated,” he says in his thick accent.

“And you’re clearly an asshole, but apparently they don’t discriminate for that,” I say as I flip him off.

It looks like he bites the inside of his cheek and steps out of the way as a woman comes through the front doors.

“Alina.” Maria, the owner of the club bounces out, shocked, as she eyes the bouncer. Mr. Blue Eyes seems to have vanished into the club. “What are you doing out here?” she asks, and waves for me to come in. I point to her bouncer with a perfectly manicured nail and narrow my gaze.

“I’ve been telling this man I was invited, and he has persisted that I should remain outside and freeze.”

“She’s drunk,” he accuses.

I roll my eyes, which makes Maria almost laugh. We started off working together but have become friends.

“She designed this place. Alina is always welcome.” She offers her hand to me. I point my nose up in the air, suddenly feeling inches taller—and not just because of the heels—as I walk past him.

There, take that, asshole.

I notice the wallet sticking out of the back pocket of his pants before lifting my gaze back to Maria. I was going to fuck with this guy.

The moment I pass through the doors my mood shifts with the atmosphere. I’m so glad I wore a tight, black dress and left my auburn hair down in waves. I always pull it back when I’m working since it almost touches my lower back, but tonight, I wanted to feel the vibe of the club.

A smile touches my lips as I look around. Everyone is dancing, the music is loud, and the bar is full. Maria wanted to go with an old-school mafia vibe, so the space is dark with brown leather couches in the VIP areas. Greenery hangs from the ceiling, and paintings of old mobsters are hung on the exposed brick. Although not a smoker myself, I appreciate the cigar area with a separate whiskey bar. All the couches are filled. It looks like a full house tonight.

When I see it all in action, I can’t help but smile. It’s one of my favorite designs so far.

“I love it,” I confess. And no one is a harsher critic than myself, but considering money wasn’t a barrier on this place, I could execute every intricate detail.

“Me too. You were worth every penny and more,” she gushes as she grabs my arm and squeezes. I don’t often become friends with my clients, but it was almost immediate with Maria, and right now, it feels like we just won big together.

Every time I finish a project, it reminds me of how I started, and I’m so glad I backed myself from the very start. I started out studying design but dropped out because, ironically, I couldn’t afford the tuition at the time. I wanted to go back, but instead ended up kind of doing my own thing. I revamped my apartment back in Los Angeles, and my roommate at the time was posting updates on social media without me knowing. Thanks to her, it kind of blew up from there, and I progressively continued gaining wealthier clients and bigger contracts. I went from being a dropout to carrying around a designer purse and loving my life.

A photographer walks past us, and Maria bounces and pleads, “Come get a photo with me.”

“You know I don’t take photos, but smile, this is your moment,” I encourage.

Although all of my projects and updates are on social media, I’ve never once showed my face. The work speaks for itself. At least that’s what I tell clients but we all have our own demons to run away from. Mine might simply find me on social media––something I’d like to actively avoid.

She takes the photo, having no issue with being the center of attention. Once the photographer gives her the thumbs up, she grabs my wrist and basically begins dragging me again.

“Come on. Some of my family and friends are here, and I would love for you to meet them.” She takes me back to the VIP area where three men and two women are casually sitting on the couch. Their conversation comes to a stop as we approach. It’s dark so I follow Maria’s gaze to the first person on the left.

“This is Alina Harper,” Maria says excitedly.

“So you’re the one we’ve heard all about,” one of the women says with a smile.

I eye Maria, and she gushes. “What? You’re a baddie and the mastermind behind all of this. It’s fucking incredible!”

Heat scorches my cheeks, and I don’t think it has anything to do with the few drinks I had before coming here.

I’ve only been doing this for two years and it all still feels like a pinch-me moment.

“This is my best friend, Pocket.” Maria waves to the little blonde woman who spoke before. She goes around the list of people, but I freeze when she points to Mr. Blue Eyes at the end. His blond hair is trimmed short, and he nods with a knowing smirk. With a drink in hand, he adjusts his suit jacket smugly. How had I not noticed him right away?

“Is your phone safe?” he asks, and I’m certain the asshole is mocking me. I clutch my phone tightly to my chest. Fuck. How embarrassing. He would’ve seen me screaming at the bouncer and everything. Please tell me he’s just a douchebag boyfriend to one of these women, and no one important.

“You know Alina?” Maria asks, surprised.

“No, he just helped me when I dropped my phone outside,” I’m quick to explain.

“I would call it saving the helpless, but okay,” he retorts in his strong British accent.

“Will, play nice,” Maria scolds before looking at me apologetically. “Sorry, Alina, our parents never could beat the smartass out of him,” she jokes.

“He’s your brother?” I ask and try not to die from embarrassment.

“Yes, he’s actually how I afforded all of this… and you. Remember how I told you my brother gave me a loan to get started?” she says, smiling.

I swallow. Hard. I remember, I just didn’t think her brother was around the same age as us and looked like he was built from God’s divine hand and gifted with the personality of a mule.

“Do you want a drink?” Maria asks with a bright smile.

“I think she may already be drunk.” There’s that voice again.

Without thinking, I swing my head around to him and narrow my gaze.

“I am not. I was just mad,” I say matter-of-factly.

He lifts his glass to me and nods his head. “If you say so, milady.” I cringe at that word and then turn back to Maria.

“I’m going to go. I just wanted to stop in and see how everything was going.” I turn around, giving her friends and family my back as I look out at the sea of patrons celebrating.

“Oh. Okay.” Maria looks disappointed. “In that case, just wait here for a minute. I have something for you.”

She’s gone before I can say anything, so I watch the people on the dance floor instead, purposefully ignoring the direction of her brother. There’s a couple basically humping on the floor while two girls next to them are throwing their hands up in the air and dancing.

“So, you’re clever as well as pretty,” someone says from beside me.

“I’m not sleeping with you,” I reply, knowing without looking that it’s him. And to be honest, I don’t want to look his way for the sole fact I’m afraid those eyes will hypnotize me. Because maybe, just maybe, a small part of me is still a little tipsy.

“Damn, milady, that was an arrow straight to my bloody heart.” I roll my eyes. “At least show us your tits.” This gets my attention, and I face him. “There she is. I didn’t actually mean for you to show me, but if the offer is there.” His gaze falls to my cleavage before rising to my face again.

“I should slap you right now.”

“It might turn me on.” He winks as his tongue darts out and he licks his top teeth. How can someone so pretty, who looks like they just strutted off a runaway, entice my wildest fantasies yet also make me want to commit murder?

“Alina.” Maria walks back over and holds out a present. She eyes her brother first before looking at me. “Please excuse my brother; he has no filter. I swear they forgot it when he was born. I apologize for whatever he may have said when I wasn’t here.”

I smile and take the present.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I tell her, trying my best to ignore said brother. “You did pay me.”

“You should up your prices. Some people pay triple for the magic you performed and don’t even put in the same amount of work you do.”

“Thank you.” I look around the club one last time, satisfied. “I have to go, but I’ll open this and text you when I’m home. I’m so happy you love it.” I lean in and kiss her cheek. Looking to her brother, I’m as polite as possible, giving him a sharp smile and nod before walking off. Some might call me petty, but I consider myself more or less a calculated woman.

As I step out into the fresh air, the bouncer eyes me, I twist my lips into a smile and flash him his name badge I’d unclipped from his pocket earlier and hid in my bag.

I throw it on the ground beside him. “You dropped something, asshole,” I say, feeling rather smug as he accidently steps on it, looking confused as to how it got on the ground in the first place.

It puts a pep in my step as I leave. When I’m out of his sight line, I pull out the wallet I’d stolen from his pocket on the way in. He’d been so distracted by Maria that he hadn’t even noticed.

I flick through it, amused by the two hundred pounds in it. I don’t need the money, but it serves the asshole right.

Where some might have a moral compass, I don’t—at least when it comes to revenge. If you want to get in my way, I’ll make you regret it.

I round the corner, where a homeless woman is sitting with a cute puppy. I throw the bundled cash into her beanie, and her eyes grow wide.

I continue walking and toss the wallet into a trash can before waving down a cab.

Tonight was a good night indeed.