Page 2 of Misguided Vows

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, suddenlyfeeling 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 apartmentback 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 ofpeople, 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.

---