The inherited vow

Chapter 8 : Alina

I glanced at Irina through the mirror.

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

Irina nodded.

“She's right.”

I looked at my reflection again.

“Let's just hope this works.”

Bella squeezed my shoulder.

“It will.”

I wasn't nearly as confident.

But I nodded anyway.

Irina left first.

She had no reason to sneak around. It was her birthday, and everyone expected her to be going to the club.

She walked straight out the front door, got into her car, and drove away.

My father's men remained outside.

Exactly where I needed them.

Bella peeked through the curtain.

“They're still there.”

I walked over and looked through the window.

The SUVs hadn't moved.

“Good.”

Bella glanced at me.

“You're enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe.”

We waited another few minutes.

Then Bella grabbed her bag.

“Ready?”

I nodded.

She opened the back door.

We slipped outside quietly.

The cool night air hit my face.

I looked back at the house.

The guards were still positioned at the front.

They had no idea we were leaving.

For once, my father's obsession with keeping me protected was working in my favor.

We walked far enough down the street before Bella pulled out her phone.

“Cab?”

“Cab.”

A few minutes later, the car arrived.

We got in.

And just like that, I was officially on my way to making the biggest mistake of my life.

Or at least, that's what I thought at the time.

---

The club was already packed when we arrived.

Music vibrated through the walls, colorful lights flashed across the room, and people filled almost every available space.

Irina's friends were easy to spot.

They were already dancing, laughing, and taking pictures like they owned the place.

Irina spotted us almost immediately.

“You made it!”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the crowd.

For a while, I forgot about everything.

The engagement.

My parents.

Semyon.

My father's expectations.

All of it disappeared beneath the music.

But eventually, I remembered why I was there.

I leaned toward Bella.

“Okay.”

She turned toward me.

“Okay what?”

“We need to find someone.”

She stared at me.

Then she laughed.

“You're serious?”

“Very.”

Bella sighed.

“Fine.”

And so began the most ridiculous man hunt of my life.

We stood near the edge of the dance floor, pretending we were simply enjoying ourselves while quietly judging every man in sight.

“What about him?” I asked, pointing toward a guy with a low buzz cut, a fitted shirt, and cargo pants.

Bella studied him for a few seconds.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because he looks like several different types of STDs wearing cargo pants.”

I covered my mouth.

“Bella!”

“I'm serious.”

I looked at the guy again.

He was talking to two women at once, laughing while another woman stood nearby waiting for her turn.

“Okay.”

“Exactly.”

“Definitely a fuckboy.”

“Thank you.”

I shook my head.

“You're ridiculous.”

“And yet I'm helping you.”

A few minutes later, another guy caught my attention.

He was standing near the bar in a white shirt, talking to a group of women.

“What about him?”

Bella watched him for a moment.

“No.”

“You didn't even give him a chance.”

“I don't need one.”

“Why?”

“He's bought drinks for three different women since we got here.”

“Maybe he's just generous.”

Bella gave me a look.

“Ali.”

“What?”

“You know what you're doing.”

I laughed.

“Okay. Fine.”

We kept looking.

A tall man in an expensive-looking suit caught my attention next.

“What about him?”

Bella glanced over.

“No.”

“Why?”

“He's wearing a full suit to a club.”

“Maybe he came straight from work.”

“Then he should have stayed at work.”

I laughed.

“That's harsh.”

“I'm saving you.”

“From what?”

“Bad decisions.”

I looked around the room.

“That's literally what I'm here to make.”

She paused.

“Fair.”

Another man caught my eye.

He was laughing loudly with his friends and already looked slightly drunk.

“What about—”

“No.”

I looked at Bella.

“I didn't even finish.”

“You didn't have to.”

“Why?”

She pointed subtly toward him.

“He can barely stand.”

I watched him for a moment.

He nearly stumbled into a chair.

“Okay.”

“Exactly.”

We continued.

One man was clearly with someone.

Another looked like he would tell his friends every detail before the night was over.

One was so busy taking pictures of himself that I immediately lost interest.

After several failed attempts, I groaned.

“We're running out of options.”

“No,” Bella corrected. “We're running out of acceptable options.”

“What's the difference?”

“A lot.”

I was about to respond when something caught my attention.

Someone upstairs.

A man stood near the railing, dressed in a black suit.

He wasn't dancing.

He wasn't drinking.

He wasn't trying to attract anyone's attention.

He was simply standing there, speaking quietly to one of the men beside him.

There was something different about him.

I stared for a moment longer than I intended to.

Bella noticed.

Her eyes followed mine.

“Oh.”

I glanced at her.

“What?”

She took another look.

“Nothing.”

“Bella.”

She smiled.

“I think you've finally found someone.”

I looked upstairs again.

The man's face was partially turned away, but even from where I stood, I could tell he was attractive.

More importantly, he looked powerful.

Expensive.

Untouchable.

“Do you think he'd work?”

Bella considered him.

“He looks rich.”

I frowned.

“That's your qualification?”

“No.”

She paused.

“He also looks like the kind of man who doesn't scare easily.”

My eyes remained on him.

“You think he'd handle my father?”

Bella shrugged.

“I think he might be the one making your father nervous.”

I laughed softly.

“That's ridiculous.”

“Maybe.”

She took another sip of her drink.

“But rich people do stupid things.”

I shook my head.

“You're unbelievable.”

“Am I wrong?”

I didn't answer.

Because at that moment, the man upstairs turned his head.

Our eyes met.

Everything around me seemed to quiet for half a second.

He didn't look away.

Neither did I.

There was something unsettling about his gaze.

Calm.

Steady.

Almost as though he had been expecting me.

I quickly pushed the thought aside.

It didn't matter.

I needed a stranger.

And I had just found one.

Or so I thought.

I straightened my dress.

“I'm going up there.”

Bella caught my wrist.

“Ali.”

I looked at her.

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

She released me.

I made my way toward the stairs.

The closer I got, the more aware I became of the men surrounding him.

Two of them stepped forward as I approached.

“I'm here to see him,” I said.

One of them looked me over.

Before he could respond, the man upstairs lifted his hand slightly.

The guards immediately stepped aside.

I stopped.

Interesting.

I climbed the remaining steps and approached him.

He didn't move.

I took a breath.

“Hi. My name is Alina.”

His eyes settled on me.

“Hello.”

" what is it that you want" .His voice was calm and low, with the faintest trace of a Russian accent.

I swallowed.

“Can I ask you something?”

“go on.”

I blinked.

He was serious.

“Right.”

For some reason, that made me nervous.

I cleared my throat.

“I need your help.”

He studied me for a moment.

“That’s a pretty bold thing to say to someone you just met.”

“I know.”

“And you still said it.”

“I don't have much of a choice.”

His expression remained unreadable.

“What do you need?”

I hesitated.

I hadn't expected the words to feel so difficult once I actually had to say them.

“I'm trying to get out of an arranged marriage.”

Something shifted in his eyes.

It disappeared so quickly that I wasn't sure I'd seen it.

“And you think I can help you?”

“Yes.”

“Why me?”

I glanced around.

“Because you look like you can handle yourself.”

His mouth twitched slightly.

“That's your reason?”

“Partly.”

“And the other part?”

I shrugged.

“You look like you have money.”

He stared at me.

I immediately felt embarrassed.

“That sounded better in my head.”

For the first time, I saw the faintest hint of amusement in his expression.

“Apparently.”

I sighed.

“Look, I know this is weird.”

“Very.”

“I just need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

I hesitated.

Then I forced the words out.

“I need someone to help me make my fiancé believe I'm not interested in marrying him.”

He was silent for a moment.

Then:

“No.”

I stared at him.

“That was fast.”

“I didn't need much time.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please.”

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then he held out his hand.

I stared at it.

Maybe that was his way of saying yes.

I looked back at him.

“Is that a yes?”

“Are you coming or not?”

I blinked.

“Coming where?”

He glanced toward the elevator.

I looked at his hand again.

Then, before I could convince myself this was a terrible idea, I placed my hand in his.

His fingers closed around mine.

He turned and led me toward the elevator.

The doors opened.

We stepped inside.

He pressed a button.

The doors began to close.