The inherited vow

Chapter 9 : Alina

The elevator doors opened.

I stepped out slowly.

For some reason, my feet felt heavier than they had a few minutes ago.

Maybe it was because the music from the club was gone now. The noise, the people, Bella's voice, Irina's laughter—everything had disappeared behind us.

All I could hear was the quiet hum of the hotel hallway.

He walked ahead of me, completely unbothered.

I stared at his back.

How was he so calm?

I'd followed a complete stranger into a hotel.

A complete stranger.

And the possibility of getting murdered was rapidly increasing.

That thought suddenly felt much more important than it had downstairs.

“Wait.”

He stopped and looked back at me.

I stood there awkwardly.

“What?”

I hesitated.

“Nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You stopped me for nothing?”

“I just...” I glanced down the hallway. “This is the point where I'm supposed to realize this is a terrible idea, isn't it?”

“Probably.”

I stared at him.

“You could at least lie.”

“I could.”

“But you won't.”

“No,” he said dryly.

It wasn't like he'd forced me to come here. If he was a serial killer, then I'd practically handed myself to him.

I sighed.

“Great.”

He continued walking.

I followed.

We stopped in front of a large set of doors.

He unlocked one and pushed it open.

I stepped inside.

Then stopped.

“Oh.”

That was all I could manage.

The room was huge.

Not hotel-room huge.

More like someone had decided an entire apartment still wasn't enough space.

There was a sitting area, a dining table, a small bar, and floor-to-ceiling windows stretching across the far wall. The city lights glittered below us, making everything look almost unreal.

I slowly turned in a circle.

“This is a hotel room?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

He closed the door behind us.

“Yes.”

“It looks like a penthouse.”

“It is.”

I turned toward him.

“You just said it was a hotel room.”

“It is.”

I stared at him.

“You know you can actually answer someone normally, right?”

“I know.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“You're enjoying this.”

“A little.”

I shook my head.

“Rich people do stupid things.”

I repeated Bella's words under my breath, but apparently not quietly enough.

Semyon looked at me.

“You think I'm rich?”

I gestured around the room.

“I'm standing in a penthouse.”

“That doesn't answer the question.”

“It absolutely does.”

He gave me the smallest smile.

I caught it immediately

I walked toward the windows.

The view made me stop.

“Wow.”

He said nothing.

I pressed my fingertips lightly against the glass.

“I've never seen the city like this.”

“It's different at night.”

“Everything looks better at night.”

“Everything?”

I thought about someone chasing me with a knife in the dark.

“Almost everything.”

He didn't respond.

I glanced at him.

He was standing near the bar, watching me.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You do that a lot.”

“Do what?”

“Look at people like you're thinking something.”

“Maybe I am.”

“About?”

He looked away.

“Nothing important.”

I turned back toward the window.

“Fine.”

I took a breath.

“And I think you should know you can't harm me.”

He looked at me.

“My best friend knows I'm here. So if you're thinking about murdering me, kill the thought.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“You think I'm a murderer?” he asked, clearly amused.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. You look like one.”

He gave me a strange look.

“That's reassuring.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“You're tall, you're dressed like that, you have security following you around...”

I shrugged.

“Maybe I am a murderer.”

I stared at him.

“That isn't funny.”

“I wasn't joking.”

My eyes widened.

Then the corner of his mouth lifted.

“I have no intention of harming you.”

I exhaled.

“Good.”

I didn't know why, but I suddenly felt less nervous.

Maybe it was because he wasn't hovering.

He wasn't asking me what I wanted.

He wasn't trying to impress me.

He wasn't even talking much.

And strangely enough, I liked that.

Everyone around me talked.

My parents.

My siblings.

The guards.

Family friends.

Everyone always had something to say about what I should do, where I should go, who I should marry, how I should behave.

He just listened.

I didn't realize how much I'd missed that.

I turned around.

“Do you always talk this little?”

He looked at me.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Nothing worth saying.”

“That can't be true.”

“Why not?”

“Because everyone has something to say.”

“Not everyone needs to say it.”

I stared at him.

“Wow. That was actually wise.”

He didn't say anything.

I walked over to the sofa and sat down.

He took the chair opposite me.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

It wasn't awkward.

That surprised me.

Usually, silence made me uncomfortable.

With him, it didn't.

I looked around the room again.

“This is going to sound stupid.”

“It probably will.”

I looked at him.

“See? That's exactly what I mean.”

“What?”

“You don't even pretend to be nice.”

“I didn't say you were stupid.”

“You were about to.”

“I wasn't.”

“You were thinking it.”

He leaned back.

“You think too much.”

“I know.”

“You admit it?”

“Of course.”

I smiled.

“I'm actually very self-aware.”

“That's debatable.”

I laughed.

“Okay, you're definitely annoying.”

“And you're still here.”

“Unfortunately.”

He nodded.

I looked at him for a few seconds before sighing.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I think I needed this.”

His expression changed slightly.

“This?”

I gestured between us.

“Just... talking.”

He didn't interrupt.

So I continued.

“My family is exhausting.”

He stayed quiet.

“My parents aren't bad people.”

I looked down at my hands.

“That's what makes it worse.”

He waited.

I took a breath.

“They love me. I know they do. And I love them too.”

My voice softened.

“They make decisions for me because they think they know what's best. They tell me where I can go, who I can see, what I should wear, what I should say.”

I laughed quietly.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm living someone else's life.”

He finally spoke.

“And your engagement?”

I looked at him.

“That's part is the most annoying.”

I leaned back against the sofa.

“I don't even know the man.”

He didn't react.

I kept going.

“I've met him once.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

I shrugged.

“He was just... there.”

I smiled bitterly.

“And apparently that's enough for everyone to decide we're going to spend the rest of our lives together.”

He looked at me.

“Do you hate him?”

I thought about it.

“Honestly, I don't know.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't know him.”

I looked toward the windows.

“I can't hate someone I don't know.”

Then I laughed.

“Although I have tried.”

“Successfully?”

“Not really.”

He smiled faintly.

I pointed at him.

“Don't.”

“What?”

“Don't smile.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm trying to be serious.”

“I noticed.”

I laughed.

“See?”

“What?”

“You don't make everything serious.”

“I don't?”

“No.”

I thought for a moment.

“You're actually easy to talk to.”

He looked at me.

“Which is very surprising.”

“Very.”

“Why?”

“Because you looked terrifying downstairs.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Terrifying?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

I gestured vaguely.

“Tall. Suit. Security. You have this whole mysterious thing going on.”

“Mysterious?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don't.”

“Yes, you do.”

He looked amused.

I rolled my eyes.

“Whatever.”

I leaned back.

For a while, we talked about nothing important.

I told him about Bella.

I also told him about Irina

I paused and he was till listening.

I continued.

The conversation drifted to Lucian.

“Don't get me started.”

“Why?”

“He's annoying.”

“That's all?”

“No.”

I thought about it.

“He's protective.”

“Of you?”

“Unfortunately.”

I smiled.

“He acts like I'm twelve.”

“Maybe you behave like you're twelve.”

I stared at him.

“Excuse me?”

He shrugged.

“You've known me for what? An hour?”

“Less.”

“And you're already judging me?”

“Observing.”

“Same thing.”

“No.”

I shook my head.

“You're impossible.”

“You've said that too.”

“Because it's true.”

The conversation drifted from one thing to another.

Books.

Travel.

Food.

Things I liked.

Things I hated.

He didn't say much himself.

Whenever I asked something personal, he gave me just enough to satisfy the question without actually telling me anything useful.

“You're very secretive.”

“So you keep saying.”

“Because it's true.”

“Maybe I like privacy.”

“That's suspicious.”

“Not everything is suspicious.”

“With you, I'm starting to think it is.”

He looked at me.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I laughed.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked this much without feeling like I had to watch every word.

It felt strange.

Good.

Maybe too good.

I looked at the time.

Hours had passed.

I blinked.

“Wait.”

He looked at me.

“What?”

“How long have we been talking?”

“A while.”

I stared at my phone.

“You're kidding.”

“No.”

I laughed.

“I didn't even notice.”

“I did.”

I looked at him.

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn't say anything?”

“You seemed okay.”

Something about those words made me quiet.

I looked down.

Maybe that was exactly what I needed.

Someone who didn't rush me.

Someone who didn't try to fix everything.

Someone who just let me talk.

I smiled faintly.

“You're a good listener.”

“So I've been told.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Why?”

“Because you don't look like one.”

“What does a good listener look like?”

“I don't know. Calm, sweet, gentle.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Then how do you know I don't?”

I laughed.

“While you're calm, you're anything but sweet and gentle.”

He leaned back.

I looked at him for a moment.

Then something suddenly occurred to me.

I had been talking for hours.

And he still didn't know why I had actually brought him there.