Page 13 of Misguided Vows

We are not going down memory lane right now. He pushes off the counter, and I’m relieved as I look down at my camera and take my first photo of the space. I just want to hide and die behind my lens right now.

I don’t pay much attention to the others as they speak among themselves. I’m already too captivated by ideas. The space is massive, and the layout somewhat basic, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. I notice the fitting rooms are quite large, and there’s even a powder room.

This isn’t just any old lingerie store; this place sells an experience. And experiences are what I create best.

Back in the front of the shop, I notice the three of them standing and talking by the counter. They’re immaculately dressed and ooze with a type of wealth I’m not familiar with. But they’re all captivating in their own way. I raise my camera and take a photo for reference. You can tell a lot about an owner from the way they style and present themself, and I’m sure there are certain elements of Honey and Dawson I can put into this store.

Will’s gaze slides to me the moment I’ve taken the photo, and he grins as he says, “I’ve killed people for less.” I’m shocked because there’s something menacing about that statement. He’s saying it as a joke, but… Surely, he hasn’t actually killed anyone.

Why am I even thinking about that? I must be tired from the flight.

I turn away and continue taking photos when a man with a shaved head, wearing all black comes into the shop. A ripple of unease rolls through me as he enters. This man definitely looks the part of a killer. There’s something wild to his demeanor. Andit’s not at all surprising when Will bursts into excitement to see him, his English accent thickening.

“You bloody bastard! Missed me that much you had to make a visit? Couldn’t even help yourself.” He goes to throw his arm over the man’s shoulder, but the newcomer flings his arm away.

“Fuck off,” the man says with a slight accent. I think it’s Russian. “I’ve come to see Dawson. We have some business we need to discuss.”

Will whistles as if the meeting is foreboding.

“I didn’t expect you to come find me personally, Alek,” Dawson says with a charismatic smile that doesn’t reach his gaze. The tension is palpable, and the newcomer—Alek—doesn’t say anything further. I have the distinct impression he’s a man of few words.

“I’ve got everything I need now,” I announce, doing my best to leave this awkward tension. “When I get back to the hotel I’ll start putting some ideas together. Will tomorrow work for you if I send through a rough draft?” I ask Dawson.

“Oh, you only just flew in. You can take a few days. Please don’t rush,” Honey says with a bright smile, and Dawson agrees with her. I can’t help but smile back; it’s nice to see such a powerful man be what I dare say is “wrapped around his wife’s pinkie.”

“It’s fine, really. It’s why you flew me out.” I place my camera back in my bag. “I have your email, so I’ll send ideas through. Let me know if you have inspirations or ideas you’d like me to incorporate. And if you don’t like certain aspects of the concept, please let me know.”

“It’s all on you. We trust your judgment, so go with what you feel is best,” Dawson says as he places his hand on Honey’s lower back.

“What if you don’t like what I have in mind?” I ask, because I really want this job.

“Oh, I will. Honey has shown me quite a few of your videos, and I haven’t disliked any work you’ve done so far. We’re excited to see what you come up with.”

“Oh, and here’s my card.” Honey hands me a business card for what looks like a bakery. “If you’re in the area, stop by. And if you need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” I pocket the card. “Well, enjoy your afternoon, and I’ll send through some ideas shortly.”

I go to grab my bag but Will picks it up. My temple pulses as I grit my teeth and smile, not wanting to make a scene in front of his friends.Why is this fucker so persistent?

I walk out, and Will follows me.

CHAPTER 7

Will

“I’ll call you later, lover boy.” I wave to Alek who shoots me a death stare. I know he secretly loves me. He proved it that one time he shot me in the shoulder. I call it our love bite.

He calls it a fuck off bite.

Each to their own, but we all know I’m right.

Alina’s standing on the sidewalk with her arms crossed over her chest as she orders an Uber. Meanwhile, my car is sitting there, waiting.

“Let me drive you,” I insist as I stop beside her and place the suitcase between us.

“You have a driver, so it’s technically not you driving,” she retorts, not looking away from her phone.

“Okay, let my driver take you. We can get handsy in the car.” I wink at her.