𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 | ✓

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩 𝟓

Despite not drinking much, I woke up with the most excruciating headache, which I partially blame on stress. I fully expect that my life will be hectic as it has been the last few days, so I must prepare myself somehow.

I don't know any future plans right now, —hell, I don't even have present plans — but I'm sure the exchange will be happening shortly. No doubt my father just wants this over with.

Holding my forehead as if it will ease the pain, I groan as I sit up from my bed. Being clueless to the time, I begin searching my bed for my phone, assuming I've fallen asleep with it. When I fail to find it, it takes me a minute or so to come to the realisation I must've left it downstairs last night.

I let out a whine before dragging myself off my bed and towards the door, the house seems quiet, which isn't out of the ordinary, as my mother is probably out at ladies' golf, and my father is in yet another meeting.

I've always had the house to myself, being the only child, with distracted parents. and it's not the hype people live it up to be.

I make my way down the stairs and swing myself around the thick oak banister, and head towards the last place I was with my phone. As I get closer, I can hear vague indecipherable mumbling coming from around the corner, and I find my father in the dining room with his phone to his ear.

My gaze is drawn to the table, where my phone lies. In attempt to keep quiet, I shift closer to the corner of the table and slide my phone into my palm before stepping back, but suddenly my father's attention turns to me and his eyes light up,

"Vivienne, don't forget we'll be attending an event with the Forbes tonight," he states, before quickly returning to his phone call, leaving me no time to ask questions.

Why do I have no recollection of these plans? Okay, maybe I did drink a little much last night. Sue me. The only thing that appears to keep me sane through this is to not think about it, and alcohol is the best thing to go for while trying to do that.

So I'll be drinking tonight.

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When I arrive at the event, there is nothing new or exciting about it; crowds of filthy rich people talking business and money, as if that's all they're good for.

While my parents attend these events religiously, I always manage to get out of them, but since I didn't have much of a choice tonight, here I am.

I stood next to Ryder, as we waited near the entrance to be shown to our reserved tables. The air was thick with the buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses, as the other guests mingled and laughed around us. My eyes were immediately drawn to him.

He stood tall and confident, dressed in a sleek Tom Ford satin-trim two-piece suit with a silver tie put with a pair of Salvatore Ferragamo Gancini Slip-On Loafers with a silver buckle, which coincidentally happened to match my outfit.

I opted for a Jacquemus Draped Midi Dress, which I paired with Saint Laurent Opyum Ankle-Strap pumps, and a Saint Laurent purse.

He hasn't said a word, nor looked in my direction, which I'm completely fine with. Neither of us are obligated to be happy with this situation, I'm more than happy to act as if he's not even there, and vice versa.

As we take our seats at the elegantly set tables, my first and only priority is to consume some alcohol. The clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversation fill the air as I eagerly await the arrival of the server.

Once a man approaches me in a white and black tuxedo with a bowtie, I order a flute of champagne, just to start off with. And with a deft hand, the server pours a generous portion of the golden-coloured liquid into my glass. I take a deep sip, relishing the smooth burn as it slides down my throat.

As the waiter turned to leave, Ryder's voice cut through the air, commanding attention. He ordered a whisky on the rocks, his words smooth and confident, his words ringing out over my shoulder. The parents were quick to follow suit and placed their own orders.

Conversations take place over several glasses of alcohol, and I believe I'm already on my fifth. My head sits in one hand and my glass swirls in the other, as I grow progressively more restless as I sit here doing absolutely nothing.

After a while, I get up from the table and head for the restroom. Once inside, I head for the brightly lit, full-length mirrors. When I look at myself in the mirror, I can't help but regret every choice I've made up to this point.

I'm ashamed of the reflection in the mirror because, no matter how much she tries to avoid it and act otherwise, she's weak. She'll always be weak. I find myself staring into my reflection, when an older lady suddenly walks into the bathroom.

I quickly snap back into reality and collect myself before heading back out, loud noises of talking and dish clinking fill my ears as I walk further and further back into the room, but instead of walking to my table, I walk the opposite way.

I sauntered over to the bar, my eyes scanning the array of bottles lining the shelves. "Double vodka," I request, my voice low and smooth, but just loud enough over the laughter and subtle music. The bartender nodded, his hands moving skilfully as he mixed my drink.

I needed a break from the endless chatter about business deals and wedding plans, but my peace was short-lived as a sudden tall figure appears beside me. A masculine scent of men's cologne and expensive liquor gives a hint to who it may be, and looking up, I'm met with a pair of piercing dark brown eyes.

I found my eyes wandering over his face, taking in every detail, his sharp jaw is peppered with a dark stubble, and his lips are rubbing together slightly.

"I'm not sure your father wouldn't appreciate your absence," he whispered into my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. I couldn't help but roll my eyes and look away,

He leaned in closer to me, his breath hot against my ear. "Nor the amount of alcohol you've consumed so far tonight," he whispered. With a swift motion, he snatched the glass from my grasp and downed it whole in one gulp. My eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he handed it back to me, leaving me utterly appalled.

I turn my head back to him, my eyes piercing into his with a fierce intensity. "What the fuck?" I spit, and a smirk plays about his mouth, and I know that my irritation is pleasing him, so I try to keep my composure.

"Nobody likes an alcoholic for a wife, you know." He teases. I'm getting fed up with his audacity, and I'm so close to completely leaving altogether. None of this seems worth it to me, it's all just a big headache.

"God, you're such a dick, didn't your mother teach you how to treat women?" I throw back, my words seem to have caused harm, because his smirk has dropped and it seems his entire mood has shifted.

His head drops and he suddenly starts digging in his pants pocket. His feelings were the least of my concerns, and I had no sympathy for the pain he was clearly feeling. He had brought this upon himself, after all. His arrogance and condescending attitude had finally caught up with him, and it was about time he was put in his place.

Just as I turn to walk away, bored of this horrible conversation, He suddenly grabs my hand and slides a diamond ring onto my left ring finger. And as much as I hate to admit it, it was the most gorgeous ring I'd ever seen, and I couldn't help but gape at it.

The thing had to be at least five carats, and the gold gleaming band that held it together just added to its beauty. I'm a fastidious girl when it comes to jewellery, so the fact that this man was able to sway me with it irritated me.

He was quick to drop my hand and walk away, leaving me staring down at this ring, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

That was the most I'd spent with my future husband, and let's just say it wasn't the most ideal experience. I definitely need more alcohol.

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AN/word count - 1488