London Miller Time Stood Still (Volkov Bratva #3.5)

Contents Title Page Copyright Dedication Blank Page Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten

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Copyright © 2014 London Miller All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. Cover Image Copyright © Valentin Valkov Used under license from Shutterstock

Mom, Thank you for the inspiration.

CHAPTER ONE “Just a little to the left…no, back to the right. Okay, just—” “Make up your damn mind!” Klaus snapped, the muscles of his arms straining since he was still holding the stuffed arm chair Lauren had bought for her new office. It was still wrapped in a protective layer of plastic, but instead of him letting the delivery men bring it in as they were prepared to do, he’d carried it, seemingly unbothered

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by the weight of it, at least until he had brought it into the office and she was trying to direct him where to put it. “You keep moving. You’re throwing me off.” “I’m about to kill you.” Smiling still, she waved for him to move the chair again. Despite his rather hostile demeanor, after getting to know him over the last few months, Lauren found that Klaus rarely meant half of the things he said…except to Mishca. While he might not have completely thawed, their relationship was significantly better. “Have you considered his proposal?” Klaus was silent for so long, she wondered if he would answer. It was a question that had been asked for a while now, mostly by Mishca, but once he had brought it up to her, she figured Klaus might be more willing to actually give her an answer.

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Since Mishca had relocated many of Mikhail’s men in the Bratva, there were a number of positions open that he wanted filled. Namely, who his underbosses were going to be. Surprisingly, the first person he was considering was Klaus, though there were still details that had to be worked out with the other Pakhans as far as his involvement was concerned. It wouldn’t be as though he was starting at the bottom and working his way up the ranks, but was immediately being offered a top-tier job…it also didn’t help that he had rather publicly vowed to kill Mishca. But Mishca didn’t care what they thought, and despite their recommendations, he had his own thoughts about what he wanted. “I’m a mercenary. I don’t do politics, and I for damn sure don’t want the Russian breathing down my neck.”

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Rolling her eyes, Lauren took a seat, running a hand through her hair as she pushed the strands back over her shoulder. “You would be a Captain, and besides, it’s not like you would let Mish boss you around.” He shrugged, pulling one of his knives free to cut through the plastic. “Look, I’m still thinking about it. We can’t act like the last five years never happened. There are still some people that need to answer for that.” “You two are exhausting. Why don’t the two of you just fight it out already, yell about how much you hate each other while you’re throwing punches. I feel like that would solve a lot of your problems.” A surprised laugh escaped him as he dropped down into the freshly unwrapped chair, folding his hands behind his head. “I’d kick that Russian’s ass.” “Not a chance. Mish could totally take you out.” “Wanna wager?”

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She nodded. “What do you want? But, I’ll only agree to this if you truly think about accepting his offer and stop stalling.” Dropping his booted feet down, he grinned at her. “I’ll do you one better. Once my current contract is up, I’ll go freelance while I give the position a shot, but only if he plays by my rules and agrees to my demands. I win, he pays me triple my current salary, and I decide what role I play. He wins—” “He wins and you have to start calling him by his actual name, and you give an effort in trying to mend your relationship with him. And even if you lose, you should do that anyway, let go of some of that anger you carry around.” It was clearly the right thing to bet on. His entire face scrunched up in horror. “That’ll never happen.” Glancing down at her watch, noting the time, Lauren grabbed her coat and purse. “Then don’t lose.”

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“Yea, whatever. Going to see the Russian?” The way he put emphasis on it made Lauren laugh. “Yep.” “I’ll give you a ride.” “I thought you had a job in the city.” He grimaced, looking very much like Mishca as he rubbed the back of his neck. Since Jetmir, Klaus had been acting weird about whatever new assignment he’d been given. He hadn’t shared any information about the actual job, only said that he had one—one of the reasons he had given as to why he hadn’t planned on accepting Mishca’s offer. “I forgot how fucking nosy you can be.” Out on the sidewalk, Lauren pulled on her coat. Klaus was ever the imposing sight, leading the way to his car. Lauren had only ridden in it once before, but even she knew it was impressive. Perhaps she should have bet on his car.

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*** Mishca It had taken two months for things to finally settle enough so that Mishca Volkov could take a step back from the dangerous world he lived in and take a breath. Since he had gotten married, he’d nearly been killed by a mercenary hired by his mother-in-law, targeted by the Albanian Organization that had once tortured and nearly killed his brother, Klaus. Not only that, but he had been brought up on RICO charges that had been dismissed nearly as quickly as they had come up. Though Special Agent Tabitha Green was no longer a problem, he knew that she wouldn’t be the only agent wanting to use him to make their career. Then, there was the new position he had taken as the Pakhan over the Volkov Bratva now that his father, Mikhail, had been excommunicated. It had been a calculated decision on his part, but one that needed to be

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done if only because he needed to make a statement to those that opposed him. It was rare that a Pakhan was forced from his seat—truthfully, it was unheard of—but with his track record, and the approval of the other Pakhans from the different organizations across the eastern seaboard, Mishca had it done. The ink of the cross—a symbol of his new position—had barely dried on his back before he’d had another placed on his chest, its rightful spot. Some of the others liked to remind him that he was far too young for the role, but with time, he was sure they would get over that assumption. Even still, he knew every move he made was being watched carefully. Now that he had this mark of power, Mishca was still in the process of changing the very structure of the organization he was head of. Unlike his father, he needed people he trusted to stand beside him, not just those that were eager to spill blood in the name of

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climbing the ranks—excluding Luka who killed just to do it and not to receive any recognition for it. And more importantly, he only wanted people whose loyalty was to him alone. Some of Mikhail’s men had already walked away once they learned of his current predicament—that had taken care of at least a third of them—but that brought problems of its own as well, mainly because he had less bodies to put onto his territories. This was why, even though he was unsure of why he’d come forth, Mishca had decided to take a meeting with Roman Pavlov, Viktor’s bastard son—a description that he, himself, chose to go by. Mishca had never particularly had a problem with him, but did make assumptions about his character based on his knowledge of Viktor and Roman’s mother, a woman that made Anya look tame. One thing he did know, however, Roman would be a good ally to have, if only until he betrayed him.

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Roman was a part of the Pavlov Bratva, one that he headed himself though he had less notoriety than what he probably preferred. This was why he had suggested a partnership, an alliance of sorts that would send a message to their perspective enemies. It would only help their businesses in the long run so Mishca had agreed. Now, they were moving on to the next stage. “What are you suggesting?” Roman asked, voice even now that he knew Mishca was going along with what he wanted. Mishca tapped his pen against the desk, meeting the eyes of the man that was family though he knew hardly anything about him. A little over half an hour ago, Roman had presented him with the business plan that he’d prepared. He could have done so without Mishca’s approval, so the fact that he was coming to him at all, told Mishca that

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Roman was planning to respect his role…at least for the moment. Opening a gambling parlor was tricky enough since it wasn’t legal by any means, but Roman’s concept was solid, and could very well be profitable for the both of them. “Green Hill won’t be easy,” Mishca responded. “The city is overrun with Colombians and Italians, but to my understanding, you already have a good working relationship with the Colombians, no?” Roman looked very much like his father, same cold, gray eyes, square jaw, and slightly tan skin, and now he wore the expression of a man that was not used to defeat. “I do, but even if I hadn’t, they wouldn’t be a problem.” “See it done. I’ll pay you a visit in a few weeks.” Nodding once, Roman stood, buttoning the front of his jacket, reaching to shake

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Mishca’s hand as he stood after him. “Give my regards to the missus.” “Will do.” As Roman was leaving, Mishca could hear voices out in the hallway, and already could feel the headache that those two were going to bring him before they even cleared his doorway. Sure enough—as they always were it seemed—Alex and Luka came bursting through the door, whatever argument they’d been having tapering off to meaningful glares. “What is it?” Mishca asked, aimed more towards Luka than to Alex. Before Luka respond to his inquiry, Alex asked, “Why was Roman here?” Mishca knew that their parentage was still a sore subject for her, and seeing Roman was probably a reminder of that. “Business.”

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He didn’t elaborate and wouldn’t even if he wanted to. She was fine, Mishca knew, though he did wonder how the trials of what she had been through still fared on her. Alex met his eyes for a lengthy moment, shrugged, then walked over to the couch on the other side of his office. “Anyway, I came here to tell you what a shitty husband you are.” Smirking, Luka went and took the seat Roman had just vacated, propping his muddy boots up on the table. Some days—on days very much like this one—Mishca still didn’t know why he kept Luka around. Not too long ago, when Luka had made a call that Mishca hadn’t readily agreed with, he had reacted badly and as a result, Luka broke Mishca’ finger. It had initially pissed him off to the point that he had seriously considered demoting the enforcer, but he’d eventually gotten over it. And despite his rather eclectic personality—and a past he

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knew nothing about—he trusted Luka implicitly. Contemplating pushing Luka’s feet off the table, Mishca knew there was no point since Luka would just put them back. Since he wasn’t going to like wherever this conversation was heading, Mishca tossed his pen down, counting backwards from ten in his head. “What are you going on about, Aleksandra?” “I’m just saying. If I were married to you, your ass would have been divorced two weeks in.” Luka, the idiot, cleared his throat, raising his hand in the air as though they were in school and he needed permission to speak. Exasperated, Mishca pointed to him. “She has a point.” That was it. That was all he said. His hand twitching with the urge to do violence, Mishca looked over at Alex, hoping

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she would add something meaningful to this conversation before he ended it entirely. “Let’s review the facts. Viktor killed her father, tried to kill her and then Ross years later—oh and that cunt you used to stick your dick in—” Mishca cut her off to ask, “When did you become so crude?” She pointed to Luka, who of course, pointed to himself. “Perhaps I need to reassign him.” Mishca had initially believed, partly because Lauren suggested it, that Luka and Alex would be good together because she was more willing to open up to the enforcer than she was to Mishca, but he also didn’t miss the fact that his sister had had a crush on Luka since he had begun working for him. He hadn’t read too much into this only because Luka hadn’t seemed receptive—and his still frequent visits to the Gilded Room—but

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that didn’t mean he knew the enforcer’s true feelings. “If you’re worried that he’s sticking his dick in me, no worries. He’ not.” Even Luka glared at her this time. Ignoring Mishca entirely, she returned that glare. “What? It’s the truth.” Back to Mishca. “Anyway, as I was saying. The chick you slept with came waltzing back, tried to have her killed by crazy ass Albanians—no offense there, Tiger.” Luka smirked, but didn’t offer a response. “Oh, and let’s not forget my mother hired a mercenary to take her out. I mean, if I was her, I’d think I’d married into the worst family ever.” “And you had the nerve to get shot on her wedding day,” Luka added looking reproachful. Mishca didn’t respond to this. He didn’t admit that he had thought of all this before. Even worse, though they didn’t mention it,

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Lauren had planned a trip for them after the wedding for their honeymoon, but the chaos that had ensued following the day had prevented them from going. She had never spoken about it, but while he was still recovering, she’d been the one that had had to cancel all of their reservations. Though she would never voice how that hurt her, he knew it did. “What do you suggest then?” Mishca asked candidly, willing to listen to Alex’s recommendation. If there was one thing he could say about her, she believed in true love and grand acts of affection. “Don’t go to Brazil,” Luka said with a laugh. “The last time you took her there, you were busy getting off with the crazy bitch that got her kidnapped. Word of advice, never go back to that fucking country. Fucking memory is a bitch. It lingers.” “I am dangerously close to throwing you out,” Mishca warned.

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Giving him a look of mock hurt, Luka said, “And I am dangerously close to not giving a single shit. Not. One.” “What he means is,” Alex said jumping in, “you should something really special for her. You know, a thanks-for-sticking-by-methough-I-bled-all-over-your-wedding-dress kind of thing. Isn’t Susan and Ross getting married this weekend? That’s a start.” “Wait.” Luka held his hand up, looking over at Alex. “Michigan? You want them to go to Michigan for a honeymoon? It’s boring as fuck there. What are they going to do, fish?” Rolling her eyes, Alex said, “I didn’t mean for them to stay there for the honeymoon, but wait until they’re there for her to surprise her with the honeymoon. I’m sure you wouldn’t know anything about surprises since the only affection you know how to give is leaving money on the bedside table for your—”

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Luka lost his easy smile, his gaze turning cold. “Don’t call her that.” It was like watching two opposing forces come together. Alex climbed to her feet, bending down in front of Luka, her face inches from his. She had always been bold, refusing to back down from anything, but Luka was just as stubborn, and the two of them together promised trouble. “Or. What?” She asked, not flinching away from the hostility that was bleeding out of him now. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he slowly moved to his feet, his teeth grinding together, restraining himself if only for Mishca’s sake. “You’re acting like a damn child.” A dangerous light entered her eyes as she stabbed a finger against his chest, not caring that the enforcer was nearly twice her size. “That’s what I am, remember? Can’t have it both ways, Luka.”

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Luka opened his mouth to respond, but Mishca spoke up first. “Enough.” Normally, their bantering was entertaining—as long as he wasn’t in the middle of it—but there was clearly something Mishca had missed about their relationship since he had last been in a room with the pair of them. On the surface, it just looked like there was normal animosity there, but Mishca could remember what he felt when he argued with Lauren, and seeing this…he could imagine that this was what he looked like. “Aleksandra, I need a minute. Wait out at the bar and when Luka is done here, he will take you home.” Surprisingly, she left without further argument, snatching up her purse on her way out, making it a point to slam the door behind her. While Mishca was staring at Luka, Luka was focused on the door with a look that said he was only a second away from going after her.

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“What was that?” Mishca asked folding his arms across his chest. “What was what?” “Don’t play dumb with me. With Alex, that arguing, what was it?” Luka shrugged, finally turning so that he was facing Mishca, though his face was wiped clean of any emotion. “Friendly disagreement.” “What you do with those girls at the rooms, I couldn’t give a shit about. My sister is not one of them. I ordered you to watch her, make sure she doesn’t do anything reckless as she’s prone to do. The dark shit that you’re into, do it on your own time. You’re not what Alex needs.” Luka didn’t make a joke, nor did he make any playful remark to Mishca’s words. The person he was seeing now reminded Mishca of the one that broke his finger. “I’m not good enough for your sister, got it. We done here, Boss?”

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That wasn’t actually what Mishca had meant, but it didn’t look like Luka would believe him even if he explained that. Looking up at the set of monitors mounted to the wall behind Luka, Mishca saw Lauren—and Klaus?—coming through the entrance. “You—” “We done?” Deciding it was best to let him go, Mishca nodded. Before he was out the door though, Lauren and Klaus entered. Her smile was big and warm, as it always was, at least until she looked between Luka and Mishca. “What’s happened?” Luka, at least for her sake, tried to wipe away the tension on his face, giving her a smile as he mussed her hair, though he didn’t offer a response. Even if he was upset with Mishca, he wasn’t going to take it out on her. “All’s good.”

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He opened his arms to Klaus next who scowled and took a step back. “Touch me and—” “How many times have you threatened to kill me already?” Luka asked, and that playful tone to his voice was back as he forced his arms around the mercenary. In a stage-whisper, Luka asked, “Can you feel it, Red?” Klaus grumbled something beneath his breath as Luka rested his head on his shoulder. “Get the fuck off of me.” “I feel a bromance coming on.” “I thought you two didn’t like each other,” Lauren said with a frown. “You said Klaus was a bully and he was the reason your face was so beat up a couple of weeks ago.” Apparently, Luka had disappeared for a night and when he returned the following morning, he’d had a black eye, a bruised face, and bloody knuckles. By the time they saw Klaus again, his hands were mostly healed, but didn’t deny that he and Luka had

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gotten into an altercation though neither was willing to confess as to why it happened. “He was a bit resistant, but he’s come around. Right, Red?” Klaus looked to the ceiling as though it might be able to provide him with an escape. “Sure. Now, get the hell off me.” Luka did, finally, let him go, but he kept one arm slung around his shoulders. “Red will walk me out.” They left with very little fuss, leaving Lauren shaking her head in their wake. Mishca went back to his desk, picking up the pen he’d thrown down earlier. “How was your meeting with Roman?” She asked, coming around his desk, mindful of the papers there before she sat on it. “He’ll more than likely move on it within the week.” She was silent after his response, prompting him to look up at her. Reaching out to him, she twined her fingers with his,

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pulling him to his feet, spreading her legs slightly to bring him closer. “I missed you today.” She kissed the underside of his jaw, his own arms going around her to pull her flush against him. Mishca tilted her face up, intending to only kiss her briefly, but as his lips touched hers, he delved deeper, wanting the contact. His hand slid down her spin, spanning over the curve of her hip, resting there. In this moment, he enjoyed being lost in her because he finally had her exactly where he wanted her without interference. …At least until his phone rang. Sighing, he pulled away, just far enough that he could get his phone from his pocket, checking to see who was calling. He looked to Lauren. “Need to take that?” “I’ll only be a minute.”

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Kissing his cheek, she hopped down from his desk, smoothing the front of her dress. “Take your time.” *** Since it was still early, and Mishca wouldn’t be needed back at the club until later that night, Lauren ordered takeout from one of their favorite restaurants, waiting for Mishca out at the bar. Luka and Alex were already gone from what she could see, leaving only the bartenders and a number of the bottle girls preparing for the night. Not only them, but there were a few of Mishca’s new security trying to look unassuming as they stood near majority of the entrances. It was turning out to be a rather unassuming night, at least until there was a commotion near the entrance. Lauren spun around, trying to see what it was all about, but couldn’t see through the crowd forming.

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Sliding off the barstool she’d been perched on for the last ten minutes or so, Lauren headed in that direction, a figure immediately appearing in her peripheral. She knew, without having to look, that it was probably Alik. He was new and older than Lauren—probably around Mishca’s age—and worked for Roman. Only when Luka was preoccupied, and he happened to be in the area did he stay around Lauren for any length of time. Unlike most of the others that Lauren had come across, Alik didn’t have the Russian accent. In fact, he sounded like he was born and raised in the heart of Brooklyn. She couldn’t explain it, but he reminded her of Luka. Maybe it was the blond hair, or the way an air of menace seemed to surround him—or just the fact that while the others made a point to dress impeccably, he and Luka were the only two in street clothes. Except, while Luka had a long mane of

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curling hair, he had nothing on Alik’s. He always kept his hair out of his face, pulled back into a man bun that worked for him. Alik seemed nice enough, though he didn’t talk much, and seemed to have a rather quiet intensity about him. “Shouldn’t you be letting them handle this?” He asked casually, still trailing her. Lauren didn’t see Roman in the near vicinity, so she wasn’t quite sure why he was still there. “I’m sure you’ve already sent Mishca a message or something by now,” she said with a small smile. He shrugged because they both knew she was right. “Can you at least let me handle it? Your Boss wouldn’t like anything happening to you, right?” And that was another peculiar thing about him. He either referred to Mishca by name, but when he was talking to her, he always referred to Mishca as “her Boss.” “Of course.”

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When they got closer, it was much easier for them to get to the front since the crowd parted easily for her. A man with a face reddened by anger, his hands in fists, tendons sticking out in his arms, looked like he was ready to shove through the bouncers. Placing a hand on Steven’s shoulder as a silent stand down, Lauren smiled pleasantly, not deterred by the man’s anger. “Can I help you?” “Who the fuck are you?” There was something particularly unthreatening by someone she knew wasn’t a part of the life she was now involved in. Was it still dangerous? Yes, but this man, whoever he was, had nothing on some of the few individuals she knew personally. Seeming to not really care about the question he’d just asked, he went on. “Where is Christina?” In just seconds, Lauren looked him over, assessing his mental state. His eyes were

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dilated, sweat beading at his brow, and considering the fact that he’d wiped his nose at least five times since she came upon him, he was more than likely high on something. “Hold on.” Lauren made a show of looking around, not truly expecting to find someone by that name, but towards the back of the crowd, she saw a girl partially concealed by a number of people that were too busy observing the man to notice her. The fear in her eyes was clear and even clearer was the fact that she was the girl that he was looking for. “Considering I know everyone here by name, I can assure you there is no Stephanie here. If there is anything else…” Wiping his brow with his shirt sleeve, he shook his head hard. “I saw that bitch run in here.” He made the mistake of taking a step forward, like he meant to move Lauren out of

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the way, Alik had his hand against the man’s chest, shoving him back a few inches. Shoving Alik back too—who barely moved an inch—the man was clearly in the mood for a fight, even if he now had to fight someone of the same strength. Alik, who who was definitely reminding her of Luka as he readied for a fight, was ready to launch himself at the man until two things happened. One, Lauren ordered him not to, if only because bailing him out for attacking a civilian would take a lot of time and unneeded attention—though if they were being honest, he really didn’t have to listen to her. Second, Mishca and Roman were right behind her, both formidable in their own way, and if she were on the other end of that untapped rage, she would definitely be afraid. Mishca’s hand went to the small of her back first, his way of telling her that he was handling it now. “Poyti—Go.”

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Even though she knew of what he did and how he did it, he still didn’t like for her to see it. Turning on her heel, Lauren headed back towards the bar, but stopped, whispering to Alik, “That girl in the corner, that’s who he’s looking for.” She gestured with a tilt of her head, and as he scanned the crowd for who she indicated, nodding once. Not waiting for him, she went back to her seat, glad for the cover that the crowd was providing though it was clearing up now that Mishca had taken the belligerent man from the entryway. Since the shooting—a night they would never forget—he was careful to keep the clubs as clean as possible, so however he had gotten this situation taken care of, Lauren probably didn’t think she wanted to know. When Alik came over with the girl, tapped the bar with his hand before making

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himself scarce. She stood there stiffly, her arms folded across her chest, continuously looking over her shoulder. “You’re safe for the moment. Christina, yes?” Almost reluctantly, she nodded. “I’m sorry about this, I—” “Oh, don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault. Not at all. Can I get you something?” She shook her head vehemently, her shoulder length purple hair swaying. “No, thanks. A friend of mine is picking me up. The big guy at the door told me I could sit until she got here. My bags are still over there.” Lauren couldn’t imagine that kind of struggle having only one real boyfriend who happened to now be her husband. Without Stephanie having to say anything, as she rubbed her hands over her arms, the hem of her shirt rose just slightly, displaying dark

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bruises. She could only imagine what the rest of her looked like. “Thank you,” she whispered, peeking up at Lauren. “For not—” “Please don’t thank me for that. Anybody would have done it. But will you be alright at your friend’s? Can he find you there?” Lauren kind of felt like she was invading the girl’s privacy, but she wanted to help in any way she could. “I don’t think so, but I don’t have a lot of options, ya know? She’s letting me crash until I can find a job and—” “Have you ever been a server?” “Huh?” “Server, like have you ever served drinks?” She looked confused, but nodded. “Most of my undergrad, yes, but—” “We’ve got an opening.” Her mouth dropped open, and was about to snap shut again when Mishca came back

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up, his hand sliding beneath the fall of Lauren’s hair, his thumb sweeping over the nape of her neck. He tended to have that reaction on most women. But she didn’t count on Roman being with him. Tearing her eyes from him and looking back to Lauren, she still shook her head. “That’s nice of you, but—” “Mish, this is Stephanie. I offered her one of the bottle girl positions.” He looked between her and the girl, then said something to Roman in Russian, who didn’t look pleased by whatever he was told. He said no, but ultimately relented, finally agreeing to whatever Mishca had asked of him. Roman grabbed a napkin from the set on the bar top, pulling out a pen to scribble something down. “What’s your name?” “Uh, Christina?” “Full name.”

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Clearly Roman only had two moods. Intense and really intense. He hadn’t even looked at the girl since he walked up. “Christina Montana.” He handed her that napkin. “Go that address next week Tuesday. Tell them Roman Pavlov sent you and they’ll take care of you. Understand?” She could do no more than nod, her eyes skirting over each of them, probably trying to work out who the hell they thought they were, but upon seeing Lauren’s reassuring smile, she nodded once. “You’ll be safe here for the time being.” Mishca looked to Lauren. “Ready?” “Yea.” As they were walking out, Christina called to them, “Thank you.” When they were some distance away, Mishca was shaking his head, a smile on his lips. “I can never leave you alone, can I? Not even for a few minutes.”

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“I don’t know what you mean, Mish. I’m just accepting the role you gave me.”

CHAPTER TWO Lauren was up before Mishca, the sound of banging pans in the kitchen having woke him. Picking up his Blackberry, he scanned through the few messages he had, rolling his eyes to the one from Luka that asked, ‘What are you wearing?’ He briefly wondered why she was up so early—in the kitchen nonetheless—but since he was alone for the time being, he went ahead and altered their plane

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tickets, having already made the reservations for their hotel stay the night before. Leaving his phone on the bedside table, he headed into the bathroom, relieving himself before washing his face, his thoughts already drifting to what he would need to get done before they left the state. The process went by surprisingly fast, especially since it was so last minute, but while he didn’t always rely on it, sometimes it was a bonus to have his last name. Walking out of the bedroom, Mishca could only see Lauren’s back as she stood in front of the stove, her arms moving though he couldn’t see what she was making. Taking a seat at the bar, he watched her for a while, a small, contented smiled spreading over his face. He never expected it, couldn’t say he actually wanted it, but now that he had it, he cherished it. Normality…or at least the closest to it that he would ever get. Since the time he’d

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become an integral part of the Bratva, he never expected to have a wife, or even to care enough about another person to make that kind of commitment. But here she stood, through the chaos that was his life, and he couldn’t imagine his life without her. “What are you making?” She startled, jumping slightly before glaring at him over her shoulder, spatula in hand. She turned back after a few seconds, she turned back, carefully flipping—an omelette if he had to guess—the mixture in the skillet. “Breakfast for you, obviously. Even when I purposefully get up two hours early, you’re still up at the crack of dawn before I can finish.” He smirked. “You’ve been up for two hours?” She made a noise, not outright answering his question, her eyes skirting over to the

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trashcan in the corner. He didn’t doubt that if he looked, there would be a few failed attempts at her eggs. Reaching into one of the nearby cabinets, she removed a plate, setting it on the counter. As she went about plating the food—only for him it seemed—grabbing the silverware, he wondered why she was going through this much trouble. It was no secret that she wasn’t very good in a kitchen—not that he cared much about that—but he had to wonder about her motives now. Placing the plate in front of him, she continued standing, smiling proudly as she gestured with a tilt of her head for him to eat. Though Mishca picked up his knife and fork, he made no move to actually cut into the omelette. Truthfully, he was working up the nerve to do so.

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“I do love you,” he tried instead, glancing back down at her offering. “But I’m not sure about this.” She didn’t look disappointed by his statement, just laughed instead. “It’s not like I poisoned you, Mish. Swear. I even got lessons.” As she talked, he did finally cut off a small piece, spearing it with his fork. “Oh? You never told me about this.” It was almost to his mouth when she answered. “Yea…well, it was with Luka.” This time, he put the fork down and pushed the plate away. She shook with laughter, trying to explain. “You’d be surprised. Luka’s actually a great cook.” “I have no viable proof of that.” “But you trust me and that should be enough.” He tried to keep the look of disdain off his face, but he didn’t know if he was

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successful as she pushed the plate back towards him. As he finally took his first bite, he figured there were worst ways to go out. “There’s a few things I need to talk to you about while you’re here.” “Is that why you’re buttering me up?” He asked, chewing slowly, surprised that he actually liked it. With a satisfied smile, she turned her back, grabbing a rather large-sized envelope. “I’ll refrain from saying I told you so.” With a shrug and a point of his fork to what she was holding, he asked, “What is that?” She lost her smile, anxiety replacing the happiness in her eyes. Placing it face up between them, he read the letterhead. University of New York: School of Medicine. Had it been that long ago that she had applied? After her initial application, she’d gone for two separate interviews, and now tis envelope held their final decision.

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He’d only placed his hand on it when she grabbed hold of his hand with both of hers, preventing him from moving it. “What if I wasn’t accepted?” “Lauren—” “I mean, my grades were good, right? I thought the interviews went well, but you never know.” “Lauren. You’ll never know until you open it.” Nodding, she pulled her hand away, but didn’t try to take the envelope from him. She looked so apprehensive that he didn’t bother asking her if she was ready just picked it up and tore it open, dumping out the documents inside. “Blink once for yes, twice for no.” Trying not to smile at her, his eyes skirted over the first few lines, already knowing the answer as soon as he read them. Her entire face fell as she waited for him to answer, but when he smiled, winking at her as he slid the

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papers in her direction, she lit up, snatching them up as she scanned them for herself, spinning in a circle. “One step closer then, yes?” She came around to his side, still grinning. “Absolutely. I’m one step closer to becoming your mob doctor once I graduate.” Mishca glared at her even as she laughed. “I fail to see how that’s funny.” “That’s because you have a very dry sense of humor. Luka would have laughed.” Rolling his eyes, he went back to his breakfast. “That’s because he’s an idiot. What else did you need to talk to me about?” Now, as she tucked her hair behind her ear, breaking eye contact with him, he knew it was something that nothing to do with her school. “Remember how you were thinking of bringing Klaus in? Well, I kind of asked him about it yesterday… ” “We talked about this, Lauren.”

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“I know, I know. “I’ll keep you apprised of the decisions I make, but you will not get involved.’” Though he wanted to be upset with her, the way she spoke with a terrible Russian accent lessened some of that frustration. “Exactly.” “But I got him to agree.” “And…” “And?” “Knowing Niklaus, he probably had conditions.” She rubbed the back of her neck, glancing away. “Maybe a few.” Of course. “Name them.” “He wants to fight.” His eyebrows bunched together as he turned her to face him. “I don’t understand.” “You. He wants to fight you. If he wins, you pay him three times his current rate, but if you win, he’ll start calling you by your name and work towards mending his

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relationship with you, but regardless of the outcome, he does plan on working with you.” “Do you know what his current rate is?” Mishca asked dryly, knowing that she more than likely didn’t, otherwise she might not have agreed to his terms. She winced. “I’m assuming a pretty big number?” He laughed without humor. “You’ve no idea.” He went on before her face well. “—But thank you for your help, though I think this should be your last barter with a mercenary.” “Did I mess up your plans?” Even if she had, he wouldn’t tell her that, not when it came to Klaus. Though he didn’t want her interfering with him either, Mishca knew that when it came to others, she wouldn’t approach them without coming to him first.

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“Of course not. You might have done me a favor. Knowing Niklaus, he would have never agreed if not for you.” She frowned at that as she followed him back into their bedroom, making a stop in the closet for him to get dressed. “But there was no guarantee that he would have said yes just because I asked. He likes me just as much as he likes you.” “Difference is,” Mishca started, buttoning the front of his shirt, reaching for a black tie once he finished, “you remind him of Sarah. I still remind him of someone he hates.” She was quiet as he finished getting dressed. When she was still silent once he shrugged on his jacket he faced her. “You knew I would ask him about it, didn’t you?” Her eyes were narrowed on him, and despite the fact that he knew she would be upset by his admission, he elected to tell the truth. “Yes.”

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Her arms went across her chest. “So you exploited a weakness of his to get what you wanted?” “Not in so many words.” Throwing her hands up, Lauren scoffed. “If you’re supposed to be mending bridges, or whatever the hell it is you two are doing, shouldn’t you be more honest? I’m just going to assume, if Klaus is anything like you, you would hate if someone did that to you.” Lauren batted his hands away as he tried to knot his tie, finishing it for him and smoothing it into place. After she finished, she smoother her hands over his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. “True, but you have to understand that you are a vulnerability of mine, and while I have no regrets about us, the only way I sleep at night is knowing that you’re safe. I will do anything to make sure you stay that way, understand?”

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The tension drained out of her, even as she shook her head ruefully. “I know, Mish.” He brought her hand up, pressing his lips to her knuckles for several seconds before moving his kiss to her lips, taking his time, savoring the moment, making sure he conveyed exactly how he felt. “Besides, he went on after pulling away. “He’ll probably thank me since this move will make him more local.” Frowning, she asked, “Why does that matter?” “The girl. Reagan.” “Jesus, Mish. Should I even ask how you know about someone he might be talking to?” “Whatever happens in this city, I will more than likely know about.” Shaking her head, she kissed his cheek. “You’ll be careful today, won’t you?” “Of course.” “Come home to me, Mish.”

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Those words were as much a part of their routine as her fixing his tie, but no matter how often it happened, he was grateful to hear them. “I always will.” He gave her another quick kiss. “Thank you for breakfast.” “Of course. Maybe you’ll let me cook for you more often?” He smiled, heading for the elevator. “Yes, maybe.” *** Since Mishca would be gone most of the day, Lauren had some time to kill before she was meant to go out shopping with Alex and Amber for something to wear for Susan’s wedding. It had been a while since she had last seen her friend, and definitely wanted to catch up, but she was more worried about Alex and not just because of what happened the day before. Usually, Alex came around a lot, if only just to hang out, but since the

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trial, Lauren could count on one hand the number of times Alex had been by. And most of those times were only because Luka was there too. Lauren hoped to at least talk to her, see whether there was anything she could do to help—though she doubted there would be since what she assumed was bothering her, Lauren wouldn’t be able to help anyway—but she did want to gauge whether or not Mishca should talk to her. Lauren knew what it was like to let wounds fester, and she didn’t want that for Alex. Washing the dishes Mishca had used, Lauren straightened back up the kitchen, going to take a shower next. By the time she finished, and was dressed, she was no longer alone in the apartment. Since you couldn’t actually reach the penthouse without a special key, she knew it was Alex—or even Luka since they both owned a key.

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Amber was out there too, Lauren noticed when she came out of the room, but there was a noticeable tension between Luka and Alex who were sitting on opposite ends of the couch. The farther in she walked, the more curious she felt. “Everything okay?” Amber glanced back at her, eyes wide, and it was easy enough for Lauren to read the question she didn’t ask aloud. What the hell was up with them? Her eyes shielded by a pair of mirrored sunglasses, Alex put on a tight smile, nodding once, turning back to the phone she’d been typing on. Luka, who shoved a hand through his damp hair, glared over at her, mumbling something beneath his breath. Turning his attention from her, he smiled over at Amber. “I think I left a shirt at your place back—” “Why were you at her place?”

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Amber, obviously reaching her own conclusion as to why they were acting weird around each other, tried to explain. “It wasn’t—” “At least I could understand why you’d sleep with her, unlike that—” “Poshyol ty’—Fuck off.” Lauren, moving to sit beside Amber, blinked when she heard the curse. She didn’t think she had ever heard Luka curse at Alex that way. Canting her head to the side, a smile growing, Alex asked, “Sensitive about your whore, Luka?” “Who I fuck doesn’t concern you.” “Likewise.” If Lauren had to guess, he looked like he was on the verge of hurting her, but before it could escalate to that point, she butted in. “I thought you were with Mish today?” He glanced at Lauren, his expression unreadable, before his eyes cut back to Alex,

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that fire reentering them. “Long fucking story. I’ll get the car.” He was on his feet, heading out without a backwards glance. Alex headed towards the hall bathroom in the opposite direction. As the elevator chimed for Luka, the bathroom door slammed. “Soo…does this happen often?” Amber asked. “Normally, it’s a lot more civil. They kind of have a…thing.” Laughing softly, she shook her head. “Yea, I can see that. Are all your Russians this intense? I may have to rethink my policy on not dating guys that are involved in illegal things.” “If you mean territorial, then yea, maybe, though I can’t really say for sure about anyone besides Mish and Luka. Alik seems pretty cool, reminds me of Luka a little bit if you like the whole blonde thing.” “No, I was—”

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“Or Klaus.” Whatever protest she’d been about to say before Lauren interrupted her was forgotten as her face scrunched up. “First of all, gross. That would be like dating Mish, and while he’s nice to look at and all, just…no. Second, I don’t want the evil twin. He scares me.” It had actually been by chance that Amber even met Klaus. She’d come over one day, just to hang out since she had an off day from the gallery she worked at. While Lauren and Mishca had been running late, Klaus decided to break into their place—a hobby of his he’d said—and chill until they arrived. Amber, thinking it was Mishca of course, had immediately launched into a conversation with him, not realizing that he’d had no idea what she was talking about, or even who she was for that matter. Once they did arrive, however, her reaction had been priceless.

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Lauren shrugged. “That’s a no on Alik and Klaus. Luka, though he’ll never admit it, has his thing with Alex—” “Not to mention she’d probably shank me if I ever made a move on him.” “Oh!” Lauren said with a snap of her fingers, suddenly remembering. “Klaus has a friend. Irish, I think, and his name is—” “Are you trying to set me up?” Amber asked cutting her off. Laughing, she put her hands up. “Just giving you some more options should you choose to jump back out there.” Ever since her breakup with her boyfriend, Rob, who she’d dated for longer than Lauren had even known her, Amber had remained single though Rob was happily living his life with her cousin of all people. Not that Lauren was an expert or anything, but she thought it was long overdue for Amber to let Rob go and move on.

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“No offense to evil twin, or his friend, but the idea of dating a mercenary freaks me out. Didn’t you tell me they have more enemies than even your husband? Yea, no thanks. Now, if we’re done talking about my nonexistent love life, we should get going so we can shop for your trip.” By the time Alex came back out of the bathroom and they were all in the car heading into the city towards the boutique Lauren favored, the mood had considerably lightened though it was pretty clear that Luka and Alex were now ignoring each other. They arrived at the shop, Luka going off to park when Lauren’s phone rang. Almost at the same time as Amber’s phone chimed. “Hey Mom,” Lauren said cheerfully once she answered. “Hi darling, how are you?” Smiling, she followed Amber and Alex into the store. “Good as always, shopping for a dress for your big day.”

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At that, Susan’s voice softened. “I’m glad you guys can make it.” “Of course. Mish made sure we wouldn’t.” The interesting thing was, Susan hadn’t wanted to ask out of consideration for Mishca, knowing what and who he was, and that it may have made it difficult for them to go—especially since he wasn’t going to let her fly alone. It only took one phone call from Ross with a single command— “Get your ass here.” —that Mishca had made the reservations. No matter how gruff Ross was with Mishca, he never took offense. It was just one of the perks of being married, Mishca had said. “How long are you staying? I feel like I haven’t seen you.” It had felt that way. “At least a couple of days, but I have so much to tell you about when I get there.”

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“Good, I can’t wait to hear it. Well, I was just calling to check in. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” “Okay. Love you, Mom, and tell Ross I love him too.” “I love you too and will do.” Amber and Alex were already lost amongst the sea of people in the store. Since Luka wasn’t far behind her, Lauren just waited for him. “Do you want my honest opinion?” Lauren asked since they were alone for the time being. “No.” Deciding that she would tell him anyway despite his somber mood, she kept on. “I don’t think Mish would actually kill you if you had a thing with a particular someone that’s close to him.” “Leave it alone, Lauren.” “I’m just saying—”

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“Jesus fucking Christ. Leave it alone. If I wanted your advice, I would have asked for it. Stop trying to ‘fix’ shit when you should be worried about yourself.” Six months ago, she might have started tearing up at that, but now she just looked over at Luka. “Won’t happen again.” Turning away from him, Lauren headed towards the shoes department, knowing that was more than likely where she would find them. Luka was right in some regards, she was trying to ‘fix’ whatever it was between him and Alex. She wanted them to be happy, as happy as she was with Mishca, but it was pretty clear from his attitude that whatever was broken between them, they’d have to fix it themselves. Sure enough, Alex and Amber were busy trying on shoes when Lauren walked up. Forcing a smile, Lauren did what she came to do, and by the end of the day, there was more than one person ignoring the enforcer.

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*** After meeting with Roman in Green Hill to finalize his plans for the parlor, Mishca still had a long day of driving around the neighboring boroughs, checking in on his men and the work that needed to be done. Business was far from perfect and it would be a while before it even got close, but he could say that things were far better than even he had anticipated. Even the men he answered to were impressed, and that was a hard thing to accomplish. It didn’t hurt, however, that he was fair with the men under him. It became pretty clear that the better work you did—that didn’t include enforcing his rules—the more likely you were to receive a bonus. Money was always a great motivator. Hundreds of men answered to him now that he was at the top, and that didn’t include the number of workers he had at his

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clubs, and yet, there was only one person he was desperately close to strangling. Mishca stood behind the chair in his office and could almost feel his hands wrapped around the throat of his enforcer, but because he knew Lauren would take Luka’s death hard, he kept his fingers where they were, his knuckles gone white with the force of his grip. “Luka,” he started through gritted teeth, trying to force his annoyance down, wishing for once that Luka would do what he asked without having to make a joke out of it. “This is serious.” Since that night in the motel room, and Mishca had taken over as Pakhan, Mishca had seen less of his enforcer—and if he were being honest, it was in part because of his harboring resentment for what he had done, but mostly because he was entirely too busy. But with the shift in power, Mishca didn’t have many people left he trusted

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implicitly—and Luka had only been doing his job after all. Some wondered how he could trust Luka without knowing a single thing about him, and if he were on the outside looking in, Mishca would wonder the same thing, but Luka had never made him doubt him. Ever. He’d witnessed and heard of enough bloody shit that Luka had done that there was no doubt that he was who he said he was. That didn’t mean Mishca didn’t have the inclination to look into him now after everything that had happened. He just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. “Serious? This is serious. Very serious,” Luka agreed, shaking his head vehemently. “I’ll make sure nothing falls to shit while you’re off choking the dragon.” Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Mishca squeezed his eyes shut. “Luka—” “Jerking the chicken?”

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“Get out.” Luka pouted like he had been looking forward to saying more. “One more thing.” He turned as Mishca came around his desk, rolling up his sleeve. Luka’s eyebrows went up as he watched in fascination at what Mishca might do next. But Mishca didn’t say anything, only slung out his fist, connecting with Luka’s nose. His head snapped back, his hands immediately coming up to cup his nose, a surprised laugh spilling out of him. Dropping his hands, blood streaming from his face, he wiped it with the back of his hand. Grinning, he said, “You hit like a bitch.” At this point, even Mishca was smiling. “Don’t ever break my finger again.”

CHAPTER THREE It was organized chaos the next morning as they readied to leave, wanting to get to the airport early. A few of the men that Mishca had brought over, Lauren had never seen before, but he made sure they stuck close to the elevator and didn’t venture any further into the apartment. While he’d finished the last of his rounds of walking through the place making sure everything was secure, Lauren was waiting for him, on the phone with

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Susan, letting her know what time they were supposed to be arriving. Mishca passed a set of keys to Luka and said, “Keep things running smoothly.” “Yea, okay.” He gestured for them to enter the elevator, pulling Lauren to his side as one of them pressed the button to go down. There were a number of people in the lobby, but seeing Mishca’s security, they moved to the side, eyes wide. Luka went around the back, going to bring the car around while they waited outside. Mishca scanned the street, not very surprised at the unmarked car that was parked a few blocks down. He knew he was under a microscope, so he always made sure to pay careful attention to when and how he conducted his business. Once Luka arrived, he hopped out the front, popping the trunk to place their luggage in. He reached for the bag Lauren held,

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but she smiled tightly, as she hefted it in herself, not meeting his eyes as she said, “I got it.” Lauren was nice, more so than she needed to be in the world they lived in, and Mishca had never seen her treat Luka with anything less than sisterly affection. Now? She looked like she didn’t even want to be around him. Mishca looked between the pair, trying to decipher what the problem was, but the moment he asked, Lauren smiled with a shake of her head, and Luka didn’t bother with a response at all. Once Lauren was beside him in the back of the Range Rover, and Luka was maneuvering them into the morning traffic, Mishca looked over to Lauren. “What did he do?” It was clear that it was definitely something, he knew her too well to think otherwise, even as she continued to deny it.

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Ignoring that, he asked, “Do I need to have a word with him?” “It’s fine, Mish. I’ve got it under control.” She fell silent again as she took out her phone, absorbed in whatever she was looking through on her phone. He left her to it, needing to send out a few last minute messages to some of his men that were not in the need to know about him leaving the city. While they were only going to be in Michigan for a couple of days, his plan to take them to Sardinia was going to be a bit longer, three. He would have loved to stay gone for longer, but currently, he couldn’t afford to let his businesses go unattended for that long. Even before he became Pakhan, there were always enemies hovering, waiting for the moment when he would make a mistake so that they could steal territory from him, encroach on his business contacts, but Mishca hadn’t gotten this far by making

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mistakes, and so long as he had allies, he could be fine. But Lauren didn’t need to know any of that. When he’d agreed to this trip, he’d promised her that she would make it as normal for her—and Susan—as he could. He knew the ties his family had with them, and he didn’t want to disrupt their life by bringing in reminders of what his family had caused. He agreed to not have security tail them while they were with her mother and Ross, but though unknown to her, he did have a few people that would be meeting them in Sardinia. Though he didn’t anything of significance would happen while they were there, he would rather be safe than sorry. JFK International came into view as they pulled up along the curb, Luka throwing on the hazard lights as he climbed out. Mishca got out next, extending his hand to Lauren to pull her out.

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It took no time at all for Luka to unload their luggage, but before they went off to enter the airport, Luka stopped them. “Yo?” Lauren glanced back at Luka, ever patient though she still looked reluctant to talk to him. Luka turned back to the car, reached across the front seat, grabbing the small plant that Mishca had wondered about. She looked just as confused as Mishca felt as Luka handed it over to her with a hopeful expression, digging his hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. “What is this?” She asked, turning it over in her hands, running her finger over one of the leaves. “An olive branch.” This meant nothing to Mishca, but whatever secret meaning it held for the two of them, it made Lauren smile slowly, and whatever tension that had been consistent between them vanished in that moment.

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She went to him, wrapping her arms around him, rising up to kiss his cheek. She whispered something in his ear, and he mumbled a response, neither of which Mishca could hear, but whatever was said made Lauren nod and smile again. “We should get going,” Mishca called to her. Luka slammed the trunk shut, moving to hug Mishca as well, stopping short when Mishca glared at him. “No worries, Boss. I’ll hold down the fort.” As he headed around the back of the car towards the driver’s seat, Mishca called out to him, “Watch after Alex.” His hands flexed into fists at his sides, but for once, the enforcer didn’t give a response. *** True to Mishca’s word, it didn’t feel like they were connected to a Russian mob syndicate once they were alone in the airport. It

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had actually been his idea to fly commercial as opposed to taking a private plane. In the crowded airport, as they waited to be called, they sat in a relatively secluded corner next to an outlet, Lauren’s iPad on the charger, her legs thrown over his even with the relatively small space they were in. She hadn’t thought much of what it would be like to go on a trip like a ‘normal’ married couple when she had booked this one, but now that it was just the two of them, no constant ringing phones, casual clothes, and zero security, she liked this idea more and more. “Hungry?” He asked looking over at her. “Just something to drink.” He easily climbed to his feet, traveling well across the room to a row of vending machines. Before, it hadn’t been much of a surprise that Mishca garnered attention wherever he went, but now it was hard for Lauren not to notice the side-eyed

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stares—undoubtedly because of the press covering Mishca’s, albeit a short one, trial. Mishca was accustomed to it—he had grown up in this life after all—but she wasn’t, and it often bothered her when she saw it. Maybe it was the judgment that she saw in their eyes that she didn’t like. He returned seconds later, two gatorades in hand, reclaiming his seat beside her. “What’s that look for?” Lauren tok her time unscrewing the cap, taking a long sip of her drink before finally answering. “Do you ever wonder what people think of you?” He frowned, setting his own down she could rest his hands on her left leg, slowly kneading the muscles in her calf. “What do you mean?” “Since the trial, haven’t you noticed the looks?” She gestured out in front of them where some of the people were still occasionally

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glancing over at them. When they noticed Lauren watching them, they quickly averted their eyes. “They don’t matter. If you were to ever look at me like that, then I would care.” Lauren fell silent, returning to her book although it was hard to focus on the words. Almost half an hour passed before a woman came over the intercom to call for their gate. Mishca carried their bags they were keeping on board, even loading them himself. First class was significantly different from Coach. The flight attendants were friendlier, not to mention the amenities and perks that came with it. The seats were spacious, and there was more than enough room to recline the seats back with disturbing anyone else. Lauren stepped into their row first, Mishca taking the seat closest to the aisle. As he opened his email, the screen of his laptop lighting up his face, Lauren peeked over to see what he was doing.

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Within the email he was reading over, there was a set of photos attached, and while she hadn’t gotten the chance to read it, he did open up the attachments. “What’s this for?” She asked, looking over the empty interior of what looked like a bar. At least, that’s what she thought it was. There was a section of the wall that had shelves built into it. It reminded her of a speakeasy from the late 1920’s: dark hardwood floors, brick walls, vintage lighting along the ceilings. “The location where Roman is thinking of opening his business.” “You never did explain why Roman was coming to you with this. I thought you said he doesn’t answer to you?” Sometimes it was still weird for her to think of him as ‘the bastard son’ as he had introduced himself to Lauren at the rehearsal dinner several months ago. It had been a bit of a shock to learn that Viktor had any

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children—let alone Alex—but that wasn’t much of a surprise since Lauren knew very little about him besides the fact that he was a shitty person. He smiled without looking at her. “In the simplest of terms, we’re forming a sort of alliance. While Green Hill is its own place, it’s still fairly close to Brooklyn. To keep the peace, he offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse.” Her hand drifted over his back where she knew the cross rested. She was curious to know more, but knew that no matter if she asked more, he would find a way to evade giving an answer. She was actually surprised she hadn’t gotten this much from him. “It won’t be anything too dangerous, right?” She had to ask. Mishca sighed, shaking his head. “It’s complicated, but if you’re worried that it will affect us, it won’t.”

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“Okay.” She leaned over, kissing his cheek, feeling his move beneath her lips as he smiled. “Thank you for this, by the way.” “Anything for you.” His smile went from playful to mischievous. “Besides, I’m sure Ross is going to be thrilled to see me.” *** It was a relatively short flight from New York to Michigan, and an even shorter wait to pick up the rental car. “No.” “You didn’t even give me a chance to ask,” Lauren complained, grabbing hold of Mishca’s arm before he could take another step further. “Technically, we’re on vacation and I deserve this. Besides, I know the area better than you and can get us there faster.” “I love you. You know this, but I would like to love you for an eternity, not just for now.”

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She rolled her eyes though his words touched her. “If it matters that much to you, I’ll drive slow.” Mishca sighed long and hard, not wanting to agree, but knowing that he would eventually cave if she turned those beautiful golden eyes on him. Reluctantly, he tossed her the keys, trying not to look frightened as he got into the passenger seat and buckled in. Once she was in, he reached over, his hand curling around her thigh, but she sighed and gently removed his hand. “I can’t drive with you doing that, Mish.” He grimaced. “Probably for the best.” “No worries, Mish. I love you too much to kill you.” He believed that, but still couldn’t help sitting up straight as they pulled off. Though they joked about it, Lauren wasn’t that bad of a driver despite her rather constant need to drive above the speed limit. Another hour

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in the car and they finally passed the welcoming sign to her hometown. The way she relaxed back in the seat, her smile soft and content, made him happier than he could express, glad that he could give this to her. He could remember the way she looked at him when the question of them coming to town for the wedding came up. She had been reluctant, not wanting to put him in the position of denying her request, but he knew, just from seeing her face that day that no matter what she asked of him, even if it were virtually impossible to get, he would give it to her. He could never imagine denying her anything. Looking back out the window, he tried to see this town as she had described to him. It was small, definitely, and he was so used to the constant string of people in New York that it was almost disconcerting seeing the

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rather vacant streets and only the occasional person on the sidewalk. They made a left on Main Street, entering a residential neighborhood and he couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes skirted between the road and a house that was fast approaching. He knew, without her having to say, that that was her childhood home, and the place where it had all happened. Posted in the yard was a ‘for sale’ sign, one that, while probably not the same one, had been sitting in that yard for as long as Lauren had moved out, from what she had told him once. Time changed things, warped memories, but from the expression on Lauren’s face, this house was as it had always been. Though she had told him not to, he reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. She parallel parked, cutting the engine as she turned to face him. “I want to go in.”

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“Lauren—” “Just to see…” Mishca sighed, and finally agreed. They walked onto the porch and he watched her without speaking as she went over a a spot she obviously knew well, running her fingers over a carving that was still there. “Pardon me!” Lauren jumped, spinning around to face the woman that was climbing out of her car, waving enthusiastically. If he had to guess, she was a real estate agent, and not one from around here, judging by the fact that the woman’s smile didn’t falter. Mishca reached for Lauren, his hand sliding beneath the heavy fall of her hair, cupping the nape of her neck as his thumb rubbed soothingly over her skin, trying to ease the tension out of her.

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“I shouldn’t have let you come here,” he said, barely above a whisper, but she shook her head. “I’m fine.” “We can—” “Good morning! Are you two here for the open house?” The agent had a wide smile, and in another house maybe, she would have made a great salesperson. Mishca smiled politely though he was ready to get Lauren out of there. “No, we—” “Yes,” Lauren interrupted. “We’d love to have a look around.” “Wonderful—oh, where are my manners—I’m Holly Chaplain.” Lauren shook the woman’s hand, Mishca only offering a nod. “Lauren, and my husband, Mishca.” Holly looked over them both—probably trying to assess whether or not they were serious buyers or not—then turned and

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unlocked the front door, stepping through, waving her hand for them to follow. Mishca didn’t move immediately, his eyes drifting to Lauren, waiting to see what she would do next. It had been more than a decade since she had been in this house, and it was clear that she was panicking at what she might see in there. Clearing her throat, she walked in. Holly immediately launched into a rehearsed speech about the beauty of the house and everything it had to offer, but neither of them were really listening. Lauren was busy staring over at the closet near the front door. Mishca knew the specifics of the night, having tortured it out of two of the three involved. It was uncomfortable for him, knowing what she had suffered so long ago, even if he hadn’t been involved. He knew the pain and suffering it had caused her and Susan, and for that, he wished they were alive all

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over again so he could watch them die again, but slowly. God, he couldn’t imagine what she had heard on the other side of that door, and just thinking about it, cut him deeply. “It’s time to go.” She was still transfixed by the door, but at his command, she nodded. Without a words to Holly, he walked her out and back to the car, deciding it was best that he drive. During the drive from that house to Susan and Ross’ new residence, Lauren gradually came back to herself, wiping every bit of the anxiousness from her face when she saw Susan and Ross waiting for them outside on the swing. “I’m sorry, I—” “We’ll talk about it later, yes?” Susan’s face lit up as they came over to her, but Ross stood off to the side, arms folded across his chest, looking every bit of the homicide detective he had once been. The

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only time that scowl was gone from his face was when Lauren went in for a hug, rising up to kiss his cheek. “Looking good, Ross,” she said, missing the glare he was sending Mishca over her shoulder. “Getting married is a good look for you.” “Volkov treating you alright?” “Of course.” “It’s good to see you, Mishca.” Mishca smiled at Susan, stepping into her embrace, though not for long as he felt heat on the back of his neck from Ross. Sure enough, when he turned, Ross was standing up straighter, narrowed eyes trained on Mishca. “Volkov.” “Ross.” If nothing else cheered her up, Lauren was always amused by their interaction. “We’ll grab the bags,” Ross offered. “You two go on in and catch up.”

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If he were a lesser man, Mishca might have protested, but instead, he sucked it up and followed his father-in-law out to the car.

CHAPTER FOUR The rest of the day was spent catching up, mostly between Lauren and Susan since Ross was busy manning the grill and he ‘needed Volkov around to help.’ She had to bite her lip to stop from laughing at the way Mishca looked standing next to Ross, wearing an apron with a man’s bare chest on the front. It really was amazing the things he would do for her just because he loved her.

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Lauren shared everything she could about her life with Mishca, making sure not to mention where they had stopped before arriving. By the time she finished, and Susan had told her of everything—though not nearly as much as Lauren—she and Ross had been up to for the past few months, it was already midday. With not much else to do, Lauren talked Mishca into going into town with her, letting him drive since she knew he preferred it. As they ventured into the town center, she remembered why she loathed it there. That was the thing about small towns, you either left and never came back—or only to come back and visit if you still cared about your family—or you stayed stuck there until you died, reflecting on the “good ol’ days.” Of course, Lauren’s opinion might have varied if there had been something else to occupy everyone’s time besides her father’s murder, but there wasn’t much luck there.

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But, who she was before when she lived here wasn’t the person she was today. She and Mishca were out in the town, picking up a few things from the local shops, and since Susan had asked her to pick up a few things from the grocery store, Lauren did that last. She was in the produce section, grabbing a few pomegranates when she heard the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat somewhere to her right. If that was how it was going to start off, Lauren knew it wasn’t going to end well. Standing there with a wide smile of pearly white teeth was Amanda Ward and—Lauren actually cringed—Lauren’s high school crush, Benjamin Sutter. He had been one of the more braver souls, ignoring Ross’ surliness, or at least that was what Lauren had thought at the time. She hadn’t thought of him since that first unfortunate day between them, the day she learned she had just been a dare. She had

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never thought that kind of stuff happened in real life, always thinking that it was a plot for a movie, but she learned quickly enough that it did happen, at least to her. Apparently, there had been an initiation ritual for the freshman jocks by the upperclassmen. Lauren had never really understood who was supposed to be more humiliated, her or Benjamin, but considering she’d actually had a crush on him since middle school—which was probably noticeable—she thought it was her. “Funny running into you here,” Amanda sad looking back at Benjamin as though waiting for him to agree. He just looked mildly uncomfortable. “I saw your mom and Detective Ross the other day. They seem to be doing well.” The cordial smile on Lauren’s face was soon turning brittle, already knowing where this conversation was going just from that one sentence. “They are.”

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“It’s a shame what happened to your dad.” The way she referred to it, she almost made it sound like his death had been an accident. Seventeen years was a long time, and she had often heard something similar to what Amanda said over that length of time, but in the place she was in now, she was tired of hearing that phrase. “Yea.” What exactly was she expected to say to that? Amanda was about to say something more, but her mouth snapped shut as her eyes drifted past her. Lauren didn’t have to guess that it was Mishca coming up behind her, especially with the way Amanda seemed to stop breathing. Mishca’s hand went from the small of her back, sliding beneath the fall of her hair, his thumb rubbing circles over the nape of her neck. That familiar since of calmness filled her at his touch.

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Lauren didn’t have to introduce her, Amanda did it all on her own. Her hand shot out fast, aimed directly at Mishca. “Hi, I’m Amanda, a friend of Lauren’s from high school,”—friend was definitely a stretch—“And you are?” “Mishca Volkov, her husband.” He accepted her hand, letting it go a second later, gaze already gone to Benjamin who now seemed confused about Mishca’s presence. It would have been offensive, the way they kind of gawked at Mishca as though he was an abnormality, but Lauren remembered what she was like in high school and she had to admit that even she never expected to meet someone like him. “Oh,” Amanda said gesturing back to Benjamin as though she had forgotten his presence, though her eyes were still locked on Mishca. “This is my boyfriend, Benjamin.” Mishca didn’t speak to him, just nodded.

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“You know, a few people from our class are getting together tonight, a sort of anniversary dinner. We would just love it if you came, and your husband too of course.” With the way she was looking, it would have been just fine if Mishca went alone. “Vy khotite poyti v eto?—You want to go to this?” Mishca asked, glancing down at her. If there was something to be thankful for, it was the fact that she had a better understanding of Russian. Though she smiled at him, she said, “Nyet.” He laughed at that hard ‘no.’ “Mozhet byt’ veselo, da?—Could be fun, yes?” Amanda cleared her throat delicately, reminding them they still had company. “Sure,” Lauren said. “What time?” “Around eight, over at the Grille. You remember the place, don’t you?” “Yea, we’ll see you there.” ***

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Back when Lauren was in high school, the Grille was a wildly popular restaurant that was considered one step above Applebee’s, and though there was a bit of wear and tear to the interior, it was still a pretty upscale place. It had a rather dark interior, the bar taking up nearly the entire middle of the room. Dim lights were on tracks along the ceiling, the staff wearing all black, all dressed considerably better than what was normally seen at a restaurant. “I like this dress on you,” Mishca said as they walked towards the back. “New?” Trying not to smile, she shrugged. “Maybe.” Lauren could tell upon walking in that the party already seated at the lengthy table in the back of the restaurant had been waiting for a while, and therefore, had made her and Mishca the topic of conversation. Voices quieted as they approached. But Lauren didn’t let that bother her. It wouldn’t

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be the first time she agreed to dinner with people that she didn’t want to be around. Amanda got to her feet, smoothing the sides of her skirt. “We’re so glad you could make it.” She went around the table, introducing everyone one by one to Mishca—though Lauren could have done it since she remembered most of their names—and by the time the waiter came back around to get their drink orders, Lauren was more than ready to go. It wasn’t all so bad, not when Jeremy threw in a couple of stories that weren’t entirely embarrassing. Maybe it was just Lauren, but she didn’t realize just how much she had been noticed in high school. She thought she had been invisible, everyone always pitying her for what happened, but it was clear that what she thought back then wasn’t necessarily the case.

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Dinner went by relatively quickly, and before long, Lauren had let her guard down, finally allowing herself to be happy that she had agreed to show up…at least for a while. “Does he know?” Miranda, a girl that Lauren remembered from the dance team, leaned over to whisper after Mishca had excused himself. She was acting as though what she was saying was some big conspiracy that needed to be kept quiet. Playing along, Lauren widened her eyes. “Know what?” “About your dad…” And it was all going so well. “Yes, he knows all about it.” A lot more than anyone else, but she didn’t say that aloud. “If you’ll excuse me.” She really wasn’t in the mood to sit there and continue this conversation. Heading in the direction of the restrooms, more than happy to linger there until Mishca exited. She really didn’t understand the need for the

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constant reminder of what happened in the past. Realistically, she didn’t know anyone that cared enough to continue talking about it. Mishca came out, his brows drawing together as he looked her over. “What’s wrong?” “Are you ready to go?” His expression was unreadable, but he did grab hold of her hand, drawing her into the restroom at his back, flipping the lock as he followed. “Talk to me.” “It wasn’t so bad, it’s just…” She trailed off when he lifted her, setting her on the edge of the sink, his hands slowly slipping beneath the hem of her dress, pulling her panties down her legs, stuffing them into his pocket. “Keep talking.” “I think they were more interested in you than…”

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Trailing off again, she didn’t have to ask where this was heading, not when he nudged her legs apart, his hand slipping between them. “Tell me, that boy, Benjamin, why was he watching you all night.” The moment he’d put her up on that sink, she’d felt the heat pooling deep in her belly, and from the way he hissed something in Russian as he drew slow circles along her thigh, repeating the same motion in a spot where she wanted him more, he knew she was ready for him. When he did this, she reached for his belt, pulling it free as she went for the button of his pants next, then unzipping them. He moved her hands away, shaking his head to prevent her from repeating the gesture. Clearly, he wanted to be in control. “Answer me, Lauren.” “I had a thing for him once,” she whispered, her voice catching at the end as he slowly, but steadily, pressed a single

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finger inside of her, pushing it in and out before adding another. He legs were trembling on either side of his hips, but he didn’t seem to notice as he slowly took her higher, his eyes watching her expression the entire time. Despite his silent demand, she reached for his pants again, slipping her hand inside to wrap around him, pulling him free. Normally he made her beg, and she didn’t mind this—she rather enjoyed it—but he seemed to want this as badly as she did, so he didn’t protest. “Once?” He asked, clearly not ready to let it go. She forgot how much she enjoyed his jealous side. “I married you.” He had the skirt of her dress shoved up in the next minute, her legs around his waist as he pressed closer, slowly sliding between her folds, wetting himself liberally before entering her in one solid thrust. As a moan slipped past her lips, he kissed her hard, easing out

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of her before thrusting home, the arm he had around her waist tightening reflexively. It didn’t matter that they had been married for months, nor did it matter that she and Mishca had had sex plenty of times over the few years that she had known him, nothing could describe the way she felt when Mishca was inside of her. He knew her, inside and out, and knew exactly what she liked, even when she didn’t know herself. He kept her mouth covered with his as he whispered soft words in her ears, telling her how beautiful he thought she was, how he loved the way her pussy gripped him, and more importantly—and a fact that made her wetter for him—how no one else could make him lost control like she could. “More.” The plea came from her when he finally released her mouth. A growl vibrated in his chest as he gave her exactly what she wanted.

CHAPTER FIVE It was now Lauren’s turn to be the voice of reason now that she wasn’t the one getting married. While she might not have been getting married in a church or was having a lavish affair, Susan was more than a little excited about going down to the courthouse to sign the appropriate paperwork. But although Lauren was little more in control that morning, she was still freaking out as well.

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Excitement was humming inside of her and if it weren’t for Mishca and Ross, they would have never gotten anything done before heading out and to the courthouse. Ross wore a brown suit that fit him well, Susan in a dress of ivory lace. They fit well together, and Lauren had already went through a small package of tissues at just seeing them together walking inside. On the steps of the courthouse, Mishca grimaced, the action happening almost too fast for anyone to catch, but Lauren did. “Why the face?” “It’s rare that I voluntarily walk into a courthouse.” Lauren smirked. “Too afraid you won’t walk back out?” His expression only made her smile wider. “You don’t realize how true that statement is.” Squeezing his hand, she gave it a slight tug as she led the way into the rather large

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brick building that was older than the town itself. It took no time at all to reach the courtroom towards the end of the hall. There weren’t many people inside that day, most of those that were present, were people that Lauren actually knew. It wasn’t long before it was time for Susan and Ross to go up to the front, and it didn’t matter that there were other people on either side of her and Mishca, she was close to crying as she watched them stand before the judge, hand in hand. Lauren had been waiting for this day for as long as she could remember, and she was more than happy that she got to spend this special moment with them. Squeezing Mishca’s hand, she smiled over at him, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief that was once in the breast pocket of his jacket. He was far more composed, looking like his former self in his suit, his hair styled expertly out of his face.

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In retrospect, the courthouse wedding was far simpler and less stress inducing than Lauren’s, and she was glad that it went down without a hitch. Just as quickly as they arrived, they were leaving again, heading back home with the paperwork in hand. Since they would be leaving soon to visit Ross’ sister who lived a couple hours away, she and Mishca were ready to present their wedding present. When Susan pulled out the tickets that were inside the envelope, her mouth dropped open. Not just because it was a pair to the one place they had been planning to go—Paris—but because there were a number of tickets inside that didn’t expire and were available for anywhere they wanted to go. “We can’t accept these,” Ross said immediately. Lauren, at first, believed that he’d said this because the gift was extravagant, maybe

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more than what they expected, until Mishca spoke. “They are from the both of us, yes, but Lauren paid for them herself. They’re clean.” Ross looked like he was ready to object again, but Susan beat him to it. “Thank you, both of you. This is just what we wanted.” “May I speak with you privately, Susan?” Mishca asked, making both Lauren and Ross look to him. “No.” “Thomas, don’t be so mean. He did fly all this way for Lauren to be here.” As Lauren watched them head out of the room, she couldn’t help but wonder what Mishca wanted to talk to her about. *** “Congratulations,” Mishca said once they were alone, or at least as alone as they could get with Ross hovering in the next room. Not that he blamed him, he understood the man’s hesitation.

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“Thank you, Mishca. What can I do for you?” “Lauren tells me you’re thinking of selling your house, that you want to travel for a while.” She smiled, but shook her head, and he could see where Lauren got some of her habits as he watched her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just wishful thinking.” “If you want, I can set that up for you.” “That’s thoughtful of you, Mishca, but I—we can’t accept that. There’s so much here that we would have to take care of, and by the time we finished…maybe in the future.” “Lauren took me by your old house.” He could see he was treading in dangerous territory and rushed to explain. “I think, like you, she’s ready to let go and leave it in her past. This will be my gift to you,a new beginning.” She shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. “I still remember the first time I met

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you. You were so sure of yourself, even at that young of an age. I thought you were adorable. I never thought the day would come where you would become such a big part of our family, but I’m glad you’re with us.” “Thank you for having me. So does this mean you’ll accept my offer?” “From what Lauren tells me, I don’t think I have much of a choice, but I think you’ll have a harder time trying to convince Ross of this.” “That’s why,” Mishca said with a smile, “I’ll leave that part up to you.” As she went in for one last hug, from the doorway, Ross said, “Keep your hands to yourself, boy.” *** The next day, they were back at the airport after dropping off the rental car, and while Mishca knew where they were going next, he had been trying to think of the best way to surprise her. It wasn’t until they got

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there that he had had the bright idea of asking her to look up their departure time on the giant display, waiting for the moment when she realized what he had done. She glanced over at him after reading the board at the top, noticing the discrepancy between where they were supposed to be going and their flight number. “I think our flight is wrong.” His answer was just to smile, a slow curling of his lips at one corner. “Maybe not.” Lauren looked back up at the door, wordlessly mouthing the name of their destination as though she was trying to place the name in her head. “Where is Sardinia? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.” “Italy,” he answered. “Do you have business there?” Since they had a bit of time before they had to board, Mishca pulled out his phone, doing a quick search for the place they would

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be going. Without a word, he handed it over to her, letting her come to her own conclusion. One picture after another flashed across his screen as she slid her finger over it, and with each one she saw, the more he could see her excitement growing. “Why?” “Because you deserve it. It’s my gift to you since our last honeymoon had to be postponed.” “You didn’t have to do that, Mish.” “I wanted to.” “But I’m not packed for a honeymoon!” Smiling, he patter the bag that he’d had Amber put together for him the day she and Lauren had went out shopping, knowing that she would be more than happy to do it. “You have great friends.” “I don’t know if I’ve told you, but I love you, Mish. More than you’ll ever know. ***

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It took ages to get from Michigan to Sardinia, and multiple flights. Though she was tired, Lauren was far too excited to get there to do much sleeping. Mishca was asleep beside her, and earlier, he had reached over, curling his hand around her thigh, and even in his sleep, his hold was possessive. She often wondered if he would ever get over doing that. It also didn’t help that she had to go to the restroom while he was still holding her. She tried to carefully lift his hand without waking him, but as she tried to free her leg, he spoke with surprising clarity as though he hadn’t been asleep, but his eyes were still closed. “Where are you going?” “Restroom. Go back to sleep.” “Don’t be long.” Always demanding. She slid out into the aisle, heading towards the facilities that were only a short distance away. The restroom

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was clean—cleaner than she was expecting, though it shouldn’t have been surprising since they were in first class—and when she finished, washing her hands in the basin, she took a moment to appreciate where she was going and who she was with. When she thought of their honeymoon, this hadn’t been what she originally planned, but all thoughts of it had been forced from her mind when he’d been shot. Some nights she still woke up in a panic, her hand drifting over his chest, feeling the strong and steady beat of his heart beneath her touch. He was understanding, and aways made it a point to pull her into his side until she fell back asleep. Now that he was fully healed—and she would only accept that assertion from his doctor—it made her feel a little better. Things were relatively back to normal and she was happy about it.

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Returning to her seat, Lauren stretched her legs out, nearly laughing when Mishca reached over, resting his head on her shoulder, his hand returning to her leg. “We’ve been on this damn place for hours,” he complained, relaxing beneath her when she began playing with the silky strands of his hair. “You’re the one who chose Sardinia, Mish.” “Remind me never to do that again.” *** This time, getting their luggage wasn’t that easy. Standing there, Mishca’s bags had come around, even the special bag he’d brought for her, but for whatever reason, Lauren’s hadn’t shown. “Could be worse,” Lauren said trying to lighten Mishca’s darkening mood. Truthfully, she was just excited about being out of the country more than she was worried about what was now lost in her

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luggage. There wasn’t anything particularly irreplaceable within it, so that was a good thing. “How might that be?” “I could have gotten taken by a cute guy outside this airport.” He held onto his frown, but his eyes were smiling. “No more TV.” Laughing, she followed him over to the help desk, acutely aware of the attention they were drawing. She doubted it was because of Mishca’s status, and more likely because of how big he was compared to the smaller Italian women. While Mishca might have been frustrated, he tempered his agitation, speaking calmly and quietly to the man seated behind the desk. From they way he hesitated over certain word, it was clear he wasn’t as familiar with Italian as he was with French and Russian. Reaching into her carryon, she hunted for the pocket-edition Italian-English

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dictionary she’d bought from their last stop. She had already practiced greetings and how to introduce herself while she was on the plane, but knew she would need a little help as she figured she wouldn’t be getting her luggage anytime soon. As best as she could, Lauren asked if there were any local shops around, places where she could buy a few things to replace some of what had been lost. The women were more than happy to assist her with her search, speaking in rapid Italian, most of it lost on her. Thanking them, she headed back to Mishca, telling him of what she had learned. Since they wouldn’t be getting much help from the attendant standing behind the desk, Mishca finished his report, and they left. While Lauren waited for Mishca to pick up their new car, Lauren looked around the little shops, picking up little souvenirs that she could bring back to the States. When

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Mishca pulled around the corner, she raised her hand to let him know where she was standing. Mishca put on a pair of opaque sunglasses, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun, opening the passenger door for her, gesturing with a wave of his arm for her to climb in. One thing she definitely liked about this car was that the top was down, and as they pulled off on the winding streets towards Sardinia, the wind whipped her hair back and she could do no more than smile. The drive through Cagliari, where they had actually landed, towards Nuoro where Lauren asked if they could stop so she could get pictures of the town. Most of the houses, and buildings in general, were made of limestone and looked stunning in the low light of the sunset. While she happily snapped pictures of practically everything in sight, Mishca just smiled, glad that she was enjoying herself.

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The farther they went, and the closer they got to their destination, the more the scent of the sea permeated the air, and with it came her first view of the water. “Why here?” Lauren asked as she got a better view of the sheer beauty of the town they were now in. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but I’d never even heard of this place before you mentioned it.” “A friend suggested it. I have very few business contacts here so we’ll undisturbed during our time here.” They drove in silence the rest of the way to where they would be staying, but once they arrived, she gasped. One day, and she had no idea when that day would come, Lauren would stop underestimating what Mishca would do for her. If she weren’t so tired from the flight, she was sure her mouth would be hanging open. Clearly, even short notice, Mishca was able

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to pull off something a person only dreamed about. They weren’t staying in a hotel close to the harbor—as she’d thought they would—but rather a holiday villa on top of a promontory, giving clear views of the rocky shore and water below. Only cooler, was the peak of the villa, a shining light like a beacon pointing out towards the sea. Standing in front of the residence was a man that looked to be in his early sixties, wearing a pair of white linen pants and brown sandals, his shirt a similar material. His snowy white hair fell flat around his head, and once he saw their car pull around, he straightened further, tucking his hand in his pocket. Lauren’s eyes shot to Mishca, but since he didn’t seem surprised to see the man standing there, she dismissed her worries…at least until they were right before him and he was passing Mishca an envelope.

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After speaking in quick, fluent Italian with Mishca, he smiled politely at Lauren and went on his way. “What did he say?” A muscle ticked in Mishca’s jaw before he said, “Welcome to Italy.” “And…” He hesitated, clearly not wanting to answer, but did anyway. “Roman sends his regards.” Lauren stiffened, not taking another step forward. “Was this a favor then? A gift for a deal you agreed to?” “Not in so many words.” “You know what?” Lauren said holding her hands up as she plucked the keys from his hand, heading towards the house. “I don’t think I want to know. Hopefully he didn’t bug the house because it would be weird knowing your cousin is listening to us have sex.”

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He smiled though she wasn’t trying to be funny. “Noted.”

CHAPTER SIX Between jet lag and their already erratic sleep schedule, they didn’t go back out again until that night. As they started off down the cobblestoned streets, Lauren was taken by the sky, the whole of it painted in brilliant colors, ranging from pinks to purples, indigos and yellows, with lines of white throughout. It didn’t look real. There were a number of restaurants facing the water, and while there were a good

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number of the outdoor tables filled, Lauren pointed to one on the corner. Instead of sitting inside—though the interior was just as beautiful—they opted for a table outside to enjoy the view. Mishca pulled the chair out for her before removing his jacket and claiming his own seat. When their waiter appeared, greeting them warmly in Italian, he ordered for the both of them, most of it lost on Lauren as she continued to smile, captivated by the way he spoke. After thanking the man, and handing over their menus, Mishca reached across the table for her hand, tracing the delicate skin of her wrist with his finger. “Are you happy?” Could her heart beat any harder for him? “I’m always happy with you.” His dimple showed as a corner of his mouth tilted up. “You’re sweet.” “I’m being honest.”

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Their wine came first, poured expertly into crystal glasses. The local wine smelled pungent, and tasted rich in a way only red wine could. Before long, Lauren had finished her first glass, and had another. “Tonight is going to be interesting,” Mishca commented absently, smiling over at her as he took a swallow of his own drink. “I don’t know what you mean, Mish. I’m completely sober.” Though she was, at this point, feeling the effects of the alcohol, and because of that, she was more aware of his touch as he continued to rub circles along her arm. “Is everything going to be okay with us staying gone for so long?” He shook his head. “You don’t need to worry about that. Just enjoy yourself. That’s why we’re here, no?” Their food arrived, and Lauren’s eyes widened as she saw the fish on her plate, head and all. It was cut down the middle,

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slices of lemon and herbs inside, and while it looked intimidating, it smelled amazing. She took small bites, tasting it first before she really dug in. Apparently, that was just the appetizer. Gradually, over the next couple of hours, several dishes were brought out to them one by one, and by the time dessert came around, Lauren was stuffed, but she couldn’t bring himself to turn down the tiramisu. Mishca paid their bill, keeping his arm around her waist as they walked down the dock to the water. Toeing off her shoes, she picked them up, dipping her feet into the water as she sat. He was more content watching her enjoy the night, leaning against one of the wooden beams as she kicked her feet in the water. “It’s beautiful here,” she said absently, staring out at the reflection of the moon in the water. “Thank you for bringing me.”

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“I can’t count the number of times you thanked me since we arrived. You don’t have to thank me at all. All of this, everything I do, is for you.” “But still,” she said getting back up, shaking her feet to sling some of the water on him, making her laugh as he glowered. “I’m grateful for this, for everything. I know it isn’t easy for you, and I know that it could be potentially dangerous for you to walk around without your guys, so I need you to know that I appreciate it. I appreciate you.” “Maybe you can show me how appreciative you are when we get back? I know I’ll enjoy that.” She smiled, trailing her nail down his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his clothes. “Sure…I think you’ll like the surprise I have for you.”

CHAPTER SEVEN For the second time in only a week, Lauren was up before Mishca. At first, she’d sat on the balcony with the doors open, just breathing in the cool sea air before she began combing through the travel book she’d gotten—along with a few suggestions from one of the workers at the hotels—trying to decide on the first beach they would visit. One thing she definitely wanted to do, though she hadn’t bothered to mention this

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to Mishca yet, cliff diving. Undoubtedly, she knew he wouldn’t agree and would more than likely try to stop her from doing this, but with the element of surprise on her hands, she doubted there would be much he could do. With a pen, she circled a few of her favorites, trying to work out in her head how they would be able to visit every one of her selections by the time they left. Vaguely, she thought she heard a chiming bell within the house, but as she ventured in, she caught sight of Mishca closing the front door, two bags in hand. “Who was that?” He glanced up at her and the sight of him, wearing nothing more than his pajama pants that rode low on his hips, and his messy hair made her smile down at him. “I ordered breakfast.” Her brow knitting n confusion, she shook her head. “When?”

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Mishca’s answer was a smile. After making a quick stop in the kitchen, he headed in her direction, walking her back onto the balcony, his free hand at her waist. With the waves crashing against the rocks down below, and the occasional bird soaring through the air, there was no better way to enjoy the morning. He plated all of it, setting each one in the middle of the table. When he finished, Lauren spread some Brie on a croissant, taking a small bite. “What do you want to do today?” He asked, reaching over to play with her hair. “This island is your playground.” She was silent for a while, thinking over all the possibilities until she made her final decision. “Rent a boat.” *** Lauren was laying on a towel on the bow, sunglasses on as the sun beamed down on her. She’d already rubbed on a coconut

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scented tanning oil, and now was enjoying the slight rocking of the boat as the water moved around her. It had been a relatively quick process, renting the boat, and since Mishca already knew how to drive one, they had taken it out onto the water in no time. The beaches of Sardinia were far more beautiful in person, their allure lost in translation with photographs. Mishca had been below deck, but she could hear him walking back up. She shifted in his direction, using her hand to block out some of the sun as she smiled over at him. He was barefoot, wearing a pair of nautical themed board shorts, along with a straw fedora that really worked for him. Thank God for this vacation. “Are you going to tan, Mish?” She asked innocently, plucking a grape off the tray he was carrying with him, turning over on her stomach so she could see him better.

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Mishca, in all his pale glory, glared up at the sun and shook his head. “I don’t tan.” “Are you at least getting in the water then? I don’t want to get wet by myself.” Lauren realized what she said too late, rolling her eyes at his blooming smile. “I’m serious, Mish.” “Sure, but in the mean time, I’ll enjoy the view.” “You know,” Lauren said swinging her legs down. “I think we’re alone out here.” Mishca lounged back in his chair, setting the tray to the side as he watched her, one corner of his mouth tugging up. His head canted to the side as he asked, “Are you trying to seduce me, Lauren?” She hopped down, pulling at the strings of her bikini top as she took slow steps towards him. “Maybe.” As her top fell away, and his gaze dropped from her face to her breasts, his

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next words came out as almost a whisper. “I’m already seduced.” Usually that expression that he was wearing was playful, but now? She could practically feel the pulsing energy coming off of him. Grabbing his hand, she moved between his legs, using his fingers to trail down her sternum. He watched the descent, mumbling words in Russian that she didn’t bother to try and understand. Though she felt like she was on fire, his skin was cool to the touch, leaving a cool but heated path down her stomach. At first he was compliant, just accepting her using him to tease herself, but he could only take so much. He got to his feet, wrapping an arm around her waist as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck as he carried her down below the deck. Dropping her on the bed, he immediately climbed over her, his hand sliding between

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her legs, slipping beneath the fabric that covered her. His eyes roamed her face, waiting for her reaction before he dropped his lips to the curve of her neck, his tongue tracing over her flesh, his teeth grazing over her next. Lauren felt like she was on fire as he slowly explored her like it was the first time all over again, like he didn’t know every single place on her body that made her come alive beneath him. By the time he found his way below her navel, she was a squirming mess, softly begging him to touch her more, give her more. She had never thought that she could get this high off just his touch alone, and the moment his tongue traced over her opening, that groan of his breaking through his chest, she was done. Within the confines of the boat, he let her scream out her release, her hands gripping fistfuls of the sheets on either side of her, but

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he wasn’t done with her, not by a long shot. Her cries seemed to spark something to life inside of him. He pulled away, fisting himself, slowly stroking up and down, eyes on her spread thighs and the evidence of her arousal there. Mishca seemed mesmerized by the sight, like it was a place he was desperate to be. After the orgasm he had just given her, she wouldn’t deny him anything. Lauren moved to shaky knees, changing their positions so that Mishca was now on his back and she was the one on top. Replacing his hand with her own, she felt the pulsing throughout his length as she stroked him the way he liked, watching his expression change from hungry to something more heady. “Now, Lauren.” She rose above him, positioning him at her entrance before sinking down onto him,

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moaning in abandon at the way he fit almost perfectly. It didn’t matter that she was the one on top, he was still in control. His hands were at her hips, guiding her, easing her up and down in the rhythm he preferred. She could feel her orgasm building again, could feel it taking her over again, but Mishca wasn’t ready to give it to her just yet. And they continued this dance, him getting her just to the brink before snatching her back, chuckling softly when she punched his shoulder. “Izvolit’—Please.” That one word and he finally put her out of her pleasurable misery. The moment she tipped over the edge, so did he, his thrusts slowing as he swelled inside of her, moments before he came, growling her name. Lauren collapsed against his chest, feeling the sweat sticking to the both of them.

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“I don’t want to move from this spot,” she murmured, tracing one of the stars on her chest. “I like it here.” “I like you here.” “Is this your idea of sucking up? Cause if it is, I’m all or it.” “We could always stay on this boat,” Mishca suggested wryly, his satisfied grin growing. “I can think of a few more things we can do before we need to leave.” “As tempting as that sounds,”—and it really was tempting—“I still want to swim.” She could tell he would rather stay in bed with her, but he did honor her wishes, grabbing his own clothes before passing her her own. When she eventually followed him back up the deck, she saw they were a good distance away from where they came, but closer to the cliffs that she had spied riding into the town. Mishca hadn’t noticed since he’d been the one driving, but on their way in, Lauren

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had caught sight of a few people around these parts,, climbing up only to jump back down. Back when she lived in Michigan, Lauren had only had the guts to jump off a cliff into the lake once, but only under the watchful eye of Ross. Now, she was more than excited to try it again. Once Mishca dropped the anchor, she wasted no time diving in, smiling at the feel of the water enveloping her. When she came back up, she saw Mishca smiling at her from his position on the boat. She smiled back, but only for a moment before she began swimming for the rocks. “What are you doing?” He called after her. She had a choice, obviously. Either keep going, or pretend like she hadn’t heard him and keep going, knowing that if she did either, he would get upset. Of course, she picked the latter.

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Mishca dived in after her, but it was too late. She was already climbing up to the top, a smile on her face as she went. Once she was finally in a relatively safe spot—after she waited for the waves to recede so she could see better—she gradually got to her feet, clapping at her success. “I’ll be fine, Mish,” she called back, not bothering to look back at him, knowing that if she did that the look he was wearing would force her to climb back down. “This isn’t my first time doing this.” “Get your ass down!” He was clearly upset, but Lauren tuned him out, almost to the top. Once she got up there, and was steady on her feet, she smiled down at him, waving enthusiastically, even as he glowered. “That’s the plan.” Even from her distance, she could see his hands were balled into fists and she didn’t doubt that if he didn’t have a healthy dose of

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fear of heights, he would have come after her. But at the moment, while she felt like was at the very tip of the world, the wind whipping her hair around, her arms outstretched, she felt invincible. She stayed there for a while, letting that emotion consume her entirely before she jumped over the edge. The water came at her fast, and she only had a second to scream before she was underwater. She sunk for only a short amount of time before she breached the surface again, tossing her hair back and wiping the seawater from her eyes so she could see Mishca better. He was glowering, as she had expected him to be, but he didn’t look that upset. “How many more times?” He asked sarcastically, probably thinking that once would have been enough. It wasn’t. And she made sure he knew that.

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*** “What hurts?” “Everything.” Lauren was not above begging him to carry her the short distance from their car to the front door of their rental, but kept going, always thinking that she was one step closer to a wonderful down bed that she was more than ready to sink into. She had forgotten just how tiring swimming was, especially since it had been a while since the last time she had done it. “Come here.” He swept her up like she weighed next to nothing, and she nearly sighed in relief as the constant agony in her legs vanished. Mishca only set her on her feet long enough for him to unlock and open the door “There are dozens of reasons why I love you, Mish. This is one of them.”

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His lips twitched. “The feeling is mutual. Maybe now you’ll rethink this need to do things like cliff jumping?” “Not a chance.” When they hit the bedroom, Lauren would have been more than happy to plop down on the bed and spend hours that way, but Mishca had other plans. He kept a tight hold of her, going through to the bathroom instead. “Mish—” “Not yet.” “But—” “Pover’te mne—Trust me.” Not about to argue—especially with the underlying promise she heard in his words—she let him sit her down on the counter, watching as he went over to turn on the shower, adjusting the taps until the room was filled with steam. He came back to her, helping her out of her dress, then her bikini.

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Mishca helped her to her feet, walking them both into the stall, the heat of the water falling from the shower head above them, soothing her aching muscles. On one of the built-in stone benches, she relaxed, observing him, appreciating the view, cataloguing the tattoos that covered him. The stars on his chest, the epaulettes on his shoulders, the rising sun and line of script on his forearm, and both crosses were familiar to her, ones that represented his life within the Bratva, but there was a relatively new one that was on his opposite arm that was devoid of any connection to the others. It was placed on his inner bicep, in a place easily hidden by the suits he wore daily, but she preferred it that way. Lauren liked them having something to themselves, apart from the Bratva and more than that, she liked what it represented. The tattoo was of a pocket watch, his artist adding in hints of gold, the only color

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that Mishca had in all of his tattoos. The clock was set at twenty minutes before eight o’ clock, the exact time in which they met. Of course, he would be the one to remember something as insignificant as that. One would think that after he had taken the leading role in the Bratva, he would have put on weight, but not Mishca. He was as fit as he’d always been, maybe more so. The muscles along his back and chest rippled as he washed away the day and she almost pinched herself when he turned to smile back at her, knowing that he was all hers. Reaching a hand out to her, he pulled her to his side, reaching for the small shampoo bottle that had come with the place, squeezing some of it into her hair, carefully massaging it in with the pads of his fingers, drawing them through her hair. He didn’t stop with her hair, he cleaned all of her, his intentions pretty clear. Unlike

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the last few times together, he took it easy on her, gradually bringing her to heights she wasn’t used to. By the time they were out and dried off, she really was exhausted and couldn’t bring herself to move again for the rest of the night after she fell asleep.

CHAPTER EIGHT It was amazing how time flied while they were in Sardinia, not that any of that time had gone to waste. They explored the city, shopped, checked out the beaches, and went hiking, taking pictures of everything, at least that part was left up to Lauren. Tonight was their last night in Sardinia, and they had spent it eating dinner, drinking plenty of the local wine. Instead of driving back to the house immediately, they took a

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walk, laughing, talking, reminiscing on the time they spent together. This was going particularly well, until Lauren caught sight of someone walking towards them. She knew the moment Mishca’s hand flexed at her back that this man, whoever he was, wasn’t just a random tourist. No, he was far too impeccably dressed for that. Not to mention the two men trailing him. For a moment, panic was building inside of her, not knowing what they might do, until three men came out of nowhere, intercepting their path. The relief she felt flooded her, but so did the anger. To keep from striking out at him, she gripped her clutch tighter, forcing the smile to stay in place as she extracted her hand from his. Mishca looked down at her, his expression not giving anything away. “A moment.” With the slightest of nods, Lauren stepped to the side, going over to stand

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closer to the water, not far enough that she couldn’t see them, but far enough that she wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation. Whatever this was about, she didn’t think she wanted to know. She didn’t think Mishca could have possibly known about this impromptu meeting, though he’d had to have had some inclination since he obviously hired security. The last couple of days had been amazing, had been everything she had wanted. Anonymity. Normality. Lauren couldn’t think of the last time they had spent time together and it had been as innocent as this. No constant phone calls, no secret meetings in the dead of night, and most importantly, none of the constant fear that she would wake up and something would be wrong or someone was dead. But this was what she had signed up for, not that regretted that choice.

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Foolishly, she had thought he would be able to keep his promise of not bringing his work with them, but instead of focusing on that, she looked down at her left hand, twisting her ring, staring down at the large sapphire in the cent, smaller diamonds surrounding it. She knew it had once belonged to his mother, a woman she hadn’t gotten a chance to meet, and she knew the significance of what it stood for to him, but tonight, unlike many other nights, it felt heavy on her finger. “Ready?” Lauren spun around, looking up into Mishca’s eyes as he rejoined her by the railing. The apology was clear in his eyes, and it was obvious he was waiting for her to call him on it, but she just wasn’t in the mood. At least, not yet. By the time they reached the car, the security already having gone back to their

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invisible perches, and took the long journey back to the villa, her anger had only festered. *** Mishca had barely killed the engine before Lauren was snapping off her seatbelt, forcing the door open as she climbed out and slammed it behind her. He was right behind her, calling her name, and the only thing that made her anger worse was the fact that he had the keys so instead of just being able to let herself in, she had to wait for him. “Lauren, I know—” “Open the door.” He moved to do what she asked, but he took his time about it Lauren snatched her hand away. “I’m not mad because they’re here, whoever the hell they are, I’m upset because you should have told me. If I did go somewhere without you and I think I’m alone, here they are…just, stop trying to protect me all the time, Mish. I’m not your child.”

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To keep from doing something—or saying something—she’d regret, Lauren turned her back and headed towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Pulling the rubber band free from her hair, running her fingers through it before reaching for a face cloth to wash the makeup off. She could hear Mishca in the bedroom, but she didn’t bother calling out to him, not that there was anything left to say now. Because she was upset with him, she sat on the sink counter, taking her time, painstakingly getting every bit of mascara off her lashes and the liner along her eyes. Her shoes came off next, then—instead of calling to Mishca as she normally would—she unzipped her dress, letting it fall around her feet on the floor. Taking a moment to herself, she sat in there for as long as she could, until she could no longer stall. Hitting the light, she walked out, immediately catching sight of Mishca in bed, an

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arm thrown over his eyes.The only light in the bedroom that was on was the lamp on his bedside table, and though his body tensed when she came out, he didn’t say anything to her. Unlike their first night, the doors to the balcony were closed, the curtains drawn. Pretending not to notice, she walked around the bed, sliding in until she could just feel his presence beside her. Getting comfortable on her side of the bed, she yanked the covers over her body, facing the opposite wall. Seconds ticked by and Mishca didn’t try to break the silence between them. There was enough moonlight spilling into the room to break through the darkness after Mishca turned out the light. For a while, they just laid like that, at least until Mishca shifted, turning onto his side as he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her into his side. He kept his hand on her stomach, slowing drifting the pads of

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his fingers from the edge of her bra to her navel and back up again. Reaching for his hand, she held it still, keeping it pressed flat against her stomach. “Should I be worried?” He didn’t hesitate in answering. “No.” She didn’t make him repeat his answer, nor promise that his remark was true, knowing that if it was critical, he would tell her. …But also because she wasn’t sure what his promises were worth anymore. *** “If random men are going to be stopping us on the street, I think I should carry a gun,” Lauren said the next morning over coffee. Mishca didn’t respond immediately, trying to decide how best to do it. She was angry with him, that much she could best to do it. She was angry with him, that much he could tell since the moment Gavin approached them last night, though at that time she had

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seemed more resigned towards the situation than upset. Now, she was either trying to get a rise out of him, was serious, or maybe both, but there was a clear spark in her eyes that promised she was not in a joking mood. “Klaus took me to a shooting range a few weeks ago, brush up on my skills.” —And probably did it to piss Mishca off, but he didn’t bother mentioning that part.— “And Celt—you remember Celt?—he has this pearl-handled .22 that he’s willing to hand over for a price. What do you think?” She sat her mug on the table, blinking over at him, smiling innocently, as though she didn’t know—or did and just didn’t care—that he didn’t like the idea of her spending time with them. Mishca was dangerously close to shattering the mug in his own hand. “Do you make it a habit to spend time with mercenaries?”

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“Only when I’m not with the Russian Bratva. At least I’m not worried about the two of them killing me.” His cup hit the table so hard, even she gave a little jump. “I thought we were past this.” “I thought we were past you lying to me. Yet here we are, you withholding information because you think it’s what’s best.” He shook his head. “You were not in any danger—” “But how do you know? What more has to happen?” “Nothing is going to happen to you!” For a second, he regretted raising his voice, but Lauren didn’t shrink away from him, an eerie-like calmness seemed to take her over. “And what if something happens to you? Mish, you put your life in your men’s hands, but you don’t trust me to have your back. Unless Luka is at your back, I worry. The men that are at your back now, I don’t trust

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them not to shoot you themselves let alone put you in a situation where someone else will.” His brow furrowed as he studied her, hearing the genuine fear there. “That’s why you’ve been wanting Klaus to agree to work for me by shadowing you…so Luka can stay with me.” “They’re the only two I trust to keep you alive, and before you say it, if Klaus really wanted to kill you, he would have done it by now.” “Come to me.” She didn’t hesitate. Despite his frustration, it drained out of him as he wrapped his arms around her. “You worry too much.” “I learned to the hard way.” He couldn’t deny that. She pulled back, just enough so that she was looking down at him. “You have to stop trying to protect me, Mish, because last night when it was just us,

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who was going to protect you? I’ve been kidnapped, Mish and it’s not fun. I want to be able to protect myself in the rare chance that you can’t.” Though he didn’t want to admit it, she was right about him constantly trying to keep her safe by deciding what was best, even if his choices weren’t always the best thing. Conceding, he pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “I’ll set it up.” Another kiss. “And you’re only using it when absolutely necessary. Would you like it in pink?” Laughing earnestly at the blatant sarcasm in his voice, Lauren said, “I doubt the person on the other end will care what color the gun is when I’m aiming it at them.” *** Their last night in Sardinia was slowly coming to an end. Spending another day exploring, Lauren had moved past the anger she’d felt at Mishca that morning, thinking

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that after everything she had said to him, she had made her point. She was currently laying on the bed outside, watching as Mishca swam laps in the infinity pool. He moved fluently through the water. Having been in there for the last half hour, she wondered what had been on his mind after he’d taken a mysterious phone call right before. By the time he swam over to the edge, hefting himself out as he grabbed the towel that she had placed there for him and wrapping it around his waist, his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he joined her on the bed, kissing her hip as he made himself more comfortable, horizontal to her. “Something on your mind, Mish?” He was quiet for so long that she really began to worry, trying to read his expression as she sat up, reaching for him. “Things are going to get ugly very soon,” he said, though it didn’t really sound like he

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was talking to her, more like speaking his thoughts aloud. “Why do you think that?” His eyes roamed her face, taking in her expression, and maybe because he was trying to ease the fear inside of her, he smiled. “It will work out, I’m sure.” “I want you to remember something, Lauren because I’m sure, you will think I don’t in the upcoming months.” “Anything…” “I love you.” “I know that, Mish.” “And I love my sister, and I’ll do anything I have to to protect the both of you. Even if I have to make sacrifices to do so. Do you get this?” “There’s something you’re not telling me, Mish. I’m not going to freak out—much. You can tell me.” He sighed, kissing her forehead and she knew, despite her request, he wouldn’t be

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telling her anything more. And while they laid together under the stars on the last night of their honeymoon, she wondered what they would be walking into when they got back home.

CHAPTER NINE 6 weeks later… At three in the morning, the streets of Manhattan were still bustling, though not nearly as busy as it usually was during the day. While most were asleep at this unreasonable hour, Lauren was hunched over a toilet, dry heaving since there was very little left in her to throw up. She had been in this position for a little more than ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity as she kneeled on the

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cool tiles, purging everything from her stomach. When she was sure that she was done—or was able to move without that churning feeling in her stomach—Lauren slowly got to her feet, going over to the sink to splash water on her face and brush her teeth, breathing deeply through her nose, more than glad that the nausea was passing. Her hands were shaking just slightly, a light sheen of sweat on her face and sticking the shirt she wore to her back, but it was more because of her nerves than anything else. That, she was sure of. When she and Mishca had returned from Sardinia weeks ago, things had went from good to better, especially since things had been pretty quiet around Mishca. Since she was practically helping run one of the clubs, Lauren had chalked her fatigue up to the hectic work schedule, but now…she didn’t

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think so, especially when that nausea grew worse. Of course, she had wanted to say it was something she had ate, but from what she’d read about food poisoning, it’s symptoms weren’t anything like what she was going through, and it definitely didn’t last for weeks at a time. Besides, she was hardly eating in the first place. A sneaking suspicion had hit her when that first wave of nausea hit, like an instance, but she dismissed it just as quickly, knowing that it wasn’t possible considering she was on birth control. …Then, at the first thought of that little pill she was meant to take daily, she thought of their lost luggage…and the fact that they had been tucked away in the side pouch of her bag. She had been meaning to refill her order since then, but she had forgotten all about it until a few weeks ago.

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Lauren wanted to ignore her symptoms, hoping that it would pass, but after tonight—another night spent on the floor of the bathroom—she had no other choice. She had to know for sure. Dressing in a pair of sweatpants, along with a light jacket, she grabbed her keys, closing the bedroom door behind her as she exited. “Heading out?” She nearly jumped a foot in the air at Alik’s question, surprised by his casual presence in her home. He was stretched out on the couch, Timberland boots placed on the floor neatly beside where he sat. The TV was on, a movie playing that she didn’t recognize, the volume so low that he couldn’t possibly have been paying it much attention. Lauren glanced around, her hand tightening on the strap of her bag as she contemplated what to do next. “What are you doing here?”

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“It’s Thursday.” He didn’t have to explain what he meant. Though the monthly meeting between the bosses was usually held during the day, Mishca had a habit of switching things up now, never holding the meeting in the same place, nor during the same hours. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.” “Your boss asked my boss for a favor. I’m just following directions.” “Right. Okay then…” “What can I do for you?” Lauren shook her head. “Nothing, I’m just going to the store—” He shrugged, already reaching for his boots to pull on. “Let’s go.” She didn’t think it was in her best interest to argue with him, so instead of arguing, she waited for him to finish lacing up his shoes and followed him onto the elevator.

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Despite the fact that the street was nearly deserted, Alik stuck close to her side, his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans.There was a small bodega at the corner, the beaming sign at the top of the window still on. There was a girl, on older than Lauren, behind the front counter, her attention on the book she was reading. Lauren scanned the hanging boards above the aisles, spotting the one she needed to browse. She looked over to Alik. “Can I shop by myself?” “You got five minutes.” She didn’t have to ask what he would be doing in the mean time. With those parting words, he headed towards the front counter. Lauren went to aisle seven, scanning the countless rows of tests. Price varies, some promising result in less than three minutes, others promising to even tell how far along she was.

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As she perused them, she couldn’t help but think of all the times she had passed this aisle in various tors, never paying them any mind. Not because she didn’t think she could get pregnant, but because she hadn’t even thought of having kids this young. Plucking a few—or ten—off the shelves, she carried them to the front counter, wishing she could send Alik off somewhere so she could do this in private. The girl behind the counter was so engrossed by Alik that she didn’t even notice Lauren’s presence as she walked up, at least not until she placed the tests on the counter. The girl looked between Alik and her, then down to Lauren’s rings and Alik’s notably absent ones. If Alik’s smirk was anything to go by, he knew exactly what she was thinking, but didn’t bother to correct her assumption. It took no time at all for them to get rang up, and once they were done and back at her place, Alik made himself scarce

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while Lauren locked herself away in the bathroom. For the next two hours, she took every test she bought, alternately guzzling water and checking each one. At the first positive, she shook her head, refusing to believe it. The second, the first tremor of something stirred to life in her chest. The third? Her hands were shaking. The fifth, sixth, and through the tenth, he was utterly convinced that this many tests couldn’t be wrong. By the time she was done, Lauren was sniffling, not entirely sure why she was crying, only that she knew this would change everything, and at the moment, she wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not. There was a knock at the door, followed by the sound of someone trying to open the door. “Lauren?”

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The sound of Mishca’s voice brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes as she squeezed her eyes shut. The sticks were still spread out in front of her on the floor. Just the thought of them, knowing that he was about to see them at any moment, made her anxiety increase. What would he say? What would he think? Would he be happy? Or would he be upset? “Lauren?” He was growing impatient, his next knock not as gentle as the first. “Alik got a message to me. Open the door.” Gathering up the tests, Lauren held them in one had as she went over to the door, opening it slowly, her heart in her throat. At the first sight of her, the concern on his face deepened, his hands reaching to cup her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “Tell me.” As she met his gaze, she was struck by a curious thought, speaking it aloud. “I always

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found your eyes interesting. Do you think if he had a child, they would have your eyes?” He tucked an errant strand of her hair behind her ear, trying his best not to look confused. “O chem ty govorish’—What are you taking about?” Lauren didn’t have to answer because in the next second, his eyes drifted down to what she held, his brows drawing together as he gently pulled them from her hand. As soon as he read the first one, every emotion, every nuisance of a reaction vanished from his face. He read them one by one—as she had—placing them down on the counter once he was finished. “I—” He swallowed, his gaze going from the tests to her stomach, his expression still unreadable. “Oh.” He seemed genuinely at a loss for words, making her heart hammer faster. She couldn’t tell whether he was upset by the news, but explained herself anyway. “My

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birth control was in my bag, the one that got lost when we were in Sardinia. I forgot all about it while we were there…I don’t really know how to explain this and—” “Lyubov’ moya—My love. Stop.” His words were gentle as he drew he into his arms. “Mish, I—” “Lauren, stop. Don’t apologize to me.” “Then what do I say?” She said pulling free from him. “I’m supposed to start med school in January. You have the Bratva to think about. I don’t know what—” He kissed her suddenly, carefully cutting off her protests. Beneath him, she calmed, her hands going to his chest, curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, feeling heartbeat beneath her fists. “We’re fine.” “But Mish, I’m pregnant.” It was the first time she said the words, and the first time she fully acknowledged it,

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and yet, while the fear of the unknown was there, there was also a trace of excitement within her, and judging from the slowly blooming smile on Mishca’ face, it was inside of him too. “I see this.” He reached down, his hand sliding beneath her shirt, over the span of her stomach, rubbing at a non-existent bump. “No matter what happens,” he went on, his chin resting on top of her head, his words a whisper. “I will never let anything happen to you or the baby, even if I have to have Niklaus and his team shadow you.” Laughing earnestly, she shook her head. “He would never agree to that.” “We’ll see, but for now, I don’t want you to worry about anything. We will figure it out. We always do.” “Ya tebya lyublyu—I love you.” He kissed both of her cheeks, then her forehead. “I love you too.”

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She smiled up at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. The future was more uncertain than ever, but in that moment, she refused to think of what could possibly go wrong, and chose to focus on the present. “Until the end?” His smile was slow, but sure as he inclined his head. “Until the end.”

CHAPTER TEN First and foremost, I would like to thank all of my readers, your love for Mishca and Lauren’s story continues to astound me each and everyday. Without you, the Volkov Bratva Series would not be what it is today. H, you continue to be my greatest support and I couldn’t imagine being half of the person I am without you. In the Beginning, was dedicated to you for a reason, and it’s

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only right that you’re mentioned at the end of this book as well. As a bonus to my readers, I’ve added a link to a bonus scene that can be unlocked on my website. The password is: mishca. The next installment in the Volkov Bratva Series will be Valon: What Once Was, a prequel to Hidden Monsters, and Luka’s origin story. Look for that in the near future. LM Link to Bonus Scene: http://londonmillerauthor.com/2014/11/ 03/bonus-scene/

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