In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(19)

With him gone, she breathed deeply, turning her attention to the one person she hadn’t been expecting to see tonight. His eyes were still on the disappearing man, at least until he was well enough away that he was appeased.

Then he turned those blue eyes on her, not seeming to care that he was in her personal space, but who was she to complain? It wasn’t like she was making any effort to get away from him.

Se held her clutch with both hands, looking up at him. He really was tall. “Thanks.”

Mishca inclined his head, his serious expression melting away. “Not a problem.”

“Of course you’re here of all places,” she said fishing for an explanation. She really hoped he wasn’t one of those guys and considering most phones had GPS tracking nowadays, he could very well have tracked her here.

“It might help,” he said fighting a smile, “that I own the club. I might be inclined to think you came here for me.”

She might have called bullshit, at least until a group of people walking by gushed about the new renovations he had made. Her cheeks colored as he winked at her.

“I didn’t know,” she said quickly, “that this was your club, I mean. You don’t really look like a club owner?”

“Oh? And what do club owners look like?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Sleazy?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Right.” She glanced back over her shoulder, trying to see her table. “I should get going.”

“Wait.” He touched her hand, that familiar warmth that radiated out of him making her shiver. “I wanted to apologize again for the other night. Sometimes favors become more than you plan for.”

“S’alright. Misunderstanding?”

He smiled and nodded. “Can I walk you back to your table?”

“Sure.”

The crowd seemed to part easily now that Mishca was with her, making the trip back a lot smoother. She could just see the tops of her friends’ heads when Mishca pulled her to a stop.

“Will you be at the cafe Monday?” He asked.

“More than likely.”

“Perhaps I’ll see you there, then we can talk.”

Inside, she was thrilled at the prospect, but she kept her cool, playing coy. “What if I don’t want to talk to you?”

“Then I’ll be greatly disappointed. How will I ever make amends if you refuse to see me?”

She laughed. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Sudden shouting broke out on the other side of the floor near the bar. Mishca jerked the walkie-talkie from his belt, barking what sounded like orders in Russian.

“Until Monday, yes?”

“I’ll see you then.”

With a wink and a quick kiss to her hand—the gesture always making her swoon inside—he was off, leaving Lauren to look after hi for several seconds before returning to her booth where everyone was waiting.

Piper actually looked astonished as she regarded her, asking, “You know Mishca Volkov?”

It reminded her of the way Rebecca acted back at Diego’s. “Um, yea?” to Amber, she said, “That’s the guy I was telling you about.”

Amber laughed, much to the bemusement of their friends. “If he’s the reason that girl spilled food on you, hey, toss some on me too.”





Chapter seven:


Amends


Sunday night, Lauren couldn’t sleep. Every time she looked over at the glowing red numbers on her alarm clock, her heart raced just a little bit faster. What would she say when she saw him?

She could make a big scene, throw the money in his face to make sure she got her point across, but that wasn’t who she was. She wished she was tough, and could speak her mind the way she wanted without always biting her tongue to keep her feelings to herself.

Would he even care? Sure, he was the one that said he would be there, but what she couldn’t figure out was why all of the interest in her? It’s not like he had a hard time attracting attention—just look at him—but she seemed to be the focus and she didn’t know whether to be thrilled by this, or suspicious.

He seemed interested enough when they were at his club, but she had a habit of reading too far into things without any good evidence.

Rolling over, Lauren shut her eyes, wishing she could calm her racing thoughts so that she could go to sleep. At this rate, she’d be up half the night going over the different possibilities.

Ten minutes passed…fifteen…twenty. Sighing, she finally got up, grabbing her throw blanket to watch television in the living room. If she was going to be up all night, she would at least spend it watching a movie.

To her surprise, Amber was in the living room, sitting on the windowsill, staring up at the night sky, looking between her current painting and the starry night she was replicating. She looked exhausted, her usual abundance of energy lacking.

“Hey, what are you doing up?” Lauren asked.

She tried for a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I couldn’t sleep. It seems like the only thing I can do right nowadays is paint.”

Foregoing the television, Lauren gave Amber her undivided attention. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She sighed, dropping her brushes in water, setting the canvas on the easel. “I’ll get the ice cream.”