In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(22)

She met his eyes, the sparkle in them making him smile “I’m not going on a date with you.”

Seriously? Mishca couldn’t remember the last time someone had turned down a night out with him. “Why not? I make excellent company.”

She mumbled something he couldn’t hear, but he wasn’t going to give up that easily. He always did like challenges.

“What do you say? I can show you I’m not all bad.”

Lauren shook her head, adjusting the strap of her bag as she looked just past him to the door. “I never said you were.”

He arched a brow. “Then that is a yes?”

“No,” she said laughing. “That’s a no.”

“Ah, come on Lauren. You’re breaking my heart.” He touched a hand to his chest, pouting like she had taken away his favorite puppy.

She smiled shyly. “I have class, Mishca.”

He knew she wouldn’t be changing her mind today, but he had never been one to give up easily.

Taking her hand, he kissed the back of her knuckles. “Ty khochesh', chtoby presledovat' vas?” He asked in Russian, watching her eyes dilate, her fingers trembling.

He smiled. If she did want him to chase her, he would.

***

Lauren had actually thought that if she avoided him, or feigned disinterest, Mishca would lose interest in her, but if anything, he grew more determined. He dutifully walked her to class every Monday and Wednesday, though he didn’t ask her out again, he didn’t mask his interest in her. It was the subtle things he did that had her defenses crumbling. The way he was attentive to everything she said, how he always, even if he had just seen her a few hours prior, kissed her hand. It seemed, at this point, he was just waiting for her to cave.

But she quickly learned that it was hard not to like Mishca. He was charming, often having her keel over in laughter during their short walks, and every morning when she arrived, he was there waiting for her with a special cup of coffee just for her. She had begun looking forward to it, excited to see his wry smile and the warm blue of his eyes.

It was a slow Wednesday night at Diego’s, work passing at an agonizing pace as Lauren and Tara stuck to the kitchens, laughing with the chefs since the restaurant was all but empty.

“Well, look who it is,” Tara suddenly said, her attention suddenly snagged by something outside the kitchen windows.

Lauren frowned, following Tara’s line of vision to the bar where none other than Mishca was seated, chatting amicably with Diego. She ignored the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach, not wanting to believe that he was actually there because of her, but as Diego pointed towards the kitchen doors, Lauren shrank back, her heartbeat escalating.

“I guess it’s safe to assume that someone has a thing for the infamous Volkov.”

“I don’t.” She really did.

Tara was still looking through the glass. “Diego is coming back here.”

“What!”

Sure enough, Diego appeared seconds later, looking positively cheerful as he stuck his head on, his gaze zeroing in on Lauren.

“I have a guest asking for you, Lauren.”

“No, thanks. Send Tara.”

Diego whispered something to Tara. “Sorry, L. I’m on break.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I am. You like him, which means that I’m supposed to act in your best interest.”

“Fine. I’ll send him away on my own.”

Holding her head high—ignoring the soft laughter of her coworkers—Lauren headed for the bar, reminding herself that she was not going to go on a date with him, no matter what he said or—he turned to her when she was just a few feet away, his eyes sparkling with happiness and she knew she was a goner. Damn those blue eyes.

“Hi, Mishca. What can I get you?” She was glad that her voice wasn’t as shaky as she felt.

“I would like to think that you and I are friends, no?”

She shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe.”

“And in my country, you take your friends out for a good time.”

Lauren walked right into that one. Time for a cop out. “I would love to, but Diego has me working the weekend shift, and you know I have classes during the week.”

“Don’t worry L,” Tara said as she appeared at the end of the bar where she and Diego were doing an awful job pretending not to eavesdrop. “I can take your shifts.”

Mishca looked back to Lauren with both eyebrows raised, looking boyish and charming. “What do you say? Will you have dinner with me?”

She was shaking her head, but her lips said, “Yes.”





Chapter Eight:


Date Night


“Piper can be a bit of a headache, but when she’s feeling generous, she always gives me the clothes that are too big for her,” Amber said as she reentered the room carrying a few garment bags.

Lauren had been freaking out about what to wear on her date and was about to throw on a pair of jeans when Amber had said she might have something.

The first dress was a slinky black number that made Lauren feel old than she was. Though it was nice, she didn’t feel strongly enough about it to wear it tonight.

The second was orange, with zigzagging white lines across the front, but what made Lauren hand that one back was the none existent back that dipped so low, it barely covered her butt.