In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(24)

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he said with a wink.

They were led out onto the terrace of the restaurant, a single table occupying it. A clear glass bowl sat on top of it, tea candles and white rose petals floating in the water. Once they were seated, the concierge wandered off, but returned soon after, carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Compliments of the house, sir,” he said displaying the worn label of the bottle proudly.

Mishca nodded in approval and with expert precision, the cork was plucked—a trick that Lauren was determined to learn—and menus distributed.

“And to think I asked you for id,” Lauren joked as the waiters excused themselves.

“My father and I come here often. I’m a familiar face.”

“Is that why we’re getting the special treatment?”

“Or maybe because you look amazing in that dress.”

She smiled. “Smooth, Mish. Very smooth.” She picked up her menu, looking over the different selections. “What do you recommend?”

“Vegetarian?”

“No.”

“Vegan?”

“I’ll eat just about anything. Except snails, I can’t bring myself to eat them.”

He shuddered. “Tried it, hated it.” He closed his menu, leaning forward. “Do you want to hear a secret?”

Intrigued, she matched his stare. “Sure.”

“I’ve only ever ordered the steak.”

“Seriously? How many times have you been here?”

He laughed. “I have no idea. More times than I can count.”

The waiter returned.”What can I start you all with this evening?”

Mishca handed back his menu. “I’ll have my usual.”

“Very good, sir. And for the lady?”

“I’ll have the caesar salad and the stuffed chicken with the sides of the day.”

“Right away.” He took their menus and gave a slight bow.

“What say you to a friendly game while we wait,” Mishca said, taping his thumb against the table as he reclined back in his chair.

Lauren arched a brow. “Oh? What kind of game?”

“Twenty-one questions.”

“What are the rules?”

“There are rules?”

“There are always rules.”

“Hmm.” Steepling his fingers, he rested his elbows on the table, gazing at her. “You can skip a question—but you have to answer it later in the game. You can plead the fifth, but you forfeit your turn. And you can force the other person to answer the question. Agreed?”

He had a sneaky grin that made her wonder what she had just gotten herself involved in. “Agreed. Ladies first, right?” He smirked, but inclined his head. “You’re twenty-four, right? I think I remember that from your license.”

He nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Right, how old are you?”

She shrugged, looking down at her plate to hide her smile. “Seventeen. I graduated early.” She laughed when he paled, his eyes going wide, choking on his wine. “Twenty. I took a year off after I graduated.”

“Good to know,” he said still trying to clear his throat.

Their appetizers were delivered a few minutes later, Lauren’s salad drizzled in dressing, for Mishca, a baked potato and a miniature salad.

Taking a bite, he asked, “Are you seeing anyone, besides myself of course.”

She laughed. “I wasn’t aware that I was seeing you yet.”

“There it is, you said it. Yet. It’s only a matter of time.”

“What about Rebecca?” Lauren asked looking down her plate as she stabbed a crouton. “Does she know you’re here with me?”

“We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“No? What kind of relationship do you have?”

“I wouldn’t consider it a relationship at all. We had sex.” She coughed, water going down the wrong pipe. At her look, he smiled and shook his head. “It was only once and that’s all it was supposed to be.”

“So you had sex with her then took her out on a date where you blatantly flirted with me…”

He cleared his throat, rubbing his jaw. “Not in so many words.”

“Uh huh. So are we skipping the sex, or is that for after the date?”

A corner of his mouth tipped up, giving him that charming little smile that made her smile in return. He reached across the table to cover her hand with his, the warmth of his touch seeping through her. “Not my initial idea, but I would love to get you in my bed.”

Now, it was Lauren’s turn to clear her throat, sliding her hand from beneath his. “If not for sex, why did you ask me out?”

“Because I wanted to know more than your favorite type of coffee?”

She smiled. “Is that a question?”

“That’s a statement. I wanted to know you better.” The nearby waiter refilled their glasses, asking if there was anything else he could get them. They both declined. “Why NYU?”

She shrugged. “I wanted to get out of Michigan. I’ve never been out of the state before so I thought, why not? I didn’t actually expect to get in, but here I am.”

“And what do you think? Was it worth it?”