In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(25)

She thought about her classes, her new friends, and the particularly fascinating guy sitting in front of her. “It was. What part of Russia are you from?”

“Moscow.”

“Do you go back often?”

“I still have family there, but I don’t go back as much as I would like.”

“Have—”

“I believe it’s my turn and I get two questions, yes?”

Rolling her eyes playfully, she nodded.

“What are you studying?”

“I thought about Pre-med for a while,”—an homage to her father—“but I’m undecided at the moment.”

“Pre-med?” He looked impressed. “Why didn’t you choose that?”

This time, she didn’t smile. “I plead the fifth.”

He gazed at her for a while before nodding, accepting it. “Fair enough.”

“How many languages do you speak?”

“Fluently? Three, but I can read Latin.” He shrugged as if that were some small feat.

Their main courses arrived, the waiters clearing away their used dishes, but they continued on with their questions.

“What can you speak?”

“Russian and English, you know. I also speak French.”

“Can I hear you speak it?”

Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he never broke eye contact as he said, “J’aimerais vraiment à vous metro dans moon lit.”

Goosebumps erupted over her arms and when she thought him speaking Russian was an experience, him speaking French topped that.

“What did you say?”

“I said I think you look beautiful.”

He looked down, but she could just see his smile. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“You’ll never know.”

They went on like this for hours, even after they had finished eating. They stayed at the table, asking each other every question they could think of, and then more. Time flew by and unconsciously, they had drawn closer to one another, leaning towards each other. It was only when Lauren noticed the last couple inside heading towards the exit did she realize that they were the last ones.

“I think they’re closed,” she said with a smile.

Mishca paid their tab, giving her an outraged look when she offered to split the bill. Instead, he told her, “When you ask me out, then you can pay…and that’s still highly debatable.”

Outside the restaurant, the stars shining in the night sky, Lauren looked to Mishca who was watching her.

“Want to go to the park?”

It seemed even he wasn’t ready for the night to end.

Intertwining their hands, he led her across the street to the park, still explaining his ideas for the club until they reached a secluded pot beneath a giant oak tree, in direct view of the Alice in Wonderland statue. Shrugging out of his jacket, he laid it out on the ground for her to sit on before sinking down beside her.

“What was your first date like?” He asked reclining back against the tree.

“I can’t answer that,” she said. Technically, this was her first date and it wasn’t over yet. “I’m forcing that one on you.”

He grinned, looking away. “I was fifteen, attending a boarding school—my step mother thought it was best though I came back the following year. Her name was Olivia Janis, you never forget their names. She was a year older, though you wouldn’t have known that by looking at her. She was older in demeanor. Everyone at the academy thought she was the greatest girl there.”

“Sounds like she was pretty awesome.”

“Oh wait,” he said shaking his head. “It gets better. I thought I was somebody because of my father’s money and, uh resources. I was sure that by the end of the night, she would be coming back to my rooms.”

Lauren wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”

He rolled his eyes. “Back then I was desperate to get laid.”

She thought of Rebecca and the number of girls she had seen whispering about him. “I guess you’re not desperate now?”

He smirked, shooting her a wink. “We’ll get to that in a second. Anyway, I take her bowling of all things—I’m a terrible bowler. We’re having a good time when this hulk of a man is making his way to our lane. At first I’m thinking he’s just passing, but what I didn’t know was that Olivia liked to date older guys and this one was her ex-boyfriend.”

Mishca’s is silently laughing now, his eyes growing animated as he tells the story. “I was scrawny little guy back then and the last thing I wanted was to fight this guy, but I had to stand my ground. The beating from my father would have been worse than his if he heard that I had backed down. He’s yelling at Olivia, and I walked over to him, still holding a nine pound bowling ball. I say, ‘hey, leave her alone.’ Then get creative, cursing him in Russian, thinking he won’t understand shit I’m saying. Turns out, his mother is Russian or something and he can understand everything I’m saying to him which, of course, pisses him off more. So, what do I do? I try to back up, slip, and drop the f*cking ball on my foot.”

Lauren covered her mouth as a giggle escaped, but he didn’t seem too embarrassed by the story.

“My foot is f*cking killing me, but in my head, he’s still after me. I’m telling myself, get up, get up. I try to, but my foot gives out and I stumble over my own damn ball—the same one I dropped on my foot—and I land awkwardly, knocking the breath out of me.”