In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(37)

“And I see you’ve brought a plus one?”

Despite her apprehension, Lauren smiled, extending her hand as Mishca made the introductions. “Anya, this is Lauren Thompson. Lauren, my step-mother Anya.”

Anya shot Mishca a disapproving scowl and Lauren assumed that she was upset by his use of ‘step-mother.’ Though it looked like it pained her, Anya took her hand, shaking it for a second before dropping it in the excuse of grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing tray.

“Is my father here?” Mishca asked wrapping his arm around Lauren’s waist.

“He couldn’t make it. I’ll be sure to let him know you were able to attend.”

And judging from her expression, she would also be telling him about Lauren’s presence. It was odd the way she was acting. She was trying her best to be cordial, but Lauren could see that she was blatantly studying her, like she was searching for something, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what it was.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Anya said politely, turning for a group of men wearing tuxedos. Before Alex followed her, she rolled her eyes dramatically, shooting a conspiratorial wink at Lauren.

***

Socializing with New York’s elite was exhausting. Some made it a point to exclude her from conversations, excusing it by continuously asking, ‘what’s your name again dear?’ Lauren couldn’t understand why anyone actually enjoyed these events.

Mishca had ventured off a moment ago, in search of a restroom, leaving Lauren alone in front of a painting that she was actually familiar with. She read the little white card attached to a miniature podium just to be sure.

The soft click of heels was the only inclination that someone had joined her.

“It is one of the best here, is it not?” Anya asked sipping her champagne. “Though I am not sure what all you would know about fine art.”

Her tone was practically dripping with condescension and though Lauren was rather passive when it came to this sort of thing, she felt a need to prove she could handle their crowd. Not for Anya, but because she realized that if she wanted to be with Mishca, she would have to show them that she was not to be looked over.

She raised her chin, taking a sip of her champagne. “I thought it was rather good. Perhaps it’s the post-modernist brushwork that I like, but I think Gustav Klimt is still my all time favorite.”

Lauren had to admit, a thrill shot through her at Anya’s surprised expression. She tried to hide it, taking a sip of her champagne, but Lauren was pleased.

“Are you torturing my date?” Mishca asked reappearing.

“No,” Anya said not looking away from Lauren, like she was trying to see past the surface. “In fact, we were discussing this piece. Perhaps not all Americans are barbaric in their knowledge of fine art.” She smiled at Lauren though it didn’t reach her eyes. “We’ll speak again soon.”

She moved on and the mood lightened with her departure. Lauren bit her lip, fighting to keep her amusement contained as she waited for Anya to get out of hearing distance, but Mishca wasn’t helping as he folded his arms across her chest, looking impressed.

“Does she know your expertise is on account of an hour and a half long class?”

She held her glass up in cheers. “And the barbaric Americans have the last laugh.”

***

It was finally time for the performance and Lauren was excited, more so as Alex began explaining the complicated maneuvers she would be seeing. They had some of the best seats in the house, located in the Chairman’s Box, where the president would be seated whenever he chose to attend the opera.

Anya and Alex sat together, while Lauren and Mishca sat in the front corner, Mishca taking the aisle seat.

A waiter brought another round of pink champagne, coupled with fresh strawberries. Lauren accepted hers with a soft thanks, chiming bells beginning to echo around the hall.

The flickering lights on the chandeliers dimmed and the soft chatter coming from down below silenced as spotlights turned on and centered on the stage. Lauren set her glass down as the maroon and gold curtains parted, men dressed in elaborate costumes moved fluidly across the stage as act one began.

Since this was her first ballet, she appreciated the experience so much more than people who had seen dozens of these. With each jump, pirouette, or leaps across the stage, she grew more enthralled. The ballet dancers made it appear simple as they balanced on the tips of their toes though it would probably hurt like hell for anyone that was trying it for the first time.

She felt Mishca’s arm brush hers as he rested it on the armrest between the two of them, looking casually sophisticated as he watched the ballet unfold. Lauren had been anxious about attending, not sure how well she would fit in, but now she had zero regrets about accepting the invitation.

Slipping her hand into his, she gave him a tentative smile as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his mouth tipping up into a grin as he squeezed her hand in response.

They stayed for the entire performance, and at the end, Lauren was in tears, watching the dancers weave tales with their movements. As the curtains closed, Lauren clapped, occasionally wiping away a stray tear.

“You’re almost as bad as Alex,” Mishca said looking over to where Alex was on her feet, probably clapping the loudest.

“That’s because she gets it,” Alex responded looking back at them. “You’re too much of a guy.”