In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(54)

Mikhail turned his attention to the bay windows as a car drove up. “It looks like your sister is here. Could you escort her in?”

Mishca hesitated, his eyes flickering to Lauren, but he ultimately stood and walked out without glancing back.

“You’ll have to excuse my son,” Mikhail said conversationally as he accepted his drink from Anya. “Love makes a man blind.”

She was momentarily taken aback by what he was saying. To be honest, she had never thought that they were there in their relationship.

“You don’t think so?” He asked reading her expression. “You are more important to him than you realize.”

***

Mishca was wound tight as he greeted his sister at the door, trying not to let his frustration show. Alex was just climbing out of the town car Mikhail had sent for her, without a care in the world as she was lost in whoever was texting her. Sensing, his arrival, she pointed to the back of the car.

“Would you grab my bags, Mish?” Alex asked staring down at her phone, completely oblivious to the fact that he was scowling at her.

“Why do you have so much shit? You’re only going to be here for a week.”

“Because, I’m going to stay at your place until I go back to school.” She rolled her eyes at him, like he had asked the most asinine question in the world.

Mishca lugged four of the six suitcases from the trunk of the town car, tossing them on the ground.

“Hey! That’s Prada.”

“Like I give a shit. Who told you could just invite yourself to my apartment?”

“What the hell’s your problem? You got daddy’s foot stuck up your ass?” She was smiling as she asked and at any other time, Mishca might have laughed, but he wasn’t in the mood.

He grabbed the last two cases. “I’m fine.”

“Where’s Lauren? Didn’t you say you were bringing her?”

“She’s in there with Mikhail and Anya.”

A knowing light entered her eyes. “Stop worrying so much. They won’t kill her behind your back.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you were dropped on the head as a child.”

Gathering up her luggage, he started for the door, stopping when she touched his arm.

“Seriously. She’ll be fine. Nothing is going to happen to her here. It’s only a week, what’s the worst that can happen?”

That made Mishca feel a little better, but he still could hear his father’s words in his mind, though the conversation had gone right over Lauren’s head.

She looks just like her father.

And she did. It baffled his mind that Mishca hadn't noticed it when he first met her, or maybe he did and he didn’t care to acknowledge it.

***

By the time Lauren and Mishca were coming down for dinner, after getting settled in their respective bedrooms, more people had converged in the foyer. They were all dressed formally, the women wearing expensive jewels—though not as lavish as the gala. In the last four months, Lauren thought with a shake of her head, she had dressed up more than in her entire life.

Mishca, with the air of authority that he seemed to always possess, introduced her to everyone, though some of the names went over her head, the Russian hard to keep track of.

Lauren had met new people on plenty of occasions and though sometimes it could be a little awkward, the mood of the room would eventually shift enough to make everyone comfortable. But not here. The atmosphere here felt strange, like everyone was on guard, but it was only around her. When they thought she wasn’t paying attention, they would blatantly stare at her, whispering in their language.

If she were going to be with Mishca, she was definitely going to have to change her foreign language from Latin to Russian.

Maybe, like Mikhail had said earlier, Mishca had never brought a girl home to meet his family before. It would explain all the odd looks she was getting. She didn’t know whether to feel special that was that important to him, or nervous that she wasn’t seeming to make a good impression.

As Anya announced that dinner was ready, they all crowded into the new room, seating themselves at the elegant dining table.

It was fitting of royalty with seating for dozens, each end stretching to either side of the room. Tall, red candles burned in the centerpiece precious china and silverware laid out in front of the sturdy looking chairs.

Mikhail sat at the head of the table, Anya seated to his right. Mishca led Lauren over to a pair of chairs to the left of Mikhail, but another man was preparing to sit there as well.

“Demetry, allow Mishca and Lauren to sit there,” Mikhail directed, stopping the man in his tracks.

Demetry didn’t question him, merely pulled out Lauren’s chair, then took the seat on her opposite side.

Once they were seated, just as he had done during the ballet, Mishca placed his hand on her thigh beneath the table, the warmth of his touch putting her at ease.

It seemed, everyone had gotten over their shock of Lauren’s presence, talking softly with their neighbors though Lauren didn’t understand a word of it. She looked around for Alex, but didn’t spot her in the opulent room, at least not yet.

“Are you allergic to anything?” Mishca leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“Now would be a terrible time to ask, wouldn’t it?” She asked smiling at him.

He grinned, shrugging. “Never too late.”