In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(62)

“It’s beautiful,” she said in awe as he lifted it out of the box and fastened it around her wrist.

“I’m glad you like it.”

She smiled up at him. “I love it.” As she looked down at it, she frowned suddenly. “This wasn’t outrageously expensive, was it?”

He scratched at the hair on his jaw. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out how he always managed to keep the same amount of facial hair all the time.

“Define expensive.”

She glared at him.

“It was not a hardship,” he said.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Now I feel bad because my gift isn’t as nice as this.”

“I thought you said no gifts? Besides, whatever it is, I’m grateful.”

“Yea, you say that now,” she mumbled looking away. “Wait here.”

She dashed into her room, grabbing the wrapped bundle from the bottom of her suitcase. Fidgeting with the hem of her hit, she handed it over.

Mishca was far more enthusiastic about tearing off the paper than she thought he would be. His smile only grew when he pulled out the framed picture, laughing at the engraving across the back.

To better first dates.

Blue bowling balls adorned the front of it, the picture Amber had snapped of them before their date inside.

“I doubt I have ever received anything as great as this and before you contradict me, yes it is the greatest because it came from you.”

She smiled, relieved that he liked it. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him, feeling like the happiest girl in the world.

“God, do either of you stop?” Alex asked from behind them, wrinkling her nose. “Someone could get pregnant just looking at the two of you. Or someone could already be pregnant.”

Lauren’s face mottled with red as she slapped mishca’s arm. “You said we were the only ones on this floor!”

“Or he was saying that so you wouldn’t change your mind,” Alex supplied helpfully.

“And if Alex wants her gift she’ll get the hell out!” Mishca shouted back at his sister.

Lauren glared at him, embarrassment replacing the happiness she felt a moment before.

He looked sheepish, holding his hands up. “I can explain.”

Yea, right. Rolling her eyes, she turned on her heel and went to get ready for breakfast.

***

Various assortments of food were placed in the center of the table, more than what had been at the dinner several nights ago. Everyone sat in the same seat from that night as well which Lauren found odd. It was almost like they had assigned seats.

When all the food was served and drinks poured, Viktor stood abruptly with his glass. Mishca looked to his father for a brief second before he too held his up, everyone following his direction.

“I offer a toast,” Viktor declared glancing at everyone in turn, stopping for a beat longer on Lauren, then added, “to my brother, his lovely wife Anya for allowing us in their home.”

He then turned to Mishca and Lauren though his gaze was fastened on Lauren with an intensity she didn’t understand. “And to my nephew, may you find happiness in your every endeavor. To everyone, Suzhenogo konyom ne Ob’edyesh.”

As soon as the words left his lips, Lauren’s flute of orange juice slipped from her lax fingers, shattering into pieces as juice splashed all over the hardwood floors. Someone gasped, maids hurrying around to clean up the mess, but the table and all its inhabitants disappeared as Lauren was surrounded by darkness, only a small sliver of light shining through the bottom of the door.

Her fear was so pungent that she could practically taste it. She could hear muffled talking, one she knew as her father’s voice, distant memories rushing back to the forefront. It was like the fog that had always obscured that night had finally receded.

Another man was talking, saying the words that had brought it all back, then a loud pop causing something—or someone—slammed against the door, slamming it shut. She jumped at the sharp sound, but was careful not to make a sound.

“No matter what you hear…no matter what happens, don’t make a noise, okay?”

In that moment, she could remember her father smiling down at her sadly, the laugh lines bracketing out beside his eyes crinkling as he gazed at her like this was the last time he would ever see her.

“Daddy loves you, honey.”

Her hands were empty, but she could still feel the texture of the plush blanket she always carried. The scent of blood coated the air as it drifted beneath the door, slowly creeping towards her. There was nowhere for her to go with the limited space in the closet. She could only stare down at it helplessly, the thick liquid soaking her pants

She touched it in an attempt to move it away from her, her adolescent mind not knowing what else to do. She cried, hearing the door slam, waiting for her daddy to let her out, but when he never came, she just sat there, not wanting to break her promise.

“Lauren!”

Mishca’s worried voice snapped Lauren back to the present. She blinked, taring down at her hand, seeing the cool liquid dripping onto the floor. Orange juice, not blood.

She had been crying soundlessly, her eyes stinging. All eyes were trained on her, their curiosity clear, but she was too terrified to feel embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” she said to no one in particular, shoving her chair back and fleeing the room.