The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(15)

She didn’t question him, but did watch as he entered the restaurant, making a beeline to the bar.



While Lauren was preoccupied, Mishca took a moment to just watch her. The way she smiled when she spoke softly with Amber, how her eyes would light up with humor when Luka told a joke, and how even when he promised to return shortly, her gaze still sought him through the crowd. Such simple things in retrospect, but more the reason why what he was about to do was more than worth it.

He’d specifically told Vlad and his men working security for the night to stay out there with her, knowing that when he approached Ross, he would probably get punched in the face for what he was going to ask. Mishca liked to think that if he were in Ross' shoes, he would be more understanding if his daughter wanted to be with a known criminal, but then again, if Mishca ever had a daughter, he would be the most overprotective father in the world.

Mishca signaled for the bartender again, needing another shot of Vodka as he waited for Ross to exit the restrooms. This was the only opportunity all night that he had gotten the detective alone, and while Mishca could have asked his question over the phone where the likelihood of him getting hit was low, but he wasn’t a coward, and he knew he would eventually have to face Ross whether he liked it or not.

Like Mishca’s thoughts had conjured him, Ross came walking out, his eyes intent on the party. Mishca tipped back his drink, swallowing it down without really feeling the burn, clearing his throat to get Ross’ attention.

This was the first time in a really long time—besides with Lauren—that Mishca felt nervous.

Ross didn't look too happy, but he did wait as Mishca approached him, his frown deepening when he noticed Mishca touch his breast pocket. It wasn’t the first time Mishca had done it throughout the night, but Ross was one of the few that noticed.

"You've been doing that all night. What the hell are you hiding?" Ross asked suspiciously.

Only he would notice Mishca doing that and actually call him out on it. "I have a question for you."

"Yea? Get on with it."

"I know you don't like me much--"

"At all."

Mishca almost smiled. "But Lauren and I are serious and I..." Mishca hesitated, clearing his throat again. Ross looked at him expectantly while Mishca tried to covertly remember if he was right-handed or not. Deciding that it didn't matter, since either hand was going to hurt like a bitch, Mishca finally said the words. "I wanted to ask you for Lauren's hand in marriage."

There was a split second of shock on Ross' face as he stared Mishca down like he thought it was a joke. When Mishca didn't laugh, he cocked that left fist back and slugged him so hard, the people observing them gave cries of surprise, drawing the attention of their party outside. Straightening, Mishca raised his hand, a silent stand-down to his men that were already making their way towards them.

He couldn't stop Susan though.

"What the hell is going on with you two?" She asked in a heated whisper, glaring at them both. "You should be glad Lauren didn't see that."

Mishca touched his face, wincing as the pain radiated through his face. Dammit, that was going to bruise. Ross seemed too angry for words.

"I asked for Lauren's hand."

"I don’t—Oh." She drew out the word, understanding what Mishca was saying. She tried to keep a straight face, but the edges of her mouth were twitching like she was trying to fight a smile. “Thomas, we have talked about this. We agreed not to interfere.”

"Well I'm not going to give my blessing on something I don't agree with, and I definitely will never agree to having a Volkov in the family."

Mishca understood, but that didn't stop his temper from flaring. "I'm not my father."

"The hell if you're not. Look what you've gotten her into since she's been here. Damn Albanians--and hell, she isn't even safe with your lot."

Susan shushed him, noticing that they were still the center of attention despite their lowered voices.

"I didn't take that into consideration then," Mishca said trying to remain calm. If he lost his cool, he would never get them, Ross in particular, to agree. "I would protect her with my life, of that you should have no doubt."

Even if Ross didn't know what that meant, Susan did. Mishca knew he could never win him over, but Susan, Susan was another story entirely. She had never outright told him, but he believed she had a soft spot for him.

"I've met your father," Susan said, "and I met your mother. No matter how brief, I can see a little more of her in you than Mikhail Volkov. More importantly, I know you love Lauren and I know she loves you. If you're what makes her happy, we won't stand in your way.” But she wasn’t done yet, noting his triumphant smile. “But from now on, I want someone with her when you're not around."

"It's already been done," he promised her.

She nodded, looking relieved. Ross only looked a little more pissed off.

"I hate you," he said bitterly.

Mishca looked the man dead in his eyes and said, "That may be true, but your love for her overshadows your hatred for me."

"I want to talk to Lauren first," Ross said, gazing out past the windows. "I'll tell you my decision after."

Mishca had no choice but to stand there with Susan and watch Ross walk off with his fate in his hands.