The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(32)

“Does Alex know about him?” It seemed like an appropriate enough question when they didn’t share the same last name.

“Yes, but she hasn’t brought him up and I don’t plan to.”

It wasn’t too long ago that Alex had learned the truth of her parentage, and while Roman might have been her half-brother as compared to Mishca technically being her cousin, in Lauren’s eyes, she would never think to tell her Mishca wasn’t her brother. Not only wasn’t it her place, but that would be causing her more pain than she needed. If Mishca wasn’t bringing him up, Lauren wouldn’t either.

Besides Roman, there was no one else of interest that arrived at the dinner. All of Mishca’s family and associates were polite, though reserved, and if they disapproved of what Mishca was doing, they didn’t speak it aloud.

The table the immediate family would be sitting at reminded Lauren of the one at the manor, the length of it sitting everyone comfortably. Down one side was Susan and Ross, then Amber, Tristan, and Matt, with an empty seat for Lauren next to Susan, then Mishca’s seat, and next to him was Alex and Vlad. Luka decided to drag a chair up so he was sitting at the front of the room too.

As Mishca and Lauren took their seats, the dinner show started. Waiters came in one after the other, silver domed trays precariously balanced on the tips of their fingers as they glided around the room, placing the dishes on the plates, unveiling the food beneath. Lauren would have been more than happy in an average run-of-the-mill restaurant, but since she had promised to let Alex be in charge, she accepted it, not that it was much of a hardship with what she was seeing now.

Once people were eating, conversations began to pick up again. More surprisingly, Lauren’s friends looked like they were having a good time as they talked with Mishca’s younger relatives. Though she had never voiced the fear, Lauren had always wondered how her side and Mishca’s side would get along.

Even Ross was having a polite, albeit short, conversation with an older gentleman and his wife.

By the time dinner was midway through, Lauren couldn’t wipe the grin from her face if she tried. It wasn’t just that she was enjoying herself, it was also because Mishca’s enjoyment was infectious. She had never seen him so happy, so alive in that single moment compared to when he was constantly burdened by his obligations.

“Want to try my duck?” Lauren asked, spearing a piece and holding it up to Mishca’s mouth.

“I would like to try something else,” he said quietly, accepting the food she offered him.

Her entire body flushed with what he was suggesting, the need for him only growing. He didn’t take his eyes from her, watching her reaction, that single dimple in his cheek showing as he smiled.

“You’re insatiable,” she responded, her voice sounding breathless even to her.

God, she thought he had exhausted her last night, but from the look in his eyes, there was a lot more in store for her when they got home.

“Ahem, that must be some amazing duck,” Alex’s voice cut in, dripping with amusement as she cleared her throat dramatically.

“You have no idea,” Lauren replied cutting another piece.

While the Christmas dinner at the manor had been a stoic affair, Lauren was surprised at how easygoing most of Mishca’s family were. They spoke to her openly in broken English, ever patient as she tried to speak to them in Russian.

It wasn’t until the newcomer arrived that conversations became stilted.

The silence in the room was deafening as Mikhail walked into the private room. Lauren had wondered whether or not he would be a part of the wedding—she never thought he approved, and Mishca never mentioned it—but she was more worried about Ross’ reaction to him.

He was being a good sport about it, keeping his opinion about Misha to himself most of the time, but Lauren knew there was only so much he could take.

Then, there was also Susan.

She and Lauren both knew that he was the one to have given Lauren’s father the loan for medical school, and he was the reason Cameron had ever been involved with the Volkovs.

It was only a matter of time that they all cross paths.

Wiping his mouth with the linen napkin, Mishca tossed it onto the table, climbing to his feet, ready to intercept Mikhail before he came any further, but the Mafia Boss waved his hand.

“There is no need for such formalities, Mishca.” His voice sounding impossibly louder in the room. “I can seat myself.”

Lauren could feel the anger coming off of Mishca as he, grudgingly, sank back down. Alex, whose easy smile was already falling, went stiff next to Mishca. While Lauren didn’t realize it, this was the first time since her revelation about Alex’s parents, that Mikhail and Alex had been in the same room together. It made sense, since Alex had been living in the city with Mishca, but it also made Lauren feel bad for how sad Alex now looked.

Since they hadn’t planned on Mikhail’s attendance, that threw the seating off, since family was seated directly beside Mishca and Lauren. That would mean Alex would have to sit on the other side of Mikhail, and no one looked happy at that prospect.

And from the way Mikhail determinedly walked towards what he assumed was his seat, Lauren thought of something fast.

“Mish, why don’t you switch seats with Alex,” Lauren suggested quietly.

“Lauren—” Alex protested looking pained.