Until the End (Volkov Bratva #2)(30)

Uncaring of their surroundings, he grabbed hold of the arm of her chair, tugging her closer until she was within arm’s reach. His hand dropped down to her lap, his fingers curling around her thigh.

“I’m never going to let you live this down,” she whispered just as the waiter arrived at their table.





Dinner proved a quiet affair after Mishca’s display of jealousy. Lauren was laying on her stomach, flipping through channels, stopping when she got to a movie she had seen for the first time about a month ago.

“I used this for research,” she said as she dug her spoon into the crème br?lée Mishca had sent up to the room for her.

Mishca regarded the movie silently, just as the scene of the little diary burning in the bucket played. She felt him looking at her, trying to decipher how she felt about it. When she didn’t think about, it didn’t hurt as much.

She still missed reading his thoughts, loving the way her father viewed the world, but it was the sacrifice she had to make.

“I have something for you,” he said abruptly, hopping out of the bed to look in his suitcase.

Whatever he had, he kept hidden behind his back as he came back over.

“For a kiss.”

Laughing, she climbed up to her knees, pressing her lips to his softly, waiting for him to get into it before she pulled back.

“Show me.”

With a chuckle, he presented his present.

At first she didn’t believe it, thinking he had gotten her a replica, until she flipped it open and read the first page. She was dangerously close to crying, Mishca’s image wavering.

“I thought you would enjoy this,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“No, this is the greatest thing you could have ever given me.”

How could she have gone so long without him?





Mishca was at ease, his thoughts peaceful for once. This had been the longest he had gone without answering a call. There were days when he went from the club to his father, then making his rounds around the city to check in with his men. Technically, this would be the first vacation he’d taken in years.

Vlad, as his second-in-command, was in charge while he was away, another of Mishca’s test runs to prepare him for a bigger role in the Bratva. While he had no doubts that the older man could handle the work, it was the way Mikhail preferred it.

In quiet moments like these, Mishca wondered how different his life would be if he had opted out of the life. It might have been highly frowned upon, but it was doable. While Catja, Mishca’s mother, had been alive, he knew he would never follow in his father’s footsteps, not wanting to add to the pain she already suffered from, but with her death came an empty hole in his life. He had thought to fill it with the Bratva, find a family that might not have been blood, but were supposed to Bratva, find a family that might not have been blood, but were supposed to be closer than.

Mishca hadn’t realized just how empty his life was until Lauren stumbled into it. It had amazed him how quickly he had fallen for her and he soon found himself living for the moments when she smiled, how that simple action could light up her face. And when it was he who put that expression there, he felt complete.

It was the reason he’d held back from her for so long.

That night at the manor, when she would have gladly accepted more than what they’d done in her bed, he couldn’t do it. There were too many secrets, secrets that would, and ultimately did, tear them apart.

And that fear was what kept him from uttering three little words.

He was a rational man and he wouldn’t pretend that he hadn’t been terrified of him telling her how he felt and she not feeling the same way. Infatuated men were blind to the emotions around them, so while he might have felt strongly for her, she might not have shared the same emotion.

Even now, after all they’d been through, he still hadn’t been able to say it, not that it hadn’t been on his mind. He needed to say it, not just so she would have no doubts about the way he felt, but a reminder to himself that he wouldn’t always lose everything he loved.

Lauren shifted in his arms, resting more comfortably against his side. One thing he always liked when they slept together was the way they fit. No matter how they turned at night, they each adjusted to the other’s position.

Mishca opened his mouth, the words poised at the tip of his tongue, yet he was unable to say them. For a moment, he thought of her leaving again, walking out of his life, but this time, never returning. Could he live without her a second time?

“Ya tebya lyublya —I love you,” he whispered, the words soft in the silent room.

They were just as much a declaration as they were a promise. This time, he wouldn’t be giving her up without a fight, even if she thought to leave herself.

More seconds of silence, reaffirming his thought that she might have been sleeping. He would say it again in the morning when they were both awake, and in English so he was sure she understood him.

It was just a matter of time.

Mishca closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander to other things, at least until he felt Lauren’s lips curl against his neck.

“Ya tebya lyublyu slishkom—I love you too.”

It was his turn to smile. Her pronunciation was only a touch off, letting him know she had practiced saying it correctly.