The Final Hour

by London Miller

  “He has plenty of tattoos, doesn’t he?” Susan asked. “And he’s a bit…odd.”

  Lauren could only laugh. “That’s only the half of it.”

  It didn’t matter that she had just seen Mishca a few hours prior, she still reacted like it was the first time all over again. Mishca came over and despite Ross’ glare of death, Lauren fell into his side, wrapping an arm around his waist. If anything, Ross hatred for him had worsened since the last time they’d been in contact, thanks in part to Lauren’s phone call home after Brahim.

  Susan might have been willing to let Mishca handle it, but Ross was still a cop through and through. After quick hug and a congratulations, Amber swept past to talk to Susan, and was the only one that was able to get a genuine smile out of Ross.

  Alex was off to the side with Luka, both arguing with each other softly, like they didn’t notice they had an audience of one.

  At Lauren’s approach, Luka turned away, presenting her with a bright green apple that looked like it had just been plucked from a tree.

  “For you.”

  “Thanks Luka.” One day she would get to the bottom of his obsession with fruit. “My mom was just asking about you.”

  He stood a little taller, straightening an imaginary tie. “I’ll try not to embarrass you.” Patting her head, he walked past.

  “Why were the two of you arguing?” Lauren asked when he was well out of earshot.

  “Because he’s an idiot.”

  “I don’t think I’ve heard that one before, but I’ll let you deal with him. Have you met my mom and Ross?”

  Lauren was ready to pull her over and introduce them, but Alex froze where she was, looking a bit sheepish.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” She asked softly, glancing down at the toes of her heels.

  “What do you mean?”

  Alex shifted on her feet, looking apprehensive, like she wanted to be anywhere but there.

  “I’m the reason that—”

  “No, you’re not,” Lauren spoke up before she could finish. “I never blamed you, not once, and I know they won’t either. There’s no need to feel awkward at all.”

  “Mom, Ross, this is Alex, Mishca’s sister—Alex, these are my parents.”

  Susan didn’t miss a beat, engulfing Alex into a hug that she wasn’t expecting. Lauren could almost see the tension draining out of Mishca as he stood to the side, silently.

  “Luka will drive you over,” Mishca said as Susan continued to fuss over Alex.

  “Don’t take too long,” Ross said with narrowed eyes. “I know where you live, boy.”

  Riverpark in Kip’s Bay was one of the many restaurants Lauren had wanted to go to since moving to New York. Since he had asked, Lauren had made a list of It took only a single phone call to book the patio of the restaurant for the night. The management staff took every liberty to make the space even more magical than it already was, adding to the view of the East River it provided.

  The party was going quite well all things considered, at least until Lauren shrugged out of her blazer, her dress shifting with the movement to reveal a hint of one of the stars inked in her skin.

  To say that Ross didn’t take that well was an understatement.

  She was sure that the glass he held would shatter with the grip he had on it. Cringing slightly, Lauren straightened it, hiding her stars, but it was too late.

  Surprisingly, Ross didn’t mention them, though his expression promised that with the slightest provocation, he would snap.

  Dinner was a rather quiet affair, all things considered, and if not for the rather candid guards sitting around, it would have felt like a normal dinner with family.

  As they ate, beneath the table, he kept his hand on her bare thigh, jut as he had done so many times in the past. It was hard to concentrate on anything else when his thumb swept across her skin. It wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose, not when he was busy holding a conversation with the others, but it was the only thing she could focus on.

  “I’ll be right back,” Mishca said before long, pressing a quick kiss to her temple.

  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 A
lbanians—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.

  Lauren stood with a glass of pink champagne in hand, leaning against the railing as she stared out into the night, noticing just how beautiful the Manhattan Bridge was when the lights hit it the right way, but everything about this night felt magical. She couldn’t describe it.

  For once in her life, everything was seeming to fall right into place. Everyone she loved was here and she couldn’t regret the events that had brought her to this point.

  “There’s my girl.”

  Lauren smiled, turning at the sound of Ross’ voice. He looked so proud, the lines fanning out beside his eyes crinkling as his smile grew. He stopped just beside her, gazing out at the water like she had done moments before.

  “How’s it feel?”

  She laughed. “Indescribable. It doesn’t really feel real yet.”

  “And he’s who you want?” Ross asked quietly, like he was afraid of her answer.

  She knew he would never approve of Mishca, not just because of what happened to him, but because of who Mishca was and what he represented. Ross had spent his career putting men like Mishca behind bars. Lauren understood that, even though she loved Mishca with all her heart.

  “Yes,” she said finally, looking up at him. “He is.”

  Ross downed the rest of his drink. “Then I can’t stand in your way.”

  “Ross—”

  “No, no, let me finish. What I said before, I meant it. I could tell you about all the danger you’ll face—hell, you know about the danger—but it wouldn’t do me any good. We want you to be happy.”

  Placing her flute on the railing, she wrapped her arms around Ross, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”

  When she pulled back, she thought she saw tears in his eyes.

  “Can I give you a little advice?”

  She nodded.

  “Plausible deniability. I’m sure that boy over there already knows not to tell you anything about his dealings, but I’m telling you. Don’t ask any questions. The less you know, the better. It would break your mother’s heart if you were sent to prison.”

  “And God knows what would happen to me in there.” She laughed when he glared at her. “No, but I hear you Ross.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Good.” He sighed long and hard, looking a bit defeated though Lauren didn’t know why. “Let me go find your mother.”

  He disappeared back into the restaurant, but Lauren could see him just off to the side talking to Mishca. Whatever was said made Mishca nod, then he too disappeared from view.

  Now, Lauren was really curious. She finally found Mishca in the crowd, making his way back to her, but instead of the carefree expression he’d been wearing all night, he looked nervous.

  He was holding a carefully wrapped gift box, a sparkling silver bow on top. She should have known, despite what she had told him, he would do what he wanted.

  “I thought we said no gifts,” Lauren said as she tried to watch him put the bracelet on her wrist though she could hardly see it with his hands in the way.

  Several months ago, he had taken it back from her, telling her that he wanted to put another charm on it, but she’d eventually forgotten he still had it.

  “Before you look at it,” Mishca said meeting her eyes, closing his hand around her wrist gently, “I need to tell you something first.”

  Unsure what he was about to say, she just nodded.

  “We never talked about that night, when you came by the club and I wasn’t there. When I went back, I saw Naomi’s phone on the ground and I knew what you were probably thinking, but I wasn’t with her that night, or any other night. The phone was left that day you saw Naomi and Luka there. She dropped it on her way out.”

  His thumb slipped beneath the links of the bracelet, rubbing over the sensitive underside of her wrist, where her pulse raced. “I didn’t think too much into it, but seeing it again…I just don’t want you to have the wrong idea.”

  Lauren smiled. “Mish, it doesn’t matter now. It’s in the past.”

  “Not yet, I—just give me a minute to explain.” He looked so anxious that she was worried what was bothering him so much. “The night he came in there, I was at the manor, looking through some old boxes in the attic—it’s where my father kept my mother’s old things. I was supposed to get back in less than an hour, but it took longer than I was expecting.”

  Mishca didn’t ramble. If anything, he was too careful with the way he spoke. But now that he was, she couldn’t help responding to his own anxiety. “Mish, what are you talking about?”

  “I’m getting there,” he said on an uneasy laugh. “You have to hear the whole thing—believe it or not, I’ve been practicing this. Do you have any idea how much shit is up there?” He asked suddenly. “It was like a fucking museum up there and—”

  “Mish…”

  “Right. Anyway. I needed to find what I was looking for that night. For the life of me, I cannot tell you why it needed to be that night, but I refused to leave until I found it. Finally, after two hours of opening boxes, I found it.” That manic expression in his eyes cleared, now filling with shame. “I was in the car heading back when I tried calling you. I’m so sorry I let that happen.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered meaning every word.

  That was why she had never bothered to ask because her presence there would not have made a difference to the Albanian man that was sent after Naomi. She just happened to be there at the wrong time.

  “I should have been more careful. I didn’t think about your well-being enough before. Not that I hadn’t been warned, I just thought if I kept you away from it all, no one would try to get to me through you. For that, I’m sorry.”

  Now, she really had no idea what he was getting at. It almost felt like he was readying to break up with her. “Mish, what are you trying to tell me?”

  “I love you,” he said blowing out a breath as though he was gathering his nerve, “and I promise to never let anything like that happen to you again, not so long as you’re with me.” His hand slipped free of her wrist, both hands capturing her own as he gave them a slight squeeze. “Do you believe that?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And you trust me?”

  “Mish, yes, but—”

  “And you love me?”

  It was that that made her notice him moving slightly back from her, his eyes trained directly on her face. In that split moment, she knew. She knew exactly what he would ask her next.
<
br />   “Yes, I love you,” she said back, watching as he dropped down to one knee.

  Her heart beat ten times faster at the sight of him kneeling in front of her. Everything was so silent around them that she knew the others were watching, but she didn’t care about them, not now.

  A small smile tilted the corner of his lips as he lifted a shoulder and asked, “Ty vyydesh’ za menya—Will you marry me?”

  It was the way he did it, so innocently that made her laugh earnestly, not even caring that she had started crying. He let go of her right hand, the same one he had put the bracelet on, and on one of the links was a beautiful diamond ring, a single solitaire in the center of it.

  Lauren met his eyes, saw the vulnerability he tried to keep hidden. There was never a doubt in her mind that she would say ,”Yes, yes I’ll marry you.”

  The biggest and brightest smile lit up his face and he swept her off her feet, spinning her around as everyone cheered. She couldn’t tell who was cheering the loudest between Amber and Alex, their squeals of excitement matching the others.

  Finally, Mishca set her on her feet, smiling like he was the happiest man in the universe and as she went up on her tiptoes to kiss him, and she couldn’t tell who was happier between the two of them.

  The night was ending in a way Lauren hadn’t seen coming, like the dynamic between them had changed. She felt it as soon as everyone finished their cheering, and Mishca pulled away long enough for her to catch her breath. It was in his eyes, that stark need that made her blush.

  From that point on, Mishca kept hold of her hand, never letting her stray far from his side. Everyone else thought it was just because of his surprise engagement, but she knew him better than that.

  By the time they were finally leaving the restaurant, climbing into Mishca’s Range Rover—which he tended to drive more now since she favored it—Lauren was more than ready to get home. Traffic was impressive, as it normally was during the late evening, and instead of keeping both hands on the wheel, Mishca reached over, resting the palm of his hand on her bare thigh.

  He probably didn’t mean anything by it, he had done it many times in the past, but with the mood she was in, the heat of his touch warmed her all over. Sometimes she forgot just how perceptive he was of her, so when she shifted in the passenger seat, he spread his fingers a little wider, taking up more space, his thumb stroking back and forth over her inner thigh.