Time Stood Still (3 page)

When Alik came over with the girl, tapped the bar with his hand before making himself scarce. She stood there stiffly, her arms folded across her chest, continuously looking over her shoulder.

“You’re safe for the moment. Christina, yes?”

Almost reluctantly, she nodded. “I’m sorry about this, I—”

“Oh, don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault. Not at all. Can I get you something?”

She shook her head vehemently, her shoulder length purple hair swaying. “No, thanks. A friend of mine is picking me up. The big guy at the door told me I could sit
 
until she got here. My bags are still over there.”

Lauren couldn’t imagine that kind of struggle having only one real boyfriend who happened to now be her husband. Without Stephanie having to say anything, as she rubbed her hands over her arms, the hem of her shirt rose just slightly, displaying dark bruises. She could only imagine what the rest of her looked like.

“Thank you,” she whispered, peeking up at Lauren. “For not—”

“Please don’t thank me for that. Anybody would have done it. But will you be alright at your friend’s? Can he find you there?”

Lauren kind of felt like she was invading the girl’s privacy, but she wanted to help in any way she could.
 

“I don’t think so, but I don’t have a lot of options, ya know? She’s letting me crash until I can find a job and—”

“Have you ever been a server?”

“Huh?”

“Server, like have you ever served drinks?”

She looked confused, but nodded. “Most of my undergrad, yes, but—”

“We’ve got an opening.”

Her mouth dropped open, and was about to snap shut again when Mishca came back up, his hand sliding beneath the fall of Lauren’s hair, his thumb sweeping over the nape of her neck. He tended to have that reaction on most women. But she didn’t count on Roman being with him.

Tearing her eyes from him and looking back to Lauren, she still shook her head. “That’s nice of you, but—”

“Mish, this is Stephanie. I offered her one of the bottle girl positions.”

He looked between her and the girl, then said something to Roman in Russian, who didn’t look pleased by whatever he was told. He said no, but ultimately relented, finally agreeing to whatever Mishca had asked of him.

Roman grabbed a napkin from the set on the bar top, pulling out a pen to scribble something down.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh, Christina?”

“Full name.”

Clearly Roman only had two moods. Intense and really intense. He hadn’t even looked at the girl since he walked up.

“Christina Montana.”

He handed her that napkin. “Go that address next week Tuesday. Tell them Roman Pavlov sent you and they’ll take care of you. Understand?”

She could do no more than nod, her eyes skirting over each of them, probably trying to work out who the hell they thought they were, but upon seeing Lauren’s reassuring smile, she nodded once.

“You’ll be safe here for the time being.” Mishca looked to Lauren. “Ready?”

“Yea.”

As they were walking out, Christina called to them, “Thank you.”

When they were some distance away, Mishca was shaking his head, a smile on his lips. “I can never leave you alone, can I? Not even for a few minutes.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mish. I’m just accepting the role you gave me.”

CHAPTER TWO

Lauren was up before Mishca, the sound of banging pans in the kitchen having woke him. Picking up his Blackberry, he scanned through the few messages he had, rolling his eyes to the one from Luka that asked, ‘What are you wearing?’ He briefly wondered why she was up so early—in the kitchen nonetheless—but since he was alone for the time being, he went ahead and altered their plane tickets, having already made the reservations for their hotel stay the night before.

Leaving his phone on the bedside table, he headed into the bathroom, relieving himself before washing his face, his thoughts already drifting to what he would need to get done before they left the state. The process went by surprisingly fast, especially since it was so last minute, but while he didn’t always rely on it, sometimes it was a bonus to have his last name.

Walking out of the bedroom, Mishca could only see Lauren’s back as she stood in front of the stove, her arms moving though he couldn’t see what she was making. Taking a seat at the bar, he watched her for a while, a small, contented smiled spreading over his face. He never expected it, couldn’t say he actually wanted it, but now that he had it, he cherished it.

Normality…or at least the closest to it that he would ever get. Since the time he’d become an integral part of the
Bratva
, he never expected to have a wife, or even to care enough about another person to make that kind of commitment.

But here she stood, through the chaos that was his life, and he couldn’t imagine his life without her.

“What are you making?”

She startled, jumping slightly before glaring at him over her shoulder, spatula in hand. She turned back after a few seconds, she turned back, carefully flipping—an omelette if he had to guess—the mixture in the skillet.

“Breakfast for you, obviously. Even when I purposefully get up two hours early, you’re still up at the crack of dawn before I can finish.”

He smirked. “You’ve been up for two hours?”

She made a noise, not outright answering his question, her eyes skirting over to the trashcan in the corner. He didn’t doubt that if he looked, there would be a few failed attempts at her eggs.
 

Reaching into one of the nearby cabinets, she removed a plate, setting it on the counter. As she went about plating the food—only for him it seemed—grabbing the silverware, he wondered why she was going through this much trouble.

It was no secret that she wasn’t very good in a kitchen—not that he cared much about that—but he had to wonder about her motives now.

Placing the plate in front of him, she continued standing, smiling proudly as she gestured with a tilt of her head for him to eat. Though Mishca picked up his knife and fork, he made no move to actually cut into the omelette. Truthfully, he was working up the nerve to do so.

“I do love you,” he tried instead, glancing back down at her offering. “But I’m not sure about this.”

She didn’t look disappointed by his statement, just laughed instead. “It’s not like I poisoned you, Mish. Swear. I even got lessons.”

As she talked, he did finally cut off a small piece, spearing it with his fork. “Oh? You never told me about this.”

It was almost to his mouth when she answered. “Yea…well, it was with Luka.”

This time, he put the fork down and pushed the plate away.

She shook with laughter, trying to explain. “You’d be surprised. Luka’s actually a great cook.”

“I have no viable proof of that.”

“But you trust me and that should be enough.”

He tried to keep the look of disdain off his face, but he didn’t know if he was successful as she pushed the plate back towards him. As he finally took his first bite, he figured there were worst ways to go out.

“There’s a few things I need to talk to you about while you’re here.”

“Is that why you’re buttering me up?” He asked, chewing slowly, surprised that he actually liked it.

With a satisfied smile, she turned her back, grabbing a rather large-sized envelope. “I’ll refrain from saying I told you so.”

With a shrug and a point of his fork to what she was holding, he asked, “What is that?”

She lost her smile, anxiety replacing the happiness in her eyes. Placing it face up between them, he read the letterhead. University of New York: School of Medicine. Had it been that long ago that she had applied? After her initial application, she’d gone for two separate interviews, and now tis envelope held their final decision.

He’d only placed his hand on it when she grabbed hold of his hand with both of hers, preventing him from moving it. “What if I wasn’t accepted?”

“Lauren—”

“I mean, my grades were good, right? I thought the interviews went well, but you never know.”

“
Lauren
. You’ll never know until you open it.”

Nodding, she pulled her hand away, but didn’t try to take the envelope from him. She looked so apprehensive that he didn’t bother asking her if she was ready just picked it up and tore it open, dumping out the documents inside.

“Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

Trying not to smile at her, his eyes skirted over the first few lines, already knowing the answer as soon as he read them. Her entire face fell as she waited for him to answer, but when he smiled, winking at her as he slid the papers in her direction, she lit up, snatching them up as she scanned them for herself, spinning in a circle.

“One step closer then, yes?”

She came around to his side, still grinning. “Absolutely. I’m one step closer to becoming your mob doctor once I graduate.”

Mishca glared at her even as she laughed. “I fail to see how that’s funny.”

“That’s because you have a very dry sense of humor. Luka would have laughed.”

Rolling his eyes, he went back to his breakfast. “That’s because he’s an idiot. What else did you need to talk to me about?”

Now, as she tucked her hair behind her ear, breaking eye contact with him, he knew it was something that nothing to do with her school.

“Remember how you were thinking of bringing Klaus in? Well, I kind of asked him about it yesterday… ”

“We talked about this, Lauren.”

“I know, I know. “I’ll keep you apprised of the decisions I make, but you will not get involved.’”

Though he wanted to be upset with her, the way she spoke with a terrible Russian accent lessened some of that frustration. “Exactly.”

“But I got him to agree.”

“And…”

“And?”

“Knowing Niklaus, he probably had conditions.”

She rubbed the back of her neck, glancing away. “Maybe a few.”

Of course. “Name them.”

“He wants to fight.”

His eyebrows bunched together as he turned her to face him. “I don’t understand.”

“You. He wants to fight you. If he wins, you pay him three times his current rate, but if you win, he’ll start calling you by your name and work towards mending his relationship with you,
but
regardless of the outcome, he does plan on working with you.”

“Do you know what his current rate is?” Mishca asked dryly, knowing that she more than likely didn’t, otherwise she might not have agreed to his terms.

She winced. “I’m assuming a pretty big number?”

He laughed without humor. “You’ve no idea.” He went on before her face well. “—But thank you for your help, though I think this should be your last barter with a mercenary.”

“Did I mess up your plans?”

Even if she had, he wouldn’t tell her that, not when it came to Klaus. Though he didn’t want her interfering with him either, Mishca knew that when it came to others, she wouldn’t approach them without coming to him first.

“Of course not. You might have done me a favor. Knowing Niklaus, he would have never agreed if not for you.”

She frowned at that as she followed him back into their bedroom, making a stop in the closet for him to get dressed.

“But there was no guarantee that he would have said yes just because I asked. He likes me just as much as he likes you.”

“Difference is,” Mishca started, buttoning the front of his shirt, reaching for a black tie once he finished, “you remind him of Sarah. I still remind him of someone he hates.”

She was quiet as he finished getting dressed. When she was still silent once he shrugged on his jacket he faced her.

“You knew I would ask him about it, didn’t you?” Her eyes were narrowed on him, and despite the fact that he knew she would be upset by his admission, he elected to tell the truth.

“Yes.”

Her arms went across her chest. “So you exploited a weakness of his to get what you wanted?”

“Not in so many words.”

Throwing her hands up, Lauren scoffed. “If you’re supposed to be mending bridges, or whatever the hell it is you two are doing, shouldn’t you be more honest? I’m just going to assume, if Klaus is anything like you, you would hate if someone did that to you.”

Lauren batted his hands away as he tried to knot his tie, finishing it for him and smoothing it into place. After she finished, she smoother her hands over his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“True, but you have to understand that you are a vulnerability of mine, and while I have no regrets about us, the only way I sleep at night is knowing that you’re safe. I will do anything to make sure you stay that way, understand?”

The tension drained out of her, even as she shook her head ruefully. “I know, Mish.”

He brought her hand up, pressing his lips to her knuckles for several seconds before moving his kiss to her lips, taking his time, savoring the moment, making sure he conveyed exactly how he felt.

“Besides, he went on after pulling away. “He’ll probably thank me since this move will make him more local.”

Frowning, she asked, “Why does that matter?”

“The girl. Reagan.”

“Jesus, Mish. Should I even ask how you know about someone he
might
be talking to?”

“Whatever happens in this city, I will more than likely know about.”

Shaking her head, she kissed his cheek. “You’ll be careful today, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Come home to me, Mish.”

Those words were as much a part of their routine as her fixing his tie, but no matter how often it happened, he was grateful to hear them.

“I always will.” He gave her another quick kiss. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“Of course. Maybe you’ll let me cook for you more often?”

He smiled, heading for the elevator. “Yes, maybe.”

***

Since Mishca would be gone most of the day, Lauren had some time to kill before she was meant to go out shopping with Alex and Amber for something to wear for Susan’s wedding. It had been a while since she had last seen her friend, and definitely wanted to catch up, but she was more worried about Alex and not just because of what happened the day before. Usually, Alex came around a lot, if only just to hang out, but since the trial, Lauren could count on one hand the number of times Alex had been by.