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 at 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 have 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 having his last name was a bonus.

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, carefully flipping an omelet, if he had to guess, 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 skirted over to the trash can 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—and 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 omelet. 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. “Yeah…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 from his face, but he didn’t know if he was successful as she pushed the plate back toward him. As he finally took his first bite, he figured there were worse ways to go.

“There are 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 this envelope held their final decision.

He’d only just 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; he 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. She snatched them up and 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 had 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 toward mending his relationship with you. 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 fell. “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 and reaching for a black tie once he had 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’d 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, that 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 straightening it into place. After she was done, she smoothed 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 by 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. He took his time, savoring the moment and making sure that 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 met Alex and Amber to go shopping 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.

And most of those times were only because Luka was there too.

Lauren hoped to at least talk to her and see whether there was anything she could do to help though she doubted there would be, since what she assumed was bothering her, Lauren wouldn’t be able to help anyway. But she did want to gauge whether or not Mishca should talk to her. Lauren knew what it was like to let wounds fester, and she didn’t want that for Alex.

Washing the dishes Mishca had used, Lauren straightened up the kitchen and went to take a shower next. By the time she’d finished and gotten dressed, she was no longer alone in the apartment. Since you couldn’t actually reach the penthouse without a special key, she knew it was Alex, or even Luka, since they both had a key.

Amber was out there too, Lauren noticed when she came out of the room, but a noticeable tension existed between Luka and Alex who were sitting on opposite ends of the couch. The farther in she walked, the more curious she felt.

“Everything okay?”

Amber glanced back at her, eyes wide, and it was easy enough for Lauren to read the question she didn’t ask aloud.

What the hell was up with them?

Her eyes shielded by a pair of mirrored sunglasses, Alex put on a tight smile. She nodded once then turned back to the phone she’d been typing on. Luka, who shoved a hand through his damp hair, glared over at her, mumbling something beneath his breath.

Turning his attention from her, he smiled over at Amber. “I think I left a shirt at your place back—”

“Why were you at her place?”

Amber, obviously reaching her own conclusion as to why they were acting weird around each other, tried to explain. “It wasn’t—”

“At least I could understand why you’d sleep with her, unlike that—”

“Poshyol ty’—Fuck off.”

Lauren, moving to sit beside Amber, blinked when she heard the curse. She didn’t think she had ever heard Luka curse at Alex that way.

Canting her head to the side, a smile growing, Alex asked, “Sensitive about your whore, Luka?”

“Who I fuck doesn't concern you.”

“Likewise.”

If Lauren had to guess, he looked like he was on the verge of hurting her, but before it could escalate to that point, she butted in.

“I thought you were with Mish today?”

He had glanced at Lauren, his expression unreadable, before his eyes cut back to Alex, that fire reentering them. “Long fucking story. I’ll get the car.”

He was on his feet, heading out without a backward glance. Alex headed toward the hall bathroom in the opposite direction. As the elevator chimed for Luka, the bathroom door slammed.

“Soo…does this happen often?” Amber asked.

“Normally, it’s a lot more civil. They kind of have a…thing.”

Laughing softly, she shook her head. “Yeah, I can see that. Are all you Russians this intense? I may have to rethink my policy on not dating guys who are involved in illegal things.”

“If you mean territorial, then yeah, maybe, though I can’t really say for sure about anyone besides Mish and Luka. Alik seems pretty cool; he reminds me of Luka a little bit if you like the whole blond thing.”

“No, I was—”

“Or Klaus.”

Whatever protest she’d been about to say before Lauren interrupted her was forgotten as her face scrunched up. “First of all, gross. That would be like dating Mish, and while he’s nice to look at and all, just…no. Second, I don’t want the evil twin. He scares me.”

It had actually been by chance that Amber had even met Klaus. She’d come over one day to hang out when she had an off day from the gallery she worked at. While Lauren and Mishca had been running late, Klaus decided to break into their place—a hobby of his, he’d said—and chill until they arrived. Amber, thinking it was Mishca of course, had immediately launched into a conversation with him, not realizing that he’d had no idea what she was talking about or even whom she was, for that matter. Once they did arrive, however, her reaction had been priceless.

Lauren shrugged. “That’s a no on Alik and Klaus. Luka, though he’ll never admit it, has his thing with Alex—”

“Not to mention she’d probably shank me if I ever made a move on him.”

“Oh!” Lauren said with a snap of her fingers, suddenly remembering. “Klaus has a friend. Irish, I think, and his name is—”

“Are you trying to set me up?” Amber asked cutting her off.

Laughing, she put her hands up in surrender. “Just giving you some more options should you choose to jump back out there.”

Ever since her breakup with her boyfriend, Rob, who she’d dated for longer than Lauren had even known her, Amber had remained single. Rob was happily living his life with her cousin, of all people. Not that Lauren was an expert or anything, but she thought it was long overdue for Amber to let Rob go and move on.

“No offense to evil twin or his friend, but the idea of dating a mercenary freaks me out. Didn’t you tell me that they have more enemies than even your husband? Yeah, no, thanks. Now, if we’re done talking about my non-existent love life, we should get going so we can shop for your trip.”

By the time Alex came back out of the bathroom and they were all in the car heading into the city toward the boutique Lauren favored, the mood had considerably lightened though it was pretty clear that Luka and Alex were now ignoring each other.

Once they arrived at the shop, Luka drove off to park. Lauren’s phone rang almost at the same time as Amber’s phone chimed.

“Hey, Mom,” Lauren said cheerfully once she answered.

“Hi, darling, how are you?”

Smiling, she followed Amber and Alex into the store. “Good as always. We’re shopping for a dress for your big day.”

At that, Susan’s voice softened. “I’m glad you guys can make it.”

“Of course. Mish made sure we wouldn’t miss it.”

The interesting thing was that Susan hadn’t wanted to ask out of consideration for Mishca, knowing what and who he was, and that it might have made it difficult for them to go—especially since he wasn’t going to let her fly alone. It only took one phone call from Ross with a single command— “Get your ass here.” —for Mishca to make the reservations. No matter how gruff Ross was with Mishca, he never took offense.

It was just one of the perks of being married, Mishca had said.

“How long are you staying? I feel like I haven’t seen you.”

It had felt that way. “At least a couple of days, but I have so much to tell you about when I get there.”

“Good, I can’t wait to hear it. Well, I was just calling to check in. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Okay. Love you, Mom, and tell Ross I love him, too.”

“I love you too and will do.”

Amber and Alex were already lost amongst the sea of people in the store. Since Luka wasn’t far behind her, Lauren just waited for him.

“Do you want my honest opinion?” Lauren asked since they were walking alone.

“No.”

Deciding that she would tell him anyway despite his somber mood, she kept on. “I don’t think Mish would actually kill you if you had a thing with a particular someone who’s close to him.”

“Leave it alone, Lauren.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Leave it alone. If I wanted your advice, I would have asked for it. Stop trying to ‘fix’ shit when you should be worried about yourself.”

Six months ago, she might have started tearing up at that, but now she just looked over at Luka. “Won’t happen again.”

Turning away from him, Lauren headed toward the shoe department, knowing that was more than likely where she would find them. Luka was right in some regards; she was trying to “ fix” whatever it was between him and Alex. She wanted them to be happy, as happy as she was with Mishca, but it was pretty clear from his attitude that whatever was broken between them, they’d have to fix it themselves.

Sure enough, Alex and Amber were busy trying on shoes when Lauren walked up. Forcing a smile, Lauren did what she came to do, and by the end of the day, there was more than one person ignoring the enforcer.

* * *

After meeting with Roman in Green Hill to finalize his plans for the parlor, Mishca still had a long day of driving around the neighboring boroughs, checking in on his men and the work that needed to be done. Business was far from perfect, and it would be a while before it even got close, but he could say that things were far better than even he had anticipated. Even the men he answered to were impressed, and that was a hard thing to accomplish.

It didn’t hurt, however, that he was fair with the men under him. It became clear that the better work you did—that didn’t include enforcing his rules—the more likely you were to receive a bonus.

Money was always a great motivator.

Hundreds of men answered to him now that he was at the top. That didn’t include the number of workers he had at his clubs, and yet, there was only one person he was desperately close to strangling.

Mishca stood behind the chair in his office and could almost feel his hands wrapped around the throat of his enforcer, but because he knew Lauren would take Luka’s death hard, he kept his fingers where they were, his knuckles gone white with the force of his grip.

“Luka,” he started through gritted teeth, trying to force his annoyance down, wishing for once that Luka would do what he asked without having to make a joke out of it. “This is serious.”

Since that night in the motel room, and Mishca had taken over as Pakhan, Mishca had seen less of his enforcer—and if he were honest, it was in part because of his harboring resentment for what he had done, but mostly because he was entirely too busy.

But with the shift in power, Mishca didn’t have many people left who he trusted implicitly—and Luka had only been doing his job, after all. Some wondered how he could trust Luka without knowing a single thing about him, and if he were on the outside looking in, Mishca would wonder the same thing, but Luka had never made him doubt him. Ever. He’d witnessed and heard of enough bloody shit that Luka had done; there was no doubt that he was who he said he was.

That didn’t mean Mishca didn’t have the inclination to look into him now after everything that had happened. He just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

“Serious? This is serious. Very serious,” Luka agreed, shaking his head vehemently. “I’ll make sure nothing falls to shit while you’re off choking the dragon.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Mishca squeezed his eyes shut. “Luka—”

“Jerking the chicken?”

“Get out.”

Luka pouted as if he had been looking forward to saying more.

“One more thing.”

He turned as Mishca came around his desk, rolling up his sleeve. Luka’s eyebrows went up as he watched in fascination at what Mishca might do next. But Mishca didn’t say anything, only slung out his fist, connecting with Luka’s nose.

His head snapped back, his hands immediately coming up to cup his nose, a surprised laugh spilling out of him. Dropping his hands, blood streamed from his face, and he wiped it with the back of his hand.

Grinning, he said, “You hit like a bitch.”

At this point, even Mishca was smiling. “Don’t ever break my finger again.”