It was organized chaos the next morning as they readied to leave, wanting to get to the airport early. Lauren had never seen a few of the men who Mishca had brought over, but he made sure they stuck close to the elevator and didn’t venture any further into the apartment. While he’d finished walking through the place on the last of his rounds to make sure everything was secure, Lauren was waiting for him. She was on the phone with Susan, letting her know what time they were supposed to arrive.

Mishca passed a set of keys to Luka and said, “Keep things running smoothly.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He gestured for them to enter the elevator, pulling Lauren to his side as one of them pressed the button to descend. There were a number of people in the lobby, but they moved to the side, eyes wide, at the sight of Mishca’s security.

Luka went around the back, going to bring the car around while they waited outside. Mishca scanned the street, not very surprised at the unmarked car parked a few blocks down. He knew he was under a microscope, so he always made sure to pay careful attention to when and how he conducted his business.

Once Luka arrived, he hopped out the front, popping the trunk for their luggage. He reached for the bag Lauren held, but she smiled tightly, as she hefted it in herself, not meeting his eyes as she said, “I got it.”

Lauren was nice, more so than she needed to be in the world they lived in, and Mishca had never seen her treat Luka with anything less than sisterly affection. Now? She looked like she didn’t even want to be around him.

Mishca looked back and forth between the pair, trying to decipher what the problem was. The moment he asked though, Lauren smiled with a shake of her head, and Luka didn’t bother with a response at all. Once Lauren was beside him in the back of the Range Rover, and Luka was maneuvering them into the morning traffic, Mishca looked over at Lauren.

“What did he do?”

It was clear that it was definitely something; he knew her too well to think otherwise, even as she continued to deny it.

Ignoring that, he asked, “Do I need to have a word with him?”

“It’s fine, Mish. I’ve got it under control.”

She fell silent again as she took out her phone, absorbed in whatever she was looking at. He left her to it, needing to send out a few last-minute messages to some of his men who were not in the need-to-know about him leaving the city.

While they were only going to be in Michigan for a couple of days, his plan to take them to Sardinia was going to be a bit longer. He would have loved to stay gone for longer, but currently, he couldn’t afford to let his businesses go unattended for much longer than the three extra days he’d planned.

Even before he became Pakhan, there were always enemies hovering, waiting for the moment when he would make a mistake so that they could steal territory from him and encroach on his business contacts. But Mishca hadn’t gotten this far by making mistakes, and so long as he had allies, he would be fine.

But Lauren didn’t need to know any of that. When he’d agreed to this trip, he’d promised her that he would make it as normal for her—and Susan—as he could. He knew the ties his family had with them, and he didn’t want to disrupt their life by bringing in reminders of what his family had caused.

He agreed not to have security tail them while they were with her mother and Ross, but unbeknownst to her, he did have a few people who would be meeting them in Sardinia. Though he didn’t think anything of significance would happen while they were there, he would rather be safe than sorry.

JFK International came into view as they pulled up to the curb; Luka threw on the hazard lights as he climbed out. Mishca got out next, extending his hand to Lauren to pull her out.

It took no time at all for Luka to unload their luggage, but before they went off to enter the airport, Luka stopped them.

“Yo?”

Lauren glanced back at Luka, ever patient though she still looked reluctant to talk to him. Luka turned back to the car, reached across the front seat, and grabbed the small plant that Mishca had wondered about.

She looked just as confused as Mishca felt as Luka handed it over to her with a hopeful expression, digging his hands into his pockets as he rocked back on his heels.

“What is this?” she asked, turning it over in her hands, running her finger over one of the leaves.

“An olive branch.”

This meant nothing to Mishca, but whatever secret meaning it held for the two of them, it made Lauren smile slowly. Whatever consistent tension they had between them vanished at that moment.

She went to him, wrapping her arms around him, rising up to kiss his cheek. She whispered something in his ear, and he mumbled a response, neither of which Mishca could hear. But whatever was said made Lauren nod and smile again.

“We should get going,” Mishca called to her.

Luka slammed the trunk shut, moving to hug Mishca as well, stopping short when Mishca glared at him. “No worries, Boss. I’ll hold down the fort.”

As he headed around the back of the car toward the driver’s seat, Mishca called out to him, “Watch after Alex.”

His hands flexed into fists at his sides, but for once, the enforcer didn’t give a response.

* * *

True to Mishca’s word, it didn’t feel like they were connected to a Russian Mob syndicate once they were alone in the airport. It had actually been his idea to fly commercial as opposed to taking a private plane. In the crowded airport, as they waited to board, they sat in a relatively secluded corner next to an outlet. Lauren’s iPad was on the charger, and her legs were thrown over his even with the relatively small space they were in.

She hadn’t thought much of what it would be like to go on a trip like a “normal” married couple when she had booked this one, but now that it was just the two of them, no constant ringing phones, casual clothes, and zero security, she liked this idea more and more.

“Hungry?” he asked looking over at her.

“Just something to drink.”

He easily climbed to his feet, traveling well across the room to a row of vending machines. Before, it hadn’t been much of a surprise that Mishca garnered attention wherever he went, but now it was hard for Lauren not to notice the sideways stares—undoubtedly because of the press covering Mishca’s trial.

Mishca was accustomed to it—he had grown up in this life, after all—but she wasn’t, and it often bothered her when she saw it. Maybe it was the judgment that she saw in their eyes that she didn’t like.

He returned seconds later, two Gatorades in hand, reclaiming his seat beside her. “What’s that look for?”

Lauren took her time unscrewing the cap, taking a long sip of her drink, before finally answering. “Do you ever wonder what people think of you?”

He frowned, setting his own down so he could rest his hands on her left leg, slowly kneading the muscles in her calf. “What do you mean?”

“Since the trial, haven’t you noticed the looks?”

She gestured out in front of them where some of the people were still occasionally glancing over at them. When they noticed Lauren watching them, they quickly averted their eyes.

“They don’t matter. If you were to ever look at me like that, then I would care.”

Lauren fell silent, returning to her book although it was hard to focus on the words. Almost half an hour had passed before a woman came over the intercom to call for their gate.

Mishca carried the bags they were keeping on board, even loading them himself. First class was significantly different from coach. The flight attendants were friendlier, not to mention the amenities and perks that came with it. The seats were spacious, and there was more than enough room to recline the seats back without disturbing anyone else.

Lauren stepped into their row first, Mishca taking the seat closest to the aisle. As he opened his email, the screen of his laptop lighting up his face, Lauren peeked over to see what he was doing.

Within the email he was reading over, there was a set of photos attached, and while she hadn’t gotten the chance to read it, he did open up the attachments.

“What’s this for?” she asked, looking over the empty interior of what looked like a bar.

At least, that was what she thought it was. There was a section of the wall that had shelves built into it. It reminded her of a speakeasy from the late 1920s—dark hardwood floors, brick walls, and vintage lighting along the ceilings.

“The location where Roman is thinking of opening his business.”

“You never did explain why Roman was coming to you with this. I thought you said he doesn’t answer to you?”

Sometimes it was still weird for her to think of him as “the bastard son,” as he had introduced himself to Lauren at the rehearsal dinner several months ago. It had been a bit of a shock to learn that Viktor had any children—let alone Alex. Lauren knew very little about him besides the fact that he was a shitty person so that wasn’t much of a surprise.

He smiled without looking at her. “In the simplest of terms, we’re forming a sort of alliance. While Green Hill is its own place, it’s still fairly close to Brooklyn. To keep the peace, he offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse.”

Her hand drifted to his back where she knew the cross rested. She was curious to know more but knew that if she asked, he would find a way to evade giving an answer. She was actually surprised she had gotten this much from him.

“It won’t be anything too dangerous, right?” She had to ask.

Mishca sighed, shaking his head. “It’s complicated, but if you’re worried that it will affect us, it won’t.”

“Okay.” She leaned over, kissing his cheek, feeling his move beneath her lips as he smiled. “Thank you for this, by the way.”

“Anything for you.” His smile went from playful to mischievous. “Besides, I’m sure Ross is going to be thrilled to see me.”

* * *

It was a relatively short flight from New York to Michigan, and an even shorter wait to pick up the rental car.

“No.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to ask,” Lauren complained, grabbing hold of Mishca’s arm before he could take another step further. “Technically, we’re on vacation, and I deserve this. Besides, I know the area better than you and can get us there faster.”

“I love you. You know this, but I would like to love you for eternity, not just for now.”

She rolled her eyes though his words touched her. “If it matters that much to you, then I’ll drive slow.”

Mishca sighed long and hard, not wanting to agree, but knowing that he would eventually cave if she turned those beautiful golden eyes on him. Reluctantly, he tossed her the keys, trying not to look frightened as he got into the passenger seat and buckled in. Once she was in, he reached over, his hand curling around her thigh, but she sighed and gently removed his hand.

“I can’t drive with you doing that, Mish.”

He grimaced. “Probably for the best.”

“No worries, Mish. I love you too much to kill you.”

He believed that, but he still couldn’t help sitting up straight as they pulled off. Though they joked about it, Lauren wasn’t that bad of a driver, despite her rather constant need to drive above the speed limit. Another hour in the car and they finally passed the welcoming sign to her hometown.

The way she relaxed back into the seat, her smile soft and content, made him happier than he could express, glad that he could give this to her. He could remember the way she looked at him when the question of them coming to town for the wedding came up. She had been reluctant, not wanting to put him in the position of denying her request. But he knew, just from seeing her face that day, that no matter what she asked of him, even if it were virtually impossible to get, he would give it to her.

He could never imagine denying her anything.

Looking back out the window, he tried to see this town as she had described it to him. It was small, definitely, and he was so used to the constant string of people in New York that it was almost disconcerting seeing the rather vacant streets and only the occasional person on the sidewalk.

They made a left on Main Street, entering a residential neighborhood, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes skirted back and forth between the road and a house that was fast approaching. He knew, without her having to say, that that was her childhood home, and the place where it had all happened.

Posted in the yard was a “For Sale” sign, one that, while probably not the same one, had been sitting in that yard for as long as Lauren had been gone, from what she had told him once. Time changed things, warped memories, but from the expression on Lauren’s face, this house was as it had always been.

Though she had told him not to, he reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers.

She parallel parked, cutting the engine as she turned to face him. “I want to go in.”

“Lauren—”

“Just to see…”

Mishca sighed and finally agreed.

They walked onto the porch, and he watched her without speaking as she went over a spot she obviously knew well, running her fingers over a carving that was still there.

“Pardon me!”

Lauren jumped, spinning around to face the woman who was climbing out of her car, waving enthusiastically. If he had to guess, she was a real estate agent, and not one from around here, judging by the fact that the woman’s smile didn’t falter.

Mishca reached for Lauren, his hand sliding beneath the heavy fall of her hair, cupping the nape of her neck as his thumb rubbed soothingly over her skin, trying to ease the tension out of her.

“I shouldn’t have let you come here,” he said, barely above a whisper, but she shook her head.

“I’m fine.”

“We can—”

“Good morning! Are you two here for the open house?” The agent had a wide smile, and in another house maybe, she would have made a great salesperson.

Mishca smiled politely; he was ready to get Lauren out of there. “No, we—”

“Yes,” Lauren interrupted. “We’d love to have a look around.”

“Wonderful—oh, where are my manners—I’m Holly Chaplain.”

Lauren shook the woman’s hand, Mishca only offering a nod. “Lauren, and my husband, Mishca.”

Holly looked over them both—probably trying to assess whether or not they were serious buyers—then turned and unlocked the front door. She stepped through, waving her hand for them to follow.

Mishca didn’t move immediately, his eyes drifting to Lauren, waiting to see what she would do next. It had been more than a decade since she had been in this house, and it was clear that she was panicking at what she might see in there.

Clearing her throat, she walked in.

Holly immediately launched into a rehearsed speech about the beauty of the house and everything it had to offer, but neither of them was really listening. Lauren was busy staring over at the closet near the front door.

Mishca knew the specifics of the night, having tortured it out of two of the three involved. It was uncomfortable for him, knowing what she had suffered so long ago, even if he hadn’t been involved. He knew the pain and suffering it had caused her and Susan, and for that, he wished they were alive all over again so he could watch them die again, but slowly.

God, he couldn’t imagine what she had heard on the other side of that door, and just thinking about it cut him deeply.

“It’s time to go.”

She was still transfixed by the door, but at his command, she nodded. Without a word to Holly, he walked her out and back to the car, deciding it was best that he drive.

During the drive from that house to Susan and Ross’ new residence, Lauren gradually came back to herself, wiping every bit of the anxiousness from her face when she saw Susan and Ross waiting for them outside on the swing.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“We’ll talk about it later, yes?”

Susan’s face lit up as they came over to her, but Ross stood off to the side, arms folded across his chest, looking every bit of the homicide detective he had once been. The only time that scowl was gone from his face was when Lauren went in for a hug, rising up to kiss his cheek.

“Looking good, Ross,” she said, missing the glare he was sending Mishca over her shoulder. “Getting married is a good look for you.”

“Volkov treating you all right?”

“Of course.”

“It’s good to see you, Mishca.”

Mishca smiled at Susan, stepping into her embrace, though not for long as he felt the heat on the back of his neck from Ross’ glare.

Sure enough, when he turned, Ross was standing up straighter, narrowed eyes trained on Mishca. “Volkov.”

“Ross.”

If nothing else cheered her up, their interaction always amused Lauren.

“We’ll grab the bags,” Ross offered. “You two go on in and catch up.”

If he were a lesser man, Mishca might have protested, but instead, he sucked it up and followed his father-in-law out to the car.