The Final Hour Read online

  Laughing, he stood. “I’ll see you later for the rehearsal dinner. You probably should take a shower before you go. You kind of smell like a brewery.”

  The door was already slammed shut behind him by the time the pillow she threw made it to that side.

  The spa was everything she had hoped it would be. By the end of the day, the raging headache she’d been fighting all morning had faded to nothing. Her nails and toes were done in a pale pink color, her hair washed and highlighted.

  Later that night, as she listened to the night outside, she couldn’t wipe the grin off her face if she tried. Tomorrow was the day everything would change.

  But first she had to make it through tonight.

  It was the night before the wedding, and following Alex’s schedule, tonight was the rehearsal dinner. Half of the people here, Lauren didn’t recognize. She knew that Mishca’s side would outnumber hers, especially since she didn’t have much family in the first place, but she didn’t realize just how many people would come out to celebrate with them. The only time she had seen this many of Mishca’s family was during Christmas at the manor.

  She vaguely recognized a few of them and spoke accordingly, but when she felt Mishca tense next to her, she tuned out of the conversation she was having to see what was wrong.

  His gaze was directed towards a man walking through the doors, no older than Mishca. He had longish black hair and the coldest gray eyes Lauren had ever seen. His mouth was set in a mulish line, like he never smiled, and from the way he was carrying himself, Lauren had to wonder why he had come if he wasn’t happy to be there.

  While others made an attempt to speak to him, he never acknowledged them, his eyes sweeping over the room until they landed on Lauren and Mishca. He started in their direction, and with each step he took, the more Lauren became aware of the escalating tension. Whoever he was, it was clear he and Mishca didn’t get along.

  Almost imperceptibly, Mishca took a step forward, angling his body in front of Lauren’s. The action made the man’s mouth twitch, but otherwise, he continued forward, not heeding the warning Mishca was giving off. It was rare that Lauren ever saw anyone that was taller than Mishca, but whoever this man was, he had Mishca by a few inches.

  He could not have been much older, but it was hard to discern since the majority of the men Mishca associated with wore facial hair—with the exception of Luka.

  He didn’t hesitate to extend his hand to Lauren, ignoring Mishca altogether. “Roman Pavlov.”

  The name didn’t sound familiar to her, but she might have dismissed it just as soon as she had heard it.

  “It’s—”

  “Chto ty delayesh’ zdes’—What are you doing here?”

  Roman smirked, finally turning his attention to Mishca. “To celebrate.”

  Before Mishca could question him any further, Lauren asked, “Who are you?”

  With a completely serious face, he answered, “Viktor Volkov’s bastard son.”

  That explained the animosity…she thought, but it wasn’t like he sounded proud that he was Viktor’s son, only that he was the ‘bastard son’.

  “Right. So, are you here to kill me or Mish?” Both of them looked at her like she was speaking another language. “What? It’s a pretty reasonable question all things considered, but let’s just be honest here. I’m really not in the mood for violence tonight. If you do have a vendetta, could it wait a few hours? Besides, if Mishca doesn’t kill you first, Luka’s crazy ass will get you. Understood?”

  While his smile didn’t reach his eyes, his lips did turn up. Inclining his head, he said, “Completely,” then proceeded through the room towards a table away from the crowd.

  “You have a twin brother no one knows about, now you have a cousin that randomly shows up. Who’s next? An aunt that’s a long distant relative of Luka’s that’s the secret wife of Vlad?” Lauren asked dryly, grabbing a glass of wine from a passing waiter’s tray.

  While his attention was still focused on Roman, he did respond. “You met him at the manor actually.”

  “Did I?” She tried to think back to that night, but there was so much surrounding that memory that she couldn’t be sure of anything. “Any more surprises tonight?”

  “God, I hope not.”

  “How did he even know to come here?” Lauren asked.

  He shoved a hand through his hair, as he always did when he was frustrated—she was surprised he still had a full head of hair. “When my delightful sister sent out invitations, she sent them out to the entire family. And if he hadn’t received an invite, I’m sure someone told him of it.”

  “Does Alex know about him?” It seemed like an appropriate enough question when they didn’t share the same last name.

  “Yes, but she hasn’t brought him up and I don’t plan to.”

  It wasn’t too long ago that Alex had learned the truth of her parentage, and while Roman might have been her half-brother as compared to Mishca technically being her cousin, in Lauren’s eyes, she would never think to tell her Mishca wasn’t her brother. Not only wasn’t it her place, but that would be causing her more pain than she needed. If Mishca wasn’t bringing him up, Lauren wouldn’t either.

  Besides Roman, there was no one else of interest that arrived at the dinner. All of Mishca’s family and associates were polite, though reserved, and if they disapproved of what Mishca was doing, they didn’t speak it aloud.

  The table the immediate family would be sitting at reminded Lauren of the one at the manor, the length of it sitting everyone comfortably. Down one side was Susan and Ross, then Amber, Tristan, and Matt, with an empty seat for Lauren next to Susan, then Mishca’s seat, and next to him was Alex and Vlad. Luka decided to drag a chair up so he was sitting at the front of the room too.

  As Mishca and Lauren took their seats, the dinner show started. Waiters came in one after the other, silver domed trays precariously balanced on the tips of their fingers as they glided around the room, placing the dishes on the plates, unveiling the food beneath. Lauren would have been more than happy in an average run-of-the-mill restaurant, but since she had promised to let Alex be in charge, she accepted it, not that it was much of a hardship with what she was seeing now.

  Once people were eating, conversations began to pick up again. More surprisingly, Lauren’s friends looked like they were having a good time as they talked with Mishca’s younger relatives. Though she had never voiced the fear, Lauren had always wondered how her side and Mishca’s side would get along.

  Even Ross was having a polite, albeit short, conversation with an older gentleman and his wife.

  By the time dinner was midway through, Lauren couldn’t wipe the grin from her face if she tried. It wasn’t just that she was enjoying herself, it was also because Mishca’s enjoyment was infectious. She had never seen him so happy, so alive in that single moment compared to when he was constantly burdened by his obligations.

  “Want to try my duck?” Lauren asked, spearing a piece and holding it up to Mishca’s mouth.

  “I would like to try something else,” he said quietly, accepting the food she offered him.

  Her entire body flushed with what he was suggesting, the need for him only growing. He didn’t take his eyes from her, watching her reaction, that single dimple in his cheek showing as he smiled.

  “You’re insatiable,” she responded, her voice sounding breathless even to her.

  God, she thought he had exhausted her last night, but from the look in his eyes, there was a lot more in store for her when they got home.

  “Ahem, that must be some amazing duck,” Alex’s voice cut in, dripping with amusement as she cleared her throat dramatically.

  “You have no idea,” Lauren replied cutting another piece.

  While the Christmas dinner at the manor had been a stoic affair, Lauren was surprised at how easygoing most of Mishca’s family were. They spoke to her openly in broken English, ever patient as she tried to speak to them in Russian.

  It
wasn’t until the newcomer arrived that conversations became stilted.

  The silence in the room was deafening as Mikhail walked into the private room. Lauren had wondered whether or not he would be a part of the wedding—she never thought he approved, and Mishca never mentioned it—but she was more worried about Ross’ reaction to him.

  He was being a good sport about it, keeping his opinion about Misha to himself most of the time, but Lauren knew there was only so much he could take.

  Then, there was also Susan.

  She and Lauren both knew that he was the one to have given Lauren’s father the loan for medical school, and he was the reason Cameron had ever been involved with the Volkovs.

  It was only a matter of time that they all cross paths.

  Wiping his mouth with the linen napkin, Mishca tossed it onto the table, climbing to his feet, ready to intercept Mikhail before he came any further, but the Mafia Boss waved his hand.

  “There is no need for such formalities, Mishca.” His voice sounding impossibly louder in the room. “I can seat myself.”

  Lauren could feel the anger coming off of Mishca as he, grudgingly, sank back down. Alex, whose easy smile was already falling, went stiff next to Mishca. While Lauren didn’t realize it, this was the first time since her revelation about Alex’s parents, that Mikhail and Alex had been in the same room together. It made sense, since Alex had been living in the city with Mishca, but it also made Lauren feel bad for how sad Alex now looked.

  Since they hadn’t planned on Mikhail’s attendance, that threw the seating off, since family was seated directly beside Mishca and Lauren. That would mean Alex would have to sit on the other side of Mikhail, and no one looked happy at that prospect.

  And from the way Mikhail determinedly walked towards what he assumed was his seat, Lauren thought of something fast.

  “Mish, why don’t you switch seats with Alex,” Lauren suggested quietly.

  “Lauren—” Alex protested looking pained.

  “No, it’s fine. It’s the rehearsal dinner.”

  With a grateful look from Mishca, he stepped to the side, giving Alex his chair as a waiter brought another one for Mikhail.

  Lauren glanced over at Susan, trying to read her. She forced a smile, patting Lauren’s hand where it rested on the arm of her chair.

  She leaned over to whisper, “Tonight is about you and Mishca. Don’t worry about me.”

  If Lauren had never told her how grateful she was that she had her, as soon as the dinner was over, she would. Oblivious to Mishca’s escalating rage, Mikhail sat, gazing out impassively at the others. It was like his presence alone had made them all shut down, sucking the life out of them.

  For the next fifteen minutes or so, they all ate in tense silence, just the sound of scraping utensils along plates heard throughout the room. Even Lauren’s friends recognized that something was off now that Mikhail was there.

  Lauren had only been to a couple of weddings in her lifetime, all of them when she was too young to remember many of the details, but she had never actually been to a rehearsal dinner before. She’d heard about them, of course, and knew that there would be toasts made, but she had thought that it would be the best man and the maid of honor…not the groom’s father.

  When Mikhail stood, tapping his glass to get everyone’s attention, Lauren got a sinking feeling in her gut. It was something about his demeanor that told her his toast wouldn’t be nearly as carefree as what Amber might have come up with.

  “I’d like to make a toast,” Luka said jumping to his feet before Mikhail could say a word of his ‘speech’, earning a groan from nearly every single person in the room.

  Lauren bit back a smile at his disgruntled look. She didn’t care whether he was going to say something off the wall, just glad that he spoke up before Mikhail could. She didn’t think she was ready to hear what Mikhail had to say.

  But Mikhail was not amused, his glower focused solely on Luka. “Sit down. Eto prikaz—That is an order!”

  Now, it wasn’t just an awkwardness filling the room, but a healthy dose of fear as well. Maybe not Lauren’s family and friends, but everyone else knew what those words meant.

  Beneath the table, Alex reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. In their world, blood hardly meant anything, and Lauren knew how abrasive Mikhail could be. She could only imagine how he’d been treating—if he even saw her—Alex since he found out about Viktor and Anya’s affair.

  Lauren squeezed back, wanting to offer her any comfort she could. She sought Mishca’s gaze, wanting to convey a message to him without having to speak aloud—she didn’t want to chance Mikhail’s anger turning on her, but he was looking up at Mikhail with so much hatred in his eyes that she had to wonder how he stopped himself from lashing out at his father.

  “It is not common for members of our family to marry outside of the accepted families, but my son has never been one to follow rules.”

  That was met with a few awkward laughs, but it was unclear whether Mikhail meant that statement as a compliment or an insult. And that was the problem with the entirety of his speech as he went on. Lauren didn’t know whether to be offended or…no, she was offended.

  “I met young Lauren some time ago, and I can tell you that she is not the same timid girl she used to be. Even my son has learned a thing or two from her, which was surprising enough since he is the elder of the two.”

  Lauren gulped, placing her glass on the table, not even pretending to enjoy his speech any longer. The only reason she was still sitting at the table was because she didn’t want t make a scene. She chanced a glance over at Ross, and it was clear that he was barely restraining himself from snapping at Mikhail, Susan having a white-knuckled grip on his wrist.

  It was fear, Lauren knew, that kept anyone from speaking up, and she wouldn’t have asked any of them to go up against the Pakhan for her.

  Except, Mishca wasn’t anyone, and he wasn’t about to let it happen.

  Mishca was on his feet in the next second, his eyes furious, his mouth open to snap something at Mikhail, but a loud crash at the end of the table made everyone turn and look in Luka’s direction. His dishes and all of his food was on the floor, like he might have knocked it over by accident, but judging from the expression on his face, it hadn’t been an accident.

  “Oops. Great speech though, no?” His tone was challenging and Lauren didn’t doubt that if they weren’t in a room full of witnesses, Mikhail might have killed him on the spot.

  Mikhail turned to Mishca, who was still standing, and Lauren, his glass aloft. “Welcome to the family.”

  He drank first, then everyone else following suit…except for their table. Setting his empty glass on the table, Mikhail wiped his mouth, dropping his linen napkin on the table.

  “Before you go,” Alex said, her voice soft at first, then growing stronger. “You should at least stay for the next toast. It’s proper etiquette.”

  To be honest, Lauren didn’t care who else planned on giving one because anything would be better than what Mikhail had just said.

  “Finally,” Luka started, about to climb to his feet. “I’ve been waiting—”

  “Save your toast for the actual wedding,” Alex interrupted him as everyone laughed. Instead, she took over his toast. “I think it’s safe to say that I know Mishca better than anyone in this room—” She turned a smile on Lauren. “—Except for Lauren, of course. And in eighteen years, I have never seen him as happy as he is with her. I never thought I would see the day that Mish settled down with someone, especially someone as great as Lauren—I still don’t know what she’s thinking.”

  Lauren laughed, already in a better mood. This was what she had wanted, something light-hearted, and overall good vibes.

  “You’ve brought out the best in him, and I couldn’t be more honored to have you join the family, but not just you. Your family and friends are amazing as well, and while our side can be a bit off the wall—”

  “Hey!�
�� Luka shouted from his end, indignantly.

  “We’re glad to have you. Cheers to you and Mish.”

  This time, the toast was far more relaxed, and everyone drank to that, but Mishca wasn’t appeased. Not by a long shot.

  He drained his glass and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, walking behind Lauren to kiss the top of her head.

  In her ear, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  Turning away, he shrugged on his jacket, growling something at Mikhail that she couldn’t hear. They all left—Mishca, Vlad, Luka, Mikhail, and his security. If it was not for Vlad and Luka going with him, Lauren would have been afraid of what mishca would do.

  Lauren was afraid to know what her side was thinking after this, but when she looked over at them, Tristan was shaking his head, his different colored eyes glinting with mischief.

  “You had to go marry into a crazy ass Russian family, didn’t you?”

  Even Alex laughed.

  Mishca kept a straight face the entire way from the dining hall to just outside the restaurant. He had gotten better at that, learning how to control his appearance when he couldn’t control his temper, but once Mikhail was on the sidewalk with him, away from the eyes of everyone inside, Mishca didn’t hold back.

  He had just grabbed hold of the front of Mikhail’s shirt, ready to tear into him when he was hauled back by Vlad, Mikhail’s security quickly moving in as though they wanted to grab Mishca too. Luka, not caring that they were in public—despite the street being empty—pulled out two guns from behind his back, pointing one at each of their heads. The stopped immediately. It was no secret that he had a twitchy trigger finger.

  “What the fuck was that?” Mishca demanded. “Are you trying to go to war with me, potomu chto ya gotov dlya odnogo—because I’m ready for one.”

  Mishca had warned him what he would do if he came near Lauren again, and this stunt he pulled definitely counted in Mishca’s eyes.

  “You are a fool,” Mikhail said to him, fire in his eyes. “What do you really expect to come of this? Happiness? Fulfillment? I live for the day you regret this decision. I long for it. Then you will know that there is nothing more for you in this life besides those damned stars you were given.”