Page 105 of Mafia and Scars

Dead silence meets his statement.

I shift from one foot to the other, my hand instinctively curling into a fist.

“Viktor here,” Grigory says, motioning toward me like I’m some prized poodle at a damn dog show, “is taking Avelina out for dinner. And we’re gonna help make sure he doesn’t make an ass out of himself.”

I want the ground to swallow me whole.

Nikolai blinks. “Wait…are you serious?”

“Yeah. Now sit the fuck down.”

They all do as he says, albeit some more reluctant than others. Nikolai stares at me like I just sprouted antlers. “You? Dating?” he says slowly.

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” I say as I rub the back of my neck.

Matvey lets out a low whistle. “I didn’t realize it was that serious.”

“I’m out,” Nikolai declares, shoving back his chair and heading for the door.

“Sit down!” Grigory growls. “Brothers are always here for each other.”

Nikolai seems to have forgiven me for the drone incident, but he still isn’t convinced by Grigory’s idea. “Look, Viktor, you know I’d lay down my life for you, but can’t I just take you to a strip joint if you want some pussy?”

“You all need to shut the fuck up,” Grigory snaps. He’s clearly already losing patience with us all, and that’s a bad sign. “This is how we’re going to do it.” He points to the corner where an old folding table sits surrounded by mismatched chairs. “That table is the restaurant. Viktor, you’re on a date. Nikolai, you’re playing Avelina.”

“Fuck, no!” Nikolai blurts out. “Why do I have to be the girl?”

Grigory glares at him, a murderous look in his eyes.

“Okay, okay, but I ain’t wearing a pink dress or any other girly shit,” Nikolai whines.

“Not like you wear shit that fits right anyway,” Matvey mutters.

Nikolai flips him off before Grigory whistles sharply. “Stop behaving like fucking children,” Grigory yells. “Focus. Alright, Viktor, you’re going to pick her up.”

“Pick her up? But she’s living with us already.” My hesitation is clear.

“Walk over there,” Grigory sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Act like you’re meeting her on the stairs or some shit. Be human for five seconds, okay?”

I look at him and then shove from my chair. Approaching slowly, my palms are already sweating—and this is only the fucking fake practice run. My chest tightens.

Nikolai stands awkwardly by the door. He mutters a Russian curse under his breath before he sighs. “Hello, Viktor,” he says in some annoying high-pitched voice that sounds more deranged than anything. “I’m Avelina. And I wore this just for you,babykins,” he announces as he smooths down his shirt.

I blink rapidly. Laughter erupts in the room, and I grit my teeth, hand clenching and unclenching.

“For fuck’s sake,” Grigory says as he glares at the snickering men. “Viktor, once you get to the restaurant, you need to sit down.”

I stare at him for a long second before rushing to get to the chairopposite the wall, snatching it from Nikolai before he can sit in it like he’s clearly planning to.

“What the hell are you doing now?” Grigory clips.

I point to the TV screen on the wall, the one I like to watch the figure skating on. “It faces the screen,” I mutter.

A collective groan sounds, and Matvey chucks a stale donut at my head. “You’re going on a date, Viktor. There won’t be a TV screen to watch,” Matvey says. “And you should be pulling out a chair for her, not practically shoving her out of the way and ripping it out of her hold.”

I sit stiffly across from Nikolai—Avelina—and look at my hands. My stomach flips. The silence drags on. I count the grooves in the wood of the table.

“Viktor, talk,” Grigory says, his tone terse.