Page 115 of Mafia and Scars

He shakes his head gravely. “Size doesn’t matter. See thesefluffyhorns? Dangerous. See thissoftbutton nose? It can smell fear and hunt down scaredy-cats like me in an instant.” He leans closer, whispering like it’s a top-secret confession. “I think he is plotting to take over my office.”

Sofia gasps, clutching Mr. Hugglehorn to her chest. “Don’t worry! I’ll protect you!”

“Thank you, little one. You are very brave.”

She beams—and pats his cheek like he’s her favorite puppy.

I wince, waiting for his reaction.

But all he does is…chuckle. And a low, rumble vibrates through the air.

“It’s time for Mr. Hugglehorn’s nap now,” she announces in a solemn voice. “But you can help me with the llama tea party.”

Grigory’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well, I don’t think, uh…”

I know I should save him from this, but something stops me and makes me just watch.

Soon, Grigory—the terrifying, scowling, perpetually grumpy Pakhan—is kneeling on the office rug like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His tailored black suit is creased, his tie skewed, and his massive hands are delicately arranging plastic teacups in a perfect circle as if they’re priceless artifacts.

Across from him, Sofia sits cross-legged, her curls bouncing as she chatters. “No, no, Lord Llama Llama sitshere.” She taps the head of the rug before plopping the stuffed llama in his correct place. “Helikesthe pink cup.”

Grigory doesn’t even blink. “Pink cup for Lord Llama Llama. Got it.” His deep, gravelly voice is so serious you’d think they were negotiating a peace treaty instead of a tea party.

Sofia nods with satisfaction. “And Princess Sparkle Llama likes the blue cup.”

“Understood. One blue cup for the princess.” He carefully places it in front of the second stuffed llama, his large hands moving with surprising precision.

I bite back a smile as he shifts carefully, clearly trying not to crush a tiny plastic saucer with his polished shoes.

“Wait,” Sofia gasps. “We need asign,so everyone knows this is Sparkle Llama Land.”

Grigory raises one dark brow. “A sign?”

She leans forward, lowering her voice like she’s sharing a state secret. “No sign means no kingdom. It’s Llama Law.”

He nods solemnly, fully committed. “Can’t have that. Llama Laws must be obeyed.”

He grabs a sheet of printer paper and a thick marker. His handwriting is bold, precise, and perfectly straight as he prints:Sparkle Llama Land.Then he holds it out for Sofia’s inspection.

She scrunches her little nose. “It needs a sticker,” she declares, pulling out a crumpled pink sticker from the pocket of her skirt. And without a word, this terrifying man steadies the paper while she sticks the glittery heart onto it.

“There,” Sofia says proudly. “Now everyone will know.”

“Indeed,” Grigory says gravely, holding it up like it’s a royal decree. “Sparkle Llama Land is officially open for business.”

My throat tightens a little as I watch them. One of the scariest men I’ve ever met…carefully negotiating tea party etiquette with my daughter and a llama named Lord Llama Llama.

I still don’t know what to make of Grigory at times, but something tells me that perhaps his bark is worse than his bite—although he’s determined for people not to know it.

Later, the cursor on my screen blinks like it’s taunting me. I’m supposed to be inputting the shipping invoices Viktor gave me. But my brain isn’t focusing long enough to do anything.

I keep thinking about the way Viktor looked at me, haloed by the porch light two days ago. Like I was some saving grace. It’s distracting, these thoughts making me tingle all over. And the ache between my legs is all his doing.

I glance toward the open door, listening to the faint murmur of the TV in the den and the gentle rocking of Babulya’s chair creaking.

I sigh, and Viktor looks up from the desk across from mine with an eyebrow arched. I give him a smile. I don’t want to tell him how distracted I am. How I can smell whatever aftershave he’s used—and it’s making my head spin. I’m here to work. I have to earn my keep.

Soft footsteps scamper into the room, and I turn to see Sofia lingering by the door. Her expression is pinched. She knocks even though she doesn’t need to.