Page 20 of Mafia and Scars

By now, Geliy and the other men have come over to see what the commotion is about.

“Oh, don’t mind that,” Geliy drawls.

Not likely. “Why the hell is your luggage squawking?” I growl at him.

“It’s ababy, dumbass.”

“Okay,dumbass, but you said you were collecting yourluggageearlier and definitely didn’t say anything about a baby.”

He gives a casual shrug. “Semantics.”

I really, really hate it when people don’t just say what they mean.

Geliy shoves his hands into his pockets. “Look, my ex dumped him with me.”

“What the hell is going on?” Nikolai says as he and Matvey come over.

The baby coos loudly, and I can feel my brow scrunching as I study the infant with green eyes and coppery curls. I put my gun away. “Why didn’t you tell me you have a kid?”

“Didn’t think it mattered. Like I said, my ex, Avelina, is on some dumb vacation and couldn’t take the baby. She’s a flighty bitch.Anyway, you won’t even notice Leon’s here. Plus, Avelina is, um, about to start the trip back home, so she’ll be here to finally take him back soon.”

“This isn’t what we agreed,” I grit out.

“What’s the big deal? He’ll be no trouble. He’s practically self-sufficient.”

“It’s ababy,” I huff. “They need stuff all the time.”

Geliy waves his hand dismissively. “It’s easy. I barely pay attention to him, and he’s just fine. Look at him.”

Jesus, what is wrong with this man? Nikolai and I exchange glances as Matvey sighs deeply. “Grigory has to have the final say,” I say slowly.

“Perfect! We can ask him, and then I can run that idea by him.”

“I don’t think that’s?—”

“C’mon, man.” Geliy slings his arm around my shoulder, the contact making my body go rigid. “Just five minutes and Grigory will be so glad to hear my business plan!”

“And what idea is that?”

I step away from Geliy’s touch as Grigory’s large frame comes into view from around the corner.

“There’s a bit of a problem,” I say, ignoring how Geliy drops himself onto an armchair like he owns the fucking place.

“What kind of problem?” Grigory asks.

I step to the side, showing the baby in his car seat, his cheeks ruddy and his curls falling over his eyes.

Grigory freezes. His gaze flickers from the baby to me, then back to the baby. “Is it…”

“No, it’s definitely not mine,” I say in a hurry.

Grigory makes a face as he nods. “Then whose is it?”

“He belongs to Geliy. I didn’t know he had a kid when I said he could stay here.”

Grigory’s cold gaze moves to Geliy, and the man flinches. Most people do. Grigory has a look that sizes people up in a split second, and he’s honed it over the years into something even his bastard of a father would be proud of.

“The mother?” Grigory asks.