Page 90 of Mafia and Scars

I sit down at my desk, telling myself to stay calm while I talk this out with him. I pick up and pretend to read a shipping manifest. “It’s for the kids.”

“The kids are gonna be in here all day long as well?”he practically yells.

“No.” I turn a page. “But they might visit. And if Avelina ever needs to bring the kids in here, they’ll need a place to sit that isn’t a desk piled with ammunition.”

Grigory squints like my last sentence was a complex statement. “Our arms-dealing HQ has been turned into a creche.” His tone isaccusatory and still full of anger. “I just tripped over a bucket of dinosaurs,” he seethes.

“You’ll survive. For God’s sake, it’s a bucket of plastic toys, not a lethal bomb.”

Grigory waves toward the drinks cabinet. “And this? There’s a pink glitter step-stool in front of my liquor shelf. And juice cartons where my vodka should be. What the fuck?”

“It’s in case someone under three feet tall gets thirsty.Obviously.”

Grigory collapses into the chair at his desk, and his face twists as he sees the stuffed animals lined up on the opposite windowsill. “You can’t expect me to work in these conditions. It’s like I’ve suddenly got seventy-two fluffy stalkers!”

“It’sseventeenactually,” I correct him. “You are prone to exaggeration.”

He stands back up, his volume rising. “What’s she going to do next? Sprinkle some fairy dust on our files? Oh, I get it, you think offering her this job and childcare setup will get her to stay longer? Morepermanently?”

“No.” My denial is immediate.

“This is a gun-running operation, not a damn daycare. So, don’t get any ideas that we’ll be playing with plushies and Play-Doh during the arms deals, got it?”

That’s it. I fling the shipping documents to the side and shove back my chair.

But Grigory keeps going as I stand. “What’s next? Finger painting the financial reports? You want us to hold hands and singIf You’re Happy and You Know Itwhile laundering our money, just to keep some woman sweet?”

“That’s enough!” I roar.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?”

I step around my desk and square up. “She’s not responsible for these toys.I am. The play corner wasmyidea, andIbought the kids some new toys from the store yesterday.”

Grigory blinks. “You…bought the rocket ship?”

“Yes.”

“And those stupid stuffed toys?”

“Yes. I picked them out myself.”

“And thatfucking glitter stool?”

“Yes.” I rub the back of my neck. “It was, er, on clearance.”

He stares like I’ve told him I’ve announced I’m giving up killing and am going to try and win the Nobel Peace Prize. Then he hesitates. But only for a second. “You’ve gone soft, Viktor. This is all to do with those dumb animals. You were fine until you found that cat, and then you added the dog, and now you’re adding a woman and kids. Fuck me!”

“Why is this so hard for you to understand, Grigory?”

“How much does she know exactly about what we do?”

“Enough. Babulya said she asked a few questions and knows that we’re Bratva. But she also knows that she’s safer here with us, especially while we don’t know what Geliy’s gotten himself involved in.”

He grimaces again. “There’s a stuffed hippo on top of the gun safe,” he splutters. “Wearing my best silk tie!”

“Rhino,” I grit out.

“What?”