That earns me a soft chuckle, but there’s no warmth in it. “That’s your job, brother. You’re not supposed to trust anymore.”
Exactly.
My father’s empire is like a chessboard, and Nikolai just walked in like the queen piece nobody saw coming.
He knows it.
I know it.
The air between us tightens as I take the last few steps toward my car. Viktor falls in at my shoulder, so fucking close that I catch the faint scent of his cologne, something sharp and clean, with a bite underneath.
“Don’t walk away from me, Benedikt. I came here to discuss something with you.”
“Not interested. Leave.”
“It’s a free city.”
I turn to face him, making sure I make shit perfectly clear. “It’smycity. I said fuckin’ leave.”
That earns me a low chuckle. “We’ll see.”
I hate that my pulse ticks faster, that even now, after everything—after the years I’ve put in cleaning up the messes he left behind—there’s still a part of me that thinks he could take it all back in a single move.
Nikolai always had that kind of presence. Reckless, yes. Chaotic, definitely. But charismatic enough that people followed him straight into hell without asking questions.
He slides his sunglasses down just enough for me to see his eyes. There’s a glint there, something sharp and knowing, like that gives him an edge. “So. Are you coming to the dinner tomorrow night?”
“No.”
“You should.” He approaches my car with lazy grace, like this conversation’s a casual drop-in rather than an ambush. “Father’s making a whole event of it. The ‘coming home’ celebration.” He gives the words weight, mocking and proud at the same time. “It’s been years since I’ve been back at that table. You’ll want to make an appearance.”
“I’ve been making appearances,” I say. “You’ve been in prison.”
“Unfair characterization.” His mouth curves. “I was…indisposed.”
I almost laugh at how ridiculous he’s being.
But then he tilts his head again, studying me with that slow, predatory curiosity, and my guard goes back up.
“You’ll come, though. Wouldn’t want Father thinking you’re avoiding me.”
“Why would that matter? And I am avoiding you, Nikolai. Let me make that perfectly clear?—”
“You know how muchDadliked having us together. To discuss business…trade deals…about our lives.”
“And you have so much to tell over the years?”
“Depends.”
I knew I was going to this dinner, I just didn’t know it was coming so soon. Our father hasn’t mentioned it again and, if I stay away, it would only make it look like I’m hiding something.
“Well, then I can’t wait to hear those tales behind bars,” I say finally. “I’ll be there. And I’ll need a space set up for my fiancée.”
That gets him. His brows lift, and for a moment, the amusement fades into something sharper. “Fiancée?”
“Fiancée,” I repeat.
“That’s funny.” He leans one shoulder against the car again, casual as ever. “Father hasn’t mentioned her. And as far as I can tell, there haven’t been any sightings of you with anyone serious. No dinners. No galas. No photographs. Nothing in the papers.”
