Page 13 of Deadly Legacy
“We could simply outbid them,” Alexei suggested, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Matthew Capital has the resources.”
Reuben shook his head. “Higher bids will attract too much attention from federal regulators. The SEC loves nothing more than unusual capital movements. We need to keep this clean.”
“Clean?” Grigorii snorted, downing his vodka in one swift motion. “Dmitrii already made it dirty.”
“He means legally clean,” Alexei translated with a playful glint in his eyes, swirling his vodka. “Our finance wizard here prefers his SEC filings spotless, don’t you, Reuben?”
“Correct,” Reuben nodded, leaning forward to accept his glass. “We’ve built relationships with these developers for months. We understand their technology better than Wallace ever could.”
The vodka burned a path down Nikon’s throat, leaving behind a lingering heat that spread through his limbs. “Reuben handles the business angle. Meanwhile, we apply pressure to Wallace.”
“What kind of pressure?” Grigorii’s eyebrows rose as he poured himself another measure.
“The kind that makes him... reconsider his new friendship,” Nikon replied. “But subtly. We don’t want to spook him into Dmitrii’s arms completely.”
Reuben’s eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on a point beyond the room—that distant gaze Nikon had learned to read as Reuben’s mind connecting invisible dots into a coherent picture.
“Please, brother,” Alexei pressed a hand to his chest in feigned offense. “I’m an artist, not a thief. Perhaps some accounting discrepancies that require tedious explanations.”
“Do it,” Nikon nodded, then turned to Reuben. “You still have a meeting with Quantize Guard’s founders tomorrow?”
“Yes. A final review before their decision next week.” Reuben’s fingers brushed along the rim of his glass. “I’ll probe gently about what Wallace offered them.”
Grigorii refilled his glass, the liquid catching the light. “We should also increase security around us all. If Dmitrii is moving against us this way, he might try other approaches.”
“Agreed,” Nikon said. “But keep it discreet. I don’t want Reuben’s business contacts spooked by obvious security.”
Reuben’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then looked up. “My seven o’clock dinner reservation just confirmed.”
Nikon caught the subtle message—their planned evening together. Despite everything, a flicker of anticipation settled low in his stomach.
“We have covered enough for today,” Grigorii declared, drawing the meeting to a close. “Alexei, start on those financial irregularities. Nikon, coordinate with security. And Reuben—” he paused, his expression softening almost imperceptibly. “Keep doing what you do best.Out-think them.”
As they filed out of the study, Nikon caught Reuben’s elbow. “Still up for dinner?”
“Absolutely,” Reuben said, his green eyes brightening. “I think we’ve earned it.”
Inside, the restaurant buzzed with the quiet hum of expensive conversation. A hostess with a practiced smile led them to a corner table with an unobstructed view of the skyline. Nikonselected the seat with his back to the wall, a habit so ingrained he no longer thought about it.
“This is nice,” Reuben said, unfolding his napkin. “No security briefings, no financial reports. Just us.”
“Just us,” Nikon agreed, though his eyes automatically cataloged exits, staff positions, and nearby diners.
The bottle of wine they ordered arrived promptly. As the sommelier poured, Nikon watched Reuben’s face in the soft lighting. It highlighted his features, revealing the subtle transformation that months of training with Stepan had brought. It had brought a new definition to his profile, a quiet confidence in his posture that hadn’t been there before.
“You were impressive today,” Nikon said once they were alone. “The way you analyzed your father’s company.”
Reuben’s fingers traced the stem of his wineglass. “Easier to treat it as a case study than think of it as my father’s life work crumbling.”
“Does it bother you? Competing against him?”
“Less than it should, probably.” Reuben took a sip of wine. “He stopped being my father the day he disowned me. Now he’s just another corporate rival.”
Nikon didn’t believe that for a second, but he let it pass. For now. “To corporate rivals, then,” he said, raising his glass.
Their dinner arrived—perfectly seared steaks for them both—the rich aroma of truffle and butter sauce wafting up from the plates. Nikon breathed in deeply, momentarily distracted by the scent.
“See something you like?” Reuben asked with a chuckle, noticing Nikon’s gaze lingering on him rather than the food.
