Page 23 of Inheritance
Arguing with my father had clouded my judgment. Too late it clicked—of course he’d be there, fresh off an alliance with the Russians who control the place.
Nikolai turned to me, staring over his prominent nose with those calculating, beady eyes. His gaunt frame seemed even more skeletal as he clasped his hands together, turning one over the other.
“Think of it,” he said, voice deliberate. “There’s a good chance Ivan will be there again next week. We can lay a trap for him, and once we have him, we’ll find out where he’s keeping your sister.”
“It could work,” I admitted, “it’s clear the so-called neutral parties we’ve worked with are flocking to the Sinclairs. If we cause a scene, that’ll just make things worse for us.”
Nikolai countered, “If you take out Ivan and get your sister back, the other families will see it as a reason to stay neutral—or better yet, flock back to your family.”
“If we cause a scene on neutral ground, we will be completely isolated. Our respect will be gone.” I had to repeat myself, but his eyes just darted in thought, like he was searching for the right combination of words to change my mind.
Damien pushed off the wall, finally joining the conversation.
“It’s not neutral ground anymore. I say we grab him when he leaves the museum. Bring him here. Spend some quality time together.”
“A fine idea,” Nikolai said with a slight nod.
Damien smirked. “Two against one, Gabriel. It’s decided.”
I looked at my brother with a measured harshness. “I decide.”
For a moment, Nikolai’s face darkened with resentment, but it vanished so quickly I couldn’t be sure I hadn’t imagined it.
“Don’t you want Caroline back?” Damien asked, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. The same way it had been when he was younger. He caught himself and clenched his jaw.
“Of course I do. But if you want to convince me with a plan, you need a better one. We don’t even know if he’ll be there next week. Odds are it was a one-time thing for him to go personally.”
Nikolai leaned toward me, a sly grin twisting his mouth. “You could?—”
“Enough,” I snapped, cutting him off. I turned to leave the room.
“Fucking typical,” Damien muttered under his breath.
“You won’t do what’s needed to save our sister. You’re a fucking coward.”
I stopped. Turned. My jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. Damien stepped forward, closing the distance, but I beat him to it. My fist caught him square in the jaw with a loud crack. He toppledback, clutching his face, but stayed on his feet. Then he growled and swung at me.
I deflected. His fist slammed into the wall by my head, and his other hand caught me in the ribs.
We grappled. I twisted his arm behind his back. He groaned as I growled through clenched teeth, “I said, enough.”
He bared his bloodied teeth in a defiant grin.
I threw him into the bookshelf lining the far wall. Wood snapped. Books rained down as he crumpled to the floor. I crouched over him, foot on his chest, glaring into his daring eyes until the will to fight left them.
“That’s what I thought.”
I straightened, the ache in my ribs a sharp reminder Damien was almost as strong as I was.
“Is something amusing you, Nikolai?” I said, catching the faintest smirk.
“No,” he replied curtly. But the smirk lingered.
I stepped back, exhaled slowly to burn off the adrenaline.
“Any more brilliant ideas? Or are we done?”
I offered Damien my hand. He clasped it, hauled himself up.
