Page 69 of Reluctant Heir

Viktor nods. “None of us are. Do you consider yourself good, Connor?”

“No. Good is relative.” I know I’m giving shitty answers, but it’s a matter of self-preservation at this point.

“Then, if we are along that vein of thought, your father probably thought he was a good man. After all, he took care of his family in the way a man ought to, am I correct?”

Viktor’s eyes haven’t left me once, and I’m aware of how focused he is on the way I react to what he says. I fight the urge to drum my fingers against my leg. My one nervous tell.

“Yes, I believe he thought he did what was right for us.”

“He was selfish, greedy, manipulative—all things that make for a good businessman. Tell me, what kind of man are you?”

This is a trap—I can feel it in my bones—but I have no recourse but to tell the truth.

“I’m a man who wants his sister to come back home, where she belongs.”

“And you think you are equipped to take care of her? To protect her?”

Viktor reaches into his jacket pocket, and I tense, unsure of what he is pulling out. I have nothing beyond what I can see on the desk. But it would be unwise of me to attack him in his own home. That is one thing Bertrand always told me—make sure your battles are on an even playing field. Lot of good that did him in the end.

Viktor produces a cigar, extending it toward me, but I decline. He sticks it in his mouth and then lights it with a lighter from the same pocket. All while waiting for my answer.

“She is safe with me,” I say through gritted teeth.

“You see, I have a hard time believing that, Connor Soltorre. Just that name tastes bad in my mouth. You come from a man who thieved. A man who stole my own daughter away. Made her fall in love, promised her the world, and carried her off, out from under my own protection.”

“And she’s still alive, isn’t she?” I say, bold.

“Yes, and she’s back where she belongs along with my granddaughter.”

I hate to play this card, but I’m going to now that it’s necessary. “She’s rightfully mine,” I tell him, knowing that I can appeal to his chauvinistic side. “She’s a woman in the Soltorre line and under me.”

“Ah, yes. And how did that come to be?” Viktor leans forward slightly, blowing smoke toward me as he stares me down. “Am I to trust a man who is not loyal to his own blood?”

“You don’t believe I am? I’m trying to have my own blood returned to her rightful place.”

“Have you asked Lilliana what she wants?” Viktor raises one eyebrow, and I stop myself from scoffing.

“Have you?”

Viktor barks out a laugh, but it’s not a jovial one. “It doesn’t matter what she wants,” he says, chest still rumbling with mirth.

“No, I suppose not.” My hands clench the armrests as we fall into silence.

Viktor puffs on his cigar, the acrid smell of it filling the small room, burning my nose. I don’t believe that women don’t have a say in things, but have I not done the same? Have I not kept Wryn locked in my house, told her what she was going to do? I won’t let myself feel bad about it. I am loyal to those who deserve it.

I wonder why Viktor doesn’t think I’m loyal. What has he heard? What information does he have to go on? Whatever it is, he’s keeping it close, not revealing his cards, and I can respect that. But it also unnerves me.

“I will stay here for as long as it takes,” I tell him.

Viktor slides his dark eyes toward me. He looks young for his age. Only the lines around his eyes give him away, showing that he’s seen and done a lot of shit.

“You’re wasting your time,” he says nonchalantly, and I straighten my back, prepared to wage verbal war. “You can’t have her back. Return home and don’t come back here.”

“I’m not leaving,” I say stubbornly and watch the fire ignite inside his pupils as his eyes narrow at me.

“You don’t want a fight with me, boy.”

“Why do you hate me so much?” I ask.

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