Page 95 of Reluctant Heir

“Where is that grandson of mine?”

“That’s why I’m here,” I say, stepping back once he releases me.

“Please sit. Do you want some tea or coffee? Something stronger?”

He picks up an honest-to-God bell on the coffee table and rings it, and the same maid who showed me in earlier bustles back in. He waits for my answer as I sink back onto the couch.

“Either is fine,” I say. I’m not sure I could drink anything right now if I tried.

“Bring coffee and tea,” he says to the maid, all without taking his eyes off me.

I hear her footsteps retreat. He takes a chair kitty-corner to where I’m sitting and then relaxes, elbows on the armrests, ankle crossed over one knee. A man who is used to getting what he wants. I need to learn that kind of confidence, but I assume it probably comes from being filthy rich and knowing you are feared.

You are filthy rich now, idiot.

“What can I do for you?” His eyes seem like they are boring into me, opening my brain up, forcing me to spill my secrets.

Geo filled me in on Connor’s plans on the plane ride, wanting me to have all the information. I see this goes a lot deeper than Connor drawing a gun on them at a flower shop. He was planning a coup. With their children. The bosses won’t take kindly to that. He could already be dead.

The thought makes my throat start to close, and I swallow convulsively on instinct. I really need that drink now.

“I need your help,” I say.

His face doesn’t change. He’s not surprised. Or he’s really great at hiding his emotions. Probably the latter.

“Connor is in trouble.”

“And that’s my problem because?” His eyebrows rise this time, driving his point home.

“He’s your family,” I say, my own brow furrowing. “I know there is bad blood between you two, but aren’t you all about family, blood, loyalty?”

“He’s not my blood,” Viktor says, clasping his hands together across his chest. “His father stole my daughter and took her away from me.”

“You called him your grandson moments ago,” I point out.

“In name only. I don’t have a vested interest in him beyond business. He comes from bad stock.”

“What do you mean, Bertrand stole your daughter?”

“My Sylvia, she was betrothed to another, but Bertrand promised her the world. A world she already held in her hands but didn’t realize it. She left with him, moving to California, and I finally have her back. I wish I could wash my hands of the whole Soltorre family.”

“Is that why you didn’t let Lilliana return with us?”

Viktor’s eyes darken, and his mouth twitches slightly. “She’s my blood. She’s where she belongs. Bertrand’s little empire he built is a joke, a blight on crime families everywhere. Those men he worked with are foolish, greedy, shortsighted. And they are new. We are established, dating back generations. Lilliana deserves the Leoni name. She deserves her true family.”

“Connor didn’t choose this,” I say.

Viktor leans forward. “What do you need my help with?”

“Connor has been taken by those same foolish, greedy, shortsighted men.”

“That is a problem,” Viktor says, nodding. He motions with his hand for me to go on.

The maid comes in, wheeling a silver cart with a tray. A teapot and coffeepot sit on top; two cups and a basin of cream and one of sugar sit beside them. It’s all so dignified and formal.

I lick my lips. We are silent as she pours a coffee for Viktor, fixing it without him telling her what to put in it, and she hands it to him and then looks at me.

“Oh, a coffee, please. Cream, no sugar.”

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