Page 7 of Deadly Legacy (The House of Matvei #3)

D usk crept through Grigorii’s study, lamp light pooling across the antique desk as Nikon studied his brother’s face.

The eldest Matvei rarely showed concern, but now his brow furrowed as he examined the surveillance photos.

“Wallace Hoyt is a respected name in finance, no?” Grigorii said, his finger tracing the edge of a surveillance photo showing Reuben’s father entering Dmitrii’s club. “Now he deals with Miroslav?”

Reuben stood with perfect posture beside Grigorii’s desk, his green eyes focused and analytical as he studied the financial reports.

“His company has been failing for months. Three major investments collapsed, institutional clients pulling out...” His voice remained steady, but Nikon caught the slight flex of his jaw.

“These financial records show he’s desperate. ”

He speaks of his father as if analyzing a stranger, Nikon thought. A shield against the pain of abandonment.

The leather chair creaked as Alexei shifted, tapping through the banking records on his tablet. “The money came through classic laundering channels. Smaller amounts merged into larger ones, impossible to trace back to source without inside knowledge.”

“Knowledge we happen to have,” Nikon added, moving to stand beside Reuben, close enough that the sleeve of his suit brushed against Reuben’s arm.

“And now we know why Dmitrii wants Quantize Guard.” Reuben pulled up technical schematics on the monitor. “Their software could create a surveillance network that sees everything—including our operations.”

“That would give Dmitrii eyes outside every casino, every dock, every warehouse we own.” Grigorii quickly caught on as he re-examined the surveillance photos. “We’d never move product without him knowing.”

The study felt smaller than usual, the wood-paneled walls closing in as the implications sank deeper. The faint scent of Grigorii’s cigar from earlier still lingered in the room. Nikon stood with his back to the window, hyperaware of the weight of his shoulder holster.

“Not just our operations,” Reuben added, loosening his tie slightly. “If integrated with city-wide systems, it could track our people through facial recognition anywhere there’s a camera.”

He thinks like one of us now, Nikon realized, a mixture of pride and unease sliding through him.

Alexei leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed. “The money trail is clean but unmistakable. Three separate transfers through progressively smaller banks until they landed in Wallace Hoyt’s corporate accounts.”

“Dmitrii gets quite ambitious these days,” Nikon said, his voice low. “Using Reuben’s father against us.”

Grigorii’s eyes lifted to meet his brother’s eyes, then settled on Reuben’s. “Dmitrii uses your father to strike at us all,” he said, his voice hardening. “This isn’t just business now.”

“No.” A muscle flickered along Nikon’s temple. “It’s family.”

Reuben’s shoulders straightened at the word, that almost imperceptible shift that happened whenever he was included as Matvei— not just Nikon’s partner, but family.

Nikon circled the antique desk, his fingers grazing the polished wood. “We need to understand exactly what Wallace wants from this deal.”

“Money, obviously.” Alexei flicked his wrist dismissively. “His company bleeds cash. And these financial reports show at least three ventures underwater.”

“I know my father,” Reuben said, shaking his head. “Money matters, but it’s never just about that. He craves status, influence.”

Grigorii tapped his fingertips against the desk. “So Dmitrii provides a financial lifeline, and Wallace brings legitimacy and connections, yes?”

“Exactly,” Reuben nodded. “My father’s name still carries weight in certain circles.”

Nikon watched Reuben, noting the subtle tension around his eyes. “And together they become more dangerous than either one of them alone.”

“What’s your read, Alexei?” Grigorii directed his question to Alexei, who was still scrolling through financial data.

Alexei glanced up, his eyes sharp despite his relaxed posture. “Wallace is drowning. These investments here—” he turned the tablet so they could see, “—show a pattern of increasingly desperate gambles.”

Nikon glanced at Reuben with a slight smile. “Unlike your father, you at least know when to walk away from a losing position.”

Reuben’s eyebrows rose in mock offense. “Are you suggesting I ever face losing positions?”

“Only in certain private games we play at home,” Nikon replied, his voice dropping suggestively.

Alexei groaned. “Please spare us the domestic bliss details.”

Grigorii cleared his throat loudly as he pushed himself up from his chair and moved to the antique cabinet in the corner.

“If you two are finished, we have a snake problem to discuss.” The clink of crystal against crystal punctuated the silence that followed his words as he extracted a decanter and four glasses.

“So we have a snake and a desperate man after technology that would expose us,” Grigorii said, pouring vodka. “What’s our play?”

Nikon accepted the glass his brother offered, feeling the cool surface of it against his fingertips and the weight of tradition it carried. “We have two advantages. One, we know their plan. Two, they don’t know we know.”

“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. Nikon selected 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.

“Several things,” Nikon replied, his foot finding Reuben’s under the table. “The steak is just one of them.”