Dark Inheritance (The Sinclair Brothers #1)

Chapter One

Hudson

S inclair.

My last name is synonymous with power, exclusivity, and money.

Everyone knows that. The name means billions. Respect. Quality. And with it, I’ve anyone I want, everything I want.

Except maybe this…

If it’s true, that is.

I stare down at the letter long after my father’s lawyer leaves.

A small thrill, like smoke, twists through me.

Fuck. The Sinclair jewels, things of myth and legend. They might be true.

If I’m to believe the letter and my father’s lawyer.

It’s the one-year anniversary of his death, and he was a hard man to love. Respect, yes. Love… no. But it isn’t about love, no matter what people say. Respect, integrity, work, power, those are the things that matter.

So this letter, the visit, and everything with it are all completely unexpected.

I run my thumb over the envelope.

The paper is thick, handmade, top of the game in its craftsmanship. That was my old man all over. Every single detail to him mattered, and it seems, still does.

Even long after his death.

Hudson Sinclair. My name’s written on the front in strong penmanship. A dark brown-black ink. Fountain pen. Old with a gold nib from the shading and line thickness differences.

Pity my father hadn’t cared about people as much as he did about things and money and the Sinclair empire.

Then again, would my brothers and I be here if he hadn’t? Maybe. Maybe not. We’d be somewhere in the top percentile, I know that. We were all born with the need for power and money and success.

But this…

It brings everything into a different playing field. Not that I have much time for play.

I sit back in the leather chair in my office. It’s late, after nine in the evening, but the office of my own empire still ticks. I work hard and I expect my staff to do the same.

For once, my mind isn’t on work.

Without another thought, I send a group text to my brothers.

That little thrill inside grows, fans its own flames.

Making money comes easy. Hard work beats like the blood in my veins. But this, oh fuck yeah, this is my heritage, my legacy, an unexpected inheritance, and the one thing money can’t buy.

And the more I think about it, the more I want.

The phone pings with responses and for once my siblings are within a five-block radius so it shouldn’t be long. I’d put it down to kismet or some such bullshit if I actually believed.

In the meantime, I need to make some calls…

Ten minutes later, my brother, Ryder, pushes open my office door and sticks his dark head into my office, all without bothering to knock.

“Hey, man,” he says, sauntering in, “what’s the big deal? I got a date. Two actually. Couldn’t decide which lucky lady gets me.”

“Now there’s a shocker.” I tap the envelope on my antique desk. “Only two?”

“It’s Monday. I’ve got a long week. You should see the blonde, legs right up to here.” He places a hand somewhere around his head. “And the redhead, she’s—”

“This better be good.” Magnus, one of my other brothers, comes in after a sharp, hard rap, followed by Kingston, who already looks bored out of his brain. He’s checked his watch about five times since he arrived a second ago.

I know the feeling. I’m busy, too.

We all are.

We might be heirs to a multibillion dollar real estate empire known across the planet, but we’ve made our own fortunes, too. Made our own billions. Our father believed in giving us money in our pockets, an education, and letting us make our own way.

It wasn’t like the old man let us do what we wanted. He pushed. He played hardball and drove ethics—his version—into us. Not even our mother, when they were married, could get him to go easy.

But his style made us the best of the best and I don’t think we’d be anything else than what we are. Apart from his push, the Sinclair drive is in our blood. Money and success come first. Always.

Even at the top of our games, we have our own goals in our own businesses, and are name only in the Sinclair flagship, but we push on. There’s nothing but more money, more respect, more power to have.

Except, perhaps, this.

The contents of my letter.

I motion for them all to sit. I’ve exactly half an hour before I have to get back to work. I’d been hoping to fuck the sexy socialite who’d been chasing me hard for the past few weeks. She’s gorgeous, hot, and a way to get off. But this is eating into my time, so no socialite for me. Not tonight, anyway.

And this is more important than run-of-the-mill sex.

“The Sinclair jewels,” I say. “They exist.”

“The legendary family jewels?” Ryder, the ass, starts laughing, stretching out on the black leather armchair in the area where I hold informal meetings. “They don’t.” Then he stops. “Do they?”

“Apparently.” I rise from behind my desk and pull the letter from the envelope and smooth it open.

Ryder reaches up and snatches it from me, letting out a low whistle as he scans it. “Well.”

Magnus stalks over from where he stands in his dark gray three-piece suit and takes the letter. Then he tosses it on the hand cut rust-colored marble coffee table. “We don’t need the money.”

“Gimmick.” Kingston crosses the office and reads it as it lays there. Then he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“According to this, there are four jewels. We all thought they were lost, or a story. But according to Jenson, and this letter, they’re very real.”

“We don’t need a story according to father’s lawyer, and we don’t need the family jewels,” Kingston says, glancing at us all. “We’re rich enough.”

“It’s not just the jewels,” I shoot back, smoothing a hand down my waistcoat as I think about my next words. “They were important to our father, and since they’re real and this is a way to get my hands on one, I’m not letting it pass. This is a piece of our family dynasty. A part of what it means to be a Sinclair. People have coveted these jewels for decades. They’re talked about, and—”

“Jesus, Hudson.” Magnus lifts a brow. “People also think they’re residing in some secret private show room with half the art that’s been stolen or rumored to have been stolen over the years. People are people and they piss me the fuck off. I don’t need to join in on a rumor.”

“No, but this is from our father.”

“Dear old Dad,” says Ryder, swinging one leg over the other as he gets comfortable, “the man with a plan even from beyond the grave.”

“You’re a dick,” mutters Kingston. “And I’ve got better things to do here. Okay, so they’re real, and what? Did you read that thing?”

“Yes. And I listened to Jenson.”

Magnus’ mouth curves into a cynical smile. “It’s a lot. And you don’t have time for anything but work and some good old fashioned stress release.”

Pot talking smack to the kettle, right there. I cross my arms. “It’s not like I have to give up sex or cut into work.”

“Okay, let’s say this manipulation is worth it. What about us?”

“Maybe your own letter’s waiting, Ry,” I say.

“Maybe I don’t want one.”

But I know that’s a lie. Ryder loves beautiful things. Rare things. Coveted things. And he’d always talked about the Sinclair jewels as a kid and teen, before sex and money really got in the way.

“Maybe you won’t get a chance,” Kingston says, and he ignores the dark look from Ryder. “Maybe it’s just you. This sounds complicated. If they’re there, we can contest—”

“I’ll be having my lawyer look things over, but Jenson said it’s airtight.” And I have to sign a contract. I have four weeks once I do that to pull this off, to convince Jenson it is all legit, and then I can have my piece of the dynasty. Something that I can’t buy and don’t already have.

My brothers look at me and I straighten up. “I’m going to do it.”

“You are?” Ryder frowns, glancing about.

“I said so, didn’t I? It seems simple. Find a bride and convince the world I’m in love. Or Jenson, in this case. I’ll put in some calls.” I shoot a look at Magnus. “And don’t judge. I’m not an idiot. It’s not going to be real and no one will get hurt. A contract in a contract. This one very private, and with a woman who needs the money.”

Kingston shakes his head. “That’s stupid.”

“It’s trouble,” says Ryder, “and I know trouble. Very well.”

“Not if I do it right. I already put in some calls. A favor for a favor, and I already got a bite.”

“Hud, you’re never reckless, so why now?”

I cut a glare at Magnus. “I’m not. I’m streamlining. I’ve an old college buddy…they’re a respected family, old money, and the kind of old money where it’s name over cash and since the coffers are low, he said his cousin works for XO Temps, and is in need of more than her job pays.” I pause, choosing my words carefully because I didn’t exactly tell Bixby or anyone else what this was about, other than a demanding job that’s going to pay well, as it’s last minute.

I could have told him everything, and he’d only have heard money and a way to not spend his own. “Thinks she’d be willing to do it and…she’s coming here tonight. I can give her a job and have it work that way.”

“A cliché office romance?” Ryder asks. “It suits you.”

“Thanks. How kind, asshole.”

“I try.”

Magnus starts laughing and shakes his head. “Better you than me, man. You haven’t met her and you’re gonna do this?”

“Yes,” I say. “As long as she fits my criteria of honesty, and the ability to keep a secret, then it’s good. And someone rich needing money means she’s going to keep the damn secret.” I start really warming to the idea. “She’s not going to want more, and she’ll know how to move in my world. And if she’s already working, she’s got integrity. As long as she has skill, I can hire her and that sets the stage.”

“You know what happens on stages?” Ryder pipes up, setting both feet on the floor and standing. “Tragedies. Operas, farces. All of those have the kind of plots where things go very, very wrong.”

“In your world, maybe, but not in mine. I’m not planning to fuck her, just marry her, pay her and send her on her way when we succeed. That’s all.”

Ryder sighs. “Boring. That’s boring.”

“That,” I shoot back, “is streamline and success.”

“Can I sleep with her?”

“No,” I snap. “That’s a complication, Ryder. And maybe she won’t want to sleep with you.”

He starts laughing like I’ve told the biggest joke in the world. “They all want to sleep with me.”

My brother’s a pretty boy and feckless. If he wasn’t so damn smart and ruthless under all that charm, I’d be royally pissed off.

“There’s always a first time,” mutters Magnus.

“Or,” chimes in Kingston, who doesn’t seem quite so bored, “a third or a fourth.”

“Lies.” Ryder rubs his hands together. “When does she arrive?”

“About a minute after you all leave,” I say.

“You invited us to leave?” Magnus gets that bullish expression on his chiseled face I know too well. “We might as well see her.”

“I don’t want to scare her immediately,” I say. “I only wanted to give you all a heads up on what might be coming your way.”

“Did you…tell her?” Ryder smirks.

I haven’t even spoken to her, so I keep that to myself. “Out.”

Kingston checks his watch. “I need to go, anyway. Let’s leave him to fuck up his life.”

And with that, he ushers the others out of the office, leaving me alone.

Fuck it up? Hardly. And it’s four weeks.

If she doesn’t fit what I want, then I’ll find someone else. Quickly. But a rich girl with money problems? It seems perfect. And like I said, this is simple, an easy fix to get what I want.

What can possibly go wrong?

Right at that moment, a knock sounds at the door. I cross the office and pull it open, and suddenly I’m face to face with the woman who just might help me pull this off.