Page 12 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)

The Secrets Men Keep

The muffled sound of bass from the club grew louder as Makros descended to the underground floor alone. The elevator came to a halt, and a soft chime echoed through the cabin.

He was immediately flanked by the two men who would serve as his bodyguards for the night. Not that they were necessary, he was more than capable of defending himself.

The club was packed wall to wall, the air heavy with the scent of backwoods cigars. It pleased Makros seeing the guests enjoy themselves. Loved how snappy the waiters were moving.

“Makros Crete.” A heavy set gray haired man greeted him.

“ Signor Valentino ,” Makros said cheerfully, embracing the man.

“I heard you took out the Crawfords and even married their daughter,” Valentino said.

“ Si , si . You heard right.”

“Ah, no judgments. But Makros, be careful around that one.”

“ Si . I've got to go now. But we will catch up soon.”

Snaking through the crowd, he and his bodyguards exited the club through the backdoor.

“Nothing must go wrong tonight!” He heard his cousin saying to the night shift boys and continued.

Stefanos could handle them. He, however, had other plans.

The guards halted by one of the auxiliary buildings and Makros went in alone, shutting the door firmly behind him. The building, known as the communications room, had several broadcasting equipment. He picked up a sat phone and punched in a set of numbers.

“Talk to me, Dragon,” he said as soon as the call went through.

“The truck is loaded, boss. We're waiting for Intel before Gerald makes his move.”

“ Ascoltami Dragon, listen to me. Under no circumstance should you make a move until agent Niccolo is here.”

“ Si boss.”

“Succeed at all cost,” he said, hanging up.

There was a knock.

His hand went to his waist, feeling his gun, and he swiftly turned around.

“Who?”

“Stefanos.”

He opened the door, stepping aside for his cousin to enter.

“What’s the status?”

“Everything's set.” Stefanos leaned against a desk. “Nicolai has arrived with the ambassador. They're currently partying.” He swung the whiskey bottle in his hand.

Makros nodded. “And the ambassador's daughter?"

“You should be there to welcome her.”

He scoffed and moved closer to him. “Give me that,” he snatched the bottle and took a big swig. “Good drink.” His head bobbed as he pushed back the bottle to his cousin’s chest.

Stefanos quickly grabbed it so it wouldn’t fall. “Are you ready?” He asked, keeping a cautious eye on him.

“ Fratello !” He sniffled and placed a hand on his shoulders. “We were born ready.”

“ Si .”

“Stop asking questions, and let's go party. When tomorrow comes, we will continue our streak as the filthiest rich bastards in the country. What'd you say?” He grinned mischievously, squeezing his shoulder.

“Let’s go, brother.”

“Let's go!”

The guards immediately fell into steps behind them, escorting them to the club.

“Did the strippers arrive yet? You know those English boys love their bunnies.”

Stefanos chuckled. “Valeria said she'd handle that.”

“And you let her?!” Makros's eyes danced with amusement.

“It was hard to argue when she pointed a pistol directly at my balls and threatened to shoot if I didn't give her a reason to hover around you.”

Makros threw his head back and laughed heartily. A picture of what the entire scene would have looked like flashed in his head, and his laughter increased. “Why does she always walk in on naked men?”

“Fetish, or too much spirit. I don't know. All I know is she's obsessed with you.”

“Me? I'm not the one whose balls are getting a pistol pointed at.”

They both shared a chuckle as the door glided, and they stepped into the crowded room. Valeria was there to welcome them with a smile on her face.

“La Rey.” She opened her arms, ready for a hug.

Makros rolled his eyes, but indulged her. She threw a brief look at Stefanos when they pulled away.

“You,” she said quickly, moving her eyes to the object of her affection.

“You too, baby,” he returned, unwilling to wrestle with her.

She snorted, but when her eyes rested on Makros, it sparkled. “See, I told you to let me pick out an outfit for you. Do you see how much it suits you?” She dusted an invincible particle off his shoulders.

She hated that they were related by blood. No other man got her blood boiling in the best way like he did. And standing before her, dressed like a god, she was slowly melting into a puddle.

The suit jacket and pants, with his tattoo-covered bare chest did justice to his already outstanding looks. Finishing the look with a scarf tied like a durag over his head was the best decision any man had taken since Jesus's death, in her opinion.

“You look handsome," she said, wanting to hug him repeatedly.

“Valeria, can we go now?” He asked, already over her obsession.

“Come with me, mi amor ,” she turned around, walking forward first so he could watch the sway of her hips. She had picked out that gown on purpose so he could watch her walk in it. It was skimpy enough to leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“She wants you badly.” Stefanos shook his head.

“Drop it, brother,” he snarled and moved forward.

They climbed up the stairs to the spot reserved for the VIPs.

As the club's sole owner, he usually had a whole section.

He could choose whoever he wanted in it.

Tonight, he specifically asked for the ambassador's daughter.

If he could keep her close, he could keep an eye on agent Niccolo and the mission.

“Makros!” One of the English boys spotted him when he arrived at his section. “Can I come over?”

“Please do.” He beckoned with his hand, but as he turned to his cousins, he rolled his eyes. “That fool sold his father's lake house for some ski slope. Too bad we're not handing out candies tonight.”

“Because of the no drug policy? I could sneak in a line or two for special guests, and not a wind will get out," Valeria boasted.

“I trust you can, darling. But not tonight.”

“Okay,” she shrugged. “You know where to find me if you change your mind. I Have to return to the girls now. See you later.” She threw him a wink and turned around. Coming face to face with Stefanos, she frowned and pushed out her tongue.

“Stupid.”

“ Brutto ,” she sneered and walked away.

Makros chortled. “I never see you lose your calm until you're in her presence.”

“Trust me, brother, that girl could bring out the demon in God himself,” he grabbed a bottle on their table and popped it open. “Your friend isn't coming over anymore?”

“Thank God,” Makros replied.

The music suddenly switched up as the curtains opened, and a girl walked in. Behind her were two men. One unknown, and the other, the infamous agent Niccolo.

“He's here,” Stefanos said, dropping the bottle.

“You know what to do.”

He nodded and hurried away.

Makros, resting on the railings, waited for their arrival.

He watched as the usher who walked up to them pointed at him.

The girl's eyes shot up, looking directly at him.

She bit her lip slowly and nodded satisfactorily.

Makros hid a smirk at her pronounced reaction.

But as his gaze fell on the man closest to her, his excitement faltered.

The man didn't smile. He sent him a piercing gaze as they began their ascent up the stairs. Makros's gaze didn't waver either. If the agent thought he could be intimidated by mere looks, he had another thing coming for him.

As the barrier opened, the usher gave way for them to pass through.

The girl hurried over to him first. “You must be Makros Crete,” she stretched out her hand. “I'm Vanessa.”

“Vanessa,” he whispered, taking her hands. Bowing his head, he placed a gentle kiss on her hands. As he straightened, he watched her face turn bright red. “Your name is as pretty as your face.”

“You Italian men and your sweet tongue.” She giggled.

“It's sweeter when it's true, right? I'll tell you this one thing: I don't lie.”

“Then I guess I'm in good hands?”

“Literally.” He looked down on their hands, joined together, and slowly dragged his eyes to her lip before resting on her eyes.

She felt like she had been hypnotized. As she gently swayed to the side, his hands dropped from hers. The agent quickly projected an arm to her shoulders and steadied her.

“Thank you, Sam.” She turned her head to him.

“Sam?” Makros chorused with a raised brow.

“Yes, Makros. This is Sam, my bodyguard. The other is Dan, but he'll be watching from afar,” she explained.

“Makros.” He stretched out his hand.

The eyes of the other man swept through him as he accepted the handshake. Their hands held firmly. Underneath the calm exterior were two men from opposite sides of the divide, battling for domination. Makros pulled out first, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Would you like a drink, darling?” He offered Vanessa as the agent stepped aside, giving them space.

“I'll take anything you offer me.” She reached his chest with her fingers and raised her head to look into his eyes. “Nice tattoos,” she drawled.

He was about to respond when, from the corner of his eyes, a movement caught his attention. It didn't look like he was the only one that had noticed, as virtually everyone's eyes turned to the entrance. His heart skipped a beat as his eyes caught the blazing glare of Leila.