Page 19 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)

A Crete With a Difference

LEILA'S POV

The sound of metal clinking filled my hearing when I woke up. I felt disoriented, my body aching in places I didn’t remember injuring my wrists, the left one in particular, felt sore. When I tried to move, something restrained me.

“What the fuck?” I muttered.

My fingers scrambled at my side, brushing over a cold iron.

A handcuff.

My gaze snapped up to where the cuffs were hooked to the headboard of a massive bed. Makros's bed.

He cuffed me.

That mother fucker.

I sucked in a breath, trying to steady the fire rising in my chest. The last thing I remembered was walking away–choosing to walk away–and then... nothing. That son of a bitch must have had his men grab me the second I left his room.

"Unbelievable." My voice came out hoarse, like I'd been screaming in my sleep. Or fighting. I yanked at the chain, testing its give. It rattled against the post but held firm.

I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes for a moment.

Focus.

Anger was easy. It burned through my veins, feeding me like fuel. But panic? That was what Makros wanted. To break me. To make me feel powerless.

I wasn't powerless, and I’d never let him win.

The door creaked open, and I braced myself, expecting Makros to come in. Instead, it was someone else's voice that I heard.

"Well, well, well."

I turned my head to see the tall figure who was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, amusement written all over his stupidly handsome face.

Stefanos Crete.

The infamous cousin. The lady's man. The womanizer. The man who could talk his way out of a gunfight and straight into a woman's bed.

"What have you done to piss my cousin off this time?" Stefanos asked, casually stepping inside the room like it belonged to him.

I scoffed, adjusting slightly in my constricted position. The chain rattled again. "When is he never pissed?"

Stefanos grinned, strolling closer. He pulled up a chair and sat backward on it, arms resting against the backrest. "Fair point." His sharp gaze swept over me, lingering on the chain. "This is new. Even for Makros."

I lifted my chin. "Should I be flattered?"

Stefanos chuckled. "Depends. If he went through the trouble of handcuffing you, you either tried to kill him, or you broke his heart."

I snorted. "The bastard is heartless."

Stefanos mouth stretched into a toothed grin. "Well, that's debatable."

An uncomfortable silence passed between us but he broke it with a question. "You really hate him, don't you?"

I met his gaze, unflinching. "With every fiber of my being."

Stefanos hummed, resting his chin on his forearm. "Yet, he keeps you close."

"Like I'm one of his possessions," I snapped. "Not a person."

His grin turned into something unreadable. "Maybe. Or perhaps you matter more than he cares to admit."

I rolled my eyes. "Spare me the psychoanalysis. I hate Makros. I hate all of you Cretes, down to the yet unborn generation."

Stefanos tsked. "That's a shame."

A corner of my mouth twitched. "Why? Do you think I'd make an exception for you?"

His expression turned wicked. "Well, now that you talked about it..."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "It's true what they say. You really can't help yourself, can you?"

"Ah, please, please, it's a disease."

This time, I actually laughed from my stomach. Not because I found him cute, but because of how ridiculous this conversation was turning out to be.

Here I was, chained to a bed by his psychopathic cousin, and Stefanos was flirting with me. But then again, he was Stefanos Crete.

I'd heard all about him even in America. He made women swoon with only a few words. He was someone who never took anything too seriously. It was almost infuriating how easy he was to talk to.

I cocked my head to the side, watching him. Under different circumstances... Nope. That was a dangerous thought. I shouldn't.

Stefanos leaned closer. "You know, if you ever get tired of fighting with my cousin, there are better ways you could handle him."

I let out an exaggerated gasp. "Are you proposing strategies to me?"

"I'm just saying," he paused. "If you want to really piss him off, I am right here."

An idea suddenly flashed before me.

Makros wanted to control me. To own me. He expected my resistance but never truly considered that I could fight him in ways he would never anticipate.

Like this.

Leaning into the game.

I let my gaze flicker to Stefanos's lips long enough for him to notice. "Tempting."

His smirk grew darker. "It is, right?"

Footsteps. Heavy, furious footsteps drew closer.

Before I could react, the door barged open with a force that rattled the walls.

Makros.

His sharp gaze landed on Stefanos, sitting very close to me. His nostrils flared, and his jaw tightened.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

"Stefanos," Makros said, voice dangerously even. "Get. Out."

Stefanos barely flinched, tilting his head up to Makros with a lazy smile. "Hey, Mak. Just catching up with my cousin in-law."

Makros didn't say another word. He strode forward, grabbed Stefanos by the ear like a misbehaving child, and yanked him to his feet.

"Ow, ow–Jesus, Makros!" Stefanos winced, trying to pry his brother's grip off. "No ear pulling."

Makros didn't release him. "You have ten seconds to leave before I break your fingers."

Stefanos held up his hands in surrender, but the grin never left his face. "Alright, alright. No need to be dramatic."

He cast me one last glance, winking, as he backed toward the door. "I'll be seeing you, Leila."

I smirked. "Looking forward to it."

Makros slammed the door behind him and turned to face me.

Uh oh.

He was furious. And I, despite the cuffs, despite everything, smiled.

"Something wrong?" I asked sweetly.

Makros took slow, measured steps toward me, stopping at the edge of the bed. He reached down, fingers wrapping around my chin, forcing my face up to meet his glare.

His grip wasn't rough, but it wasn't gentle either.

"I don't know whether to punish you," he murmured, "Or to kill you."

I arched my brow. "Why not do both?"

His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, gaze flickering with something unreadable.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he warned.

I held his gaze, refusing to cower. "So are you."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. Then, without another word, he let go, stepped back, and walked out, locking the door behind him.

I exhaled, my heart pounding in my chest.

What would he do next?