Page 26 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)

The Game We Play

MAKROS' POV

The day passed in a blur of conferences and sifting through reports. I hadn't left the building once. Not that I needed to.

Everything that required my notice was in front of me—contracts to be signed, financial reports to approve, feedback from my men. Paperwork had its role to play in this world, after blood and bullets.

I leaned back in my chair, my fingers drumming against the armrest. Some men existed for the chaos of the streets, doing business with a gun. Others preferred strategy, working from behind the scenes.

I did both.

At past noon, the house was buzzing. Associates had dropped by and said their goodbyes.

Most of the meetings were held by Stefanos since I had no desire to attend.

No need to endure one more cycle of pleasantries while everything of value already lay on the page. Moreover, men enjoyed speaking too much where I was concerned—testing the limits, determining where they were at.

A total waste of my time.

Dragon had shown up in the afternoon, with his usual flat brief. "The Russian agreement is in place. The Romanians are asking for a meeting. And the Naples supplier is getting nervous."

"Then remind him why he shouldn't," I responded without looking up.

His only response was a nod. There were no further questions.

Now, as darkness began to replace the shine, I closed the last folder on my desk and exhaled slowly. The day had been productive.

And yet, my mind was elsewhere the entire time.

Leila.

I hadn't seen her all day. Not even when the maid came to inform me that she hadn't eaten since morning.

I pushed back from my chair and rose, rolling my shoulders. It was time to get back with her.

Leila walked in on me already waiting for her in her bedroom. She folded her arms, looking stubborn as ever. She seemed ready for a fight. A part of me wanted to comply.

Instead I released a steady breath. "You haven't eaten today."

She didn't blink. "Wasn't hungry."

Liar.

The pale gauntness of her cheekbones, the almost imperceptible shift of her weight—her body had betrayed her. She was starving, and yet she still held onto this fantasy of control.

"Starving yourself won't make me let you go," I told her. My voice was gentle, authoritative.

A harsh laugh burst from her lips. "Who said anything about letting me go? That's not what this is about."

I regarded her. She was done fighting me, now she was punishing herself. The thought irritated me more than it should.

I had broken men twice her size, men who had more to lose. But Leila... she wasn't breaking. At least, not like I'd imagined.

I sighed and rubbed my jaw. "I don't have time for this."

She was waiting for me to be on my way. I could tell by the angle of her chin, readying herself for another victory.

I gestured toward the door.

The moment Nicolai stepped inside, I saw it—the flicker of recognition in her eyes. Her defenses went up immediately, her body tensing.

Good.

"This is Nicolai," I explained quietly, watching her carefully. "My late best friend's brother."

She swallowed hard.

"He will be your new bodyguard," I continued.

Leila's lips parted, but she did not speak. Her intense stare moved from Nicolai to me.

Good. Let her think. Let her ponder what this meant.

She had been allowed to run wild for far too long. But now, every move she made, every breath she was prepared to take, would be monitored. Even when I wasn't around.

Nicolai didn't budge. He simply stood there in the rigid patience of a man accustomed to waiting. He was a predator. He was shorter than me, thinner, but no less imposing in his presence. He was a shadow who didn't require the cover of darkness.

Leila released a slow breath. "A bodyguard," she said finally, as if tasting the word on her tongue.

I nodded. "You have a talent for causing trouble. This is a precaution."

Her eyes darkened. "A precaution. Or a leash?"

A slow smile creased my lips. "Why not both?"

She bristled, but I could see the wheels turning in her mind. She had just been KO’d by this unexpected move.

Leila's shoulders came up as she breathed in. When she finally spoke, she was calm. "What did your last best friend do?"

Nicolai and I both stiffened.

I replied shortly. "It's none of your business."

Leila didn't blink, but I saw it—the crinkling around her eyes, the way her throat constricted in a slow swallow like she suspected I'd done something.

Gosh, she was good at reading the room.

I approached, closing the gap between us until I could observe the rise and fall of her breathing. "Eat," I breathed. "Or Nicolai will feed you."

Leila did not stir. Did not say a word.

I let the silence draw out, waiting to see if she would yield. But she did not.

"Fine," I said into the air.

And then I turned to Nicolai. "Feed her."

Leila's breathing hitched, but she had no chance to react before Nicolai marched over.

He was fast. Quick-thinking.

One moment, he was standing at the door, the next, he had her wrists pinned, forcing her into the chair next to the table. The plate of the unopened meal between them.

Leila thrashed, baring her teeth, her body taut under his grip. But Nicolai didn't budge, his face seeming almost serene in its tranquility.

"Let me go!" she growled.

Nicolai didn't heed, tightening his grip with smooth efficiency.

I stood there, arms folded. "Open your mouth."

Leila glared up at him, her lips set in a thin, unyielding line.

Nicolai sighed, shaking his head. "Stubborn." And then, without any hesitation whatsoever, he forced open her jaw.

A sharp gasp escaped her throat as he shoved the toast in. Not enough to strangle, but enough to force her to chew or spit it out.

Her eyes flashed to me, furious with anger. I held my own stare on hers, waiting.

For a moment, I thought she'd spew it right back in his face. But then, achingly slowly, it disappeared behind her teeth.

She chewed. Swallowed.

A small, inconsequential thing. And it was as near to victory as I ever tasted.

Nicolai released her, stepping away from her as she coughed once, stiffening into a rigid form.

Leila massaged her lips with the heel of her hand, panting for air. "You son of a—"

"Stop it," I broke in, my voice silky smooth but adamant. "You lost this hand, dolcezza . Learn to lose gracefully."

She jumped to her feet, fire brewing in her eyes, but I'd already turned to go.

I'd gotten what I wanted.

She would eat.

Eventually.