Page 3 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)
A Deal With The Devil
L EILA’S POV
“Do it then.”
His eyes flickered with something unreadable. Amusement? Surprise? I couldn’t tell. He leaned back slightly, probably thrown off by my boldness or stupidity, depending on how you looked at it.
Hell, even I had shocked myself.
Of course, I didn’t want to die. Not yet. Not until I made him suffer the way he had made me suffer.
“Do it,” I repeated, my voice steadier now, emboldened by my own recklessness. “Because it doesn't matter what you do. I won’t marry you. And if you let me live, I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself.”
I meant it. Every damn word.
He studied me like I was some puzzle he hadn’t expected to find in the box. Then, he chuckled—a deep, dark sound that crawled under my skin.
“How do you say it again? Yeah, you're trying to call off my bluff, right? You think I won't do it.”
“Nope, I don’t care what you choose to do,” I shot back. “It's not like I have a will to live. Not after what you’ve done. You're a twisted bastard playing a sick game.”
Leila, shut up. Just shut the hell up.
I wished I could, but my mouth had a mind of its own. My father always warned me about my defiance, calling it a Fallon curse. And yet, here I was, embodying it in full force.
Makros shook his head. “As beautiful and stubborn as a goddamn mule.”
“You said goat last time,” I corrected, despite myself.
His eyes darkened, and before I could regret opening my mouth, the gun was back in my face.
Shit.
My pulse pounded loudly in my ears. This time, he looked serious. His fingers slid to the trigger.
“As you wish, then,” he said with a shrug.
“Wait!” The word shot out before I could stop it.
A slow smirk crept onto his face, victory glinting in his eyes.
“If I can’t teach you with kindness, then I’ll teach you through fear,” he murmured. “You have ten seconds to say two words: I do. Anything else, and you're dead.”
He began to count.
Panic gripped me, squeezing the breath from my lungs.
Ten.
No. I wouldn’t let him win.
Eight.
But I couldn’t die yet.
Six.
I wasn’t ready.
Five.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“I do,” I breathed, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
His smile widened as he lowered the gun. “Good girl.”
Then, he did something that made my blood run cold. He tossed the gun to the bed.
I rushed and grabbed it, pulling the trigger. Shit it's—Empty. The bastard had been playing me the entire time.
My entire body trembled with rage. “You–”
He laughed. A rich, taunting sound. “You Americans really are as dumb as they say. Or is it just a Fallon thing? Your father was supposed to be this big-shot, yet he went down like a house of cards. I expected a fight. What a damn disappointment.”
How dare he talk about my family like we were nothing? Dumb? The Crawfords and dumb should never be used in the same sentence.
Now, he made me wonder how he had taken out my father so easily? Nothing about this made sense. My father had been powerful, untouchable.
And yet, he was gone. No. My lovely Daddy, the one who had my back. You, I swear I'll make you pay. You and your entire family.
“You're a little too quiet now,” Makros drawled, watching me closely. “Plotting my death already?” He
grinned. “Go ahead. Just know that you're a storm, Leila. And I’m the darkness that follows.”
My head snapped up, and my voice was pure venom. “It’s not a plan. I will kill you.”
He let out a low whistle. “Hope I get to taste you before that happens.”
A wink. A damn wink.
How was he so casual about this? He had slaughtered my family. Destroyed my life. And yet, he stood there, making jokes like it was nothing.
I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms.
The rage boiled in my throat, but I pushed it down. Now wasn’t the time.
I would make him pay. But first, I had to survive.
“You haven't even told me your name,” I muttered. “Shouldn’t that come before a marriage proposal?”
He smirked. “Makros Crete.”
Oh, shit.
I had heard of him. The Italian Don who turned blood into an empire. The man whose name made even the most ruthless criminals hesitate.
Now, it was all making sense.
I scoffed. “Well, Makros, don’t call me ‘sunshine.’ I will never be your sunshine. My name is Leila Crawford. You do well to remember that last name.”
He stepped closer, offering his hand. I glared at it before looking away.
“I know who you are, Leila Crawford,” he murmured, dropping his hand. “I must say, you're not what I expected.”
I glanced at him, wary. “And what exactly did you expect?”
He shrugged. “Something... gothic. Leather pants, thick mascara, a cigarette in one hand, and a gun in the other.”
I almost threw up.
Me? Leather pants? Thick mascara? Lady Jenner would have killed me herself. I liked girly things. I liked pink so much, and I made ginger, and my gun was pink too. I liked flowery perfumes and listened to Ed Sheeran.
I shuddered. “God, no.”
He chuckled. “Glad to know I was wrong.”
Then, his expression shifted. “Now, go and freshen up.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“We leave for Italy tonight.”
I laughed in disbelief. “You think I’m going to follow you like some obedient wife?”
“You are my wife now,” he said simply. “And wives obey their husbands.”
I gritted my teeth. “That’s the most sexist bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
He smirked. “Would it help if I said please?”
“No.”
“Too bad. You’re still coming.”
I wanted to punch him in the face. I wanted to put a bullet between his eyes. But most of all? I wanted answers.
There was a knock at the door.
Makros sighed dramatically. “Ah, looks like our wedding officiant is here.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”