Page 34 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)

The Dragon Returns

MARKOS'S POV

The atmosphere in the Crete estate was different that evening, filled with the scent of triumph.

News of my victory had reached ahead of me.

The Russians were happy, thinking Aleksei was dead, and the rumors of how I chased Vincenzo away single-handedly and made my own name in Naples only solidified my ferocity and rise to power.

I was really happy to be home, and I was pleased with the respect that now preceded my name.

Within the opulence of the Crete's living room, I sat with Dragon and Nicolai. The golden chandeliers illuminated the room with a warm glow, casting elongated shadows on the marble floor. The soft crackle of the fireplace was the only sound before Dragon finally broke the silence.

"You were right," he said, arms folded across his chest. "The Russians bought it. No doubts. No second-guessing. Aleksei's ghost won't be haunting you."

I smirked, leaning back into the leather couch. "That's because ghosts don't exist."

Nicolai, standing against the wall with a glass of whiskey he had poured for himself, gave a low laugh. "Neither do second chances, and yet you somehow managed to grab one." He drank his liquor slowly. "Your father is happy. Says you recovered your blunders well."

My smirk lost some of its light. Blunders. My father would never let me live them down, no matter how well I played the game.

Dragon flipped his lighter, the small flame flickering in his black eyes before he lit a cigar. He blew out a heavy plume of smoke. "And Naples?" he asked. "How long until someone tries to challenge the claim you've made to Naples?"

I smiled. "Let them try." My voice was casual, but with a touch of menace. "I didn't just plant a flag, I rooted myself in their soil. They know it, and so does Vincenzo. He ran. That tells you everything."

Nicolai set down his drink with a soft clink. "So now what? You tracking him down?"

More than once during the return trip the impulse had run through my mind of hunting down Vincenzo. Giving up the pursuit had been a tactical move, but part of me would've loved to end his hanging threat once and for all.

Before I could answer, a maid approached with a silver tray, her steps light and deliberate.

She was new—or at least I assumed she was. But I wasn't quite certain. The servants came and went like waves on the beach, some staying long enough to be remembered, others before I could even learn their name.

"Would you care for a drink, sir?" she said, holding the tray out to me first.

Brandy.

For an instant, I almost took it. My fingers tensed, extending but I halted.

Brandy wasn't my drink.

Red wine. That was what I drank. Everybody knew it. Dragon knew it certainly, and so did Nicolai.

I retracted my hand, shaking my head. "No. That's not the type of drink for me."

Dragon blew out another puff of smoke, grinning. "Half-expected you would say yes."

I gave him a side-eye glance. "Maybe someday I'll have brandy."

Dragon let out a low laugh, reaching for his glass from the tray without hesitation. Nicolai did the same, grumbling his thanks as he lifted it to his lips.

Before I could say more the heavy clomping of feet resounded within the room. The moment I heard them, I knew we were finished talking.

My father entered with a deliberate, slow pace, his very presence commanding the room without effort. He barely glanced at the others before his sharp eyes fixed on me.

"Makros."

That alone was enough.

I stood up immediately, following him as he led me out of the room.

A few minutes later, we arrived at the private lounge, where he sat down in his favorite chair, taking up a bottle of whiskey. The old man looked up, the hardness in his eyes softening just a bit.

"You did well." My father leaned back, taking his time to savor the moment. "Aleksei was a loose end. Now he's dead, and the Russians are pleased. You also came through in Naples. That's how we conduct business."

I sat across from him, legs extended, hands idle on the chair arms.

"And while I was attending to business," I mused, "I heard you were playing games with my wife."

My father cocked an eyebrow, the closest thing to surprise he ever showed. "I was testing her."

I let out a humorless chuckle, drumming a finger against the armrest. "And what did you learn?"

"That she's worth more than you're giving her credit for." He swirled his drink. "You think she's a pawn, but she's playing the board as well as any of us."

I exhaled through my nose, irritation curling at the edges of my thoughts. "You should have waited for me. Or at least consulted me before taking something like this action."

He leaned in close, gaze fixed on me. "I don't need your approval to screen any member of my household."

Household. Not family. That distinction was never lost on me.

His fingers tapped on his glass before he continued. "The test was also to see if she'd flip on us. I offered her Babros, and gave her a way out. Even gave her the chance to kill Stefanos." He hesitated and left the words lingering before delivering the final words. "She didn't bite."

I stared at him for a moment, my expression blank. Then I responded. "And what if she had flunked your little test? If she had taken the bait?"

His eyes locked with mine. Hard. Unpitying. "Then I would have taken care of it."

The room went silent except for the slight clinking of the melting ice in his glass.

"Perhaps your test wasn't convincing enough," I said at last. "She's not stupid. She saw through it. That doesn't mean she doesn't want our heads."

"Oh, I know." His smile was slow. "But if she keeps postponing her revenge, it'll eventually go away. That's what I'm saying."

I considered his words for a minute.

Then he lay back. "I reckon you'll want to see her now. I guess you haven’t fucked her very well, yet."

I didn't say anything. Instead I got up and went to find her.

My footsteps echoed off the marble floor as I walked in the corridor searching for her. Then, I saw her. She turned at the sound of my footsteps, her pace slowing before she finally stopped.

There was no friendly smile, no flash of welcome at my return—only a blank stare. I knew she would not be pleased to see me, but I had hoped for better.

Something more welcoming.

I stepped closer, slow and easy, my gaze locked onto hers. And then, in a moment, I had her pinned against the wall, one hand on the side of her head, my body so close to hers.

Her breath hitched, but she didn't budge. She never did.

"Did you miss me?" I breathed against her skin, my voice burning.

She didn't answer, but I saw it, the glint of her eyes, the hesitation. A chink in the ice.

I smiled. "You thought I was going to die in Naples."

Leila chuckled quietly, but it never reached her eyes. "I thought you were walking into a trap. I wished you'd die, yes."

I grinned. "And now?"

She set her chin a little up, teasing me. "You're still standing just like you said you would. But that doesn't change anything."

My laugh was low, almost amused. "You still think it'll be you who takes me down?"

Her lips parted a little, and when she replied, she sounded determined. "Yes. And till then, make sure no harm comes to your hair."

I regarded her for a moment, then slowly exhaled, leaning back enough just to give her space.

"There's a party tonight," I informed her. "Everybody will be there. To celebrate with me. To celebrate us."

She inclined her head a little, in amazement. "You're no different than everybody else. Your hunger for attention is insatiable."

I gave her a sour smile. "I hunger for power. I don't need the attention one bit."

Leila took a slow breath. "And what about the spy?"

She just had to bring that up.

"That's a small fry," I dismissed. "Hardly worth my attention, sweetheart."

She gave me a look, a look that I couldn't read. Then, with no further ado, she turned on her heel and walked away.

I stood there letting her go, enjoying the swivel of her hips, a slow smile creasing my lips.

The night was filled with an unbelievable amount of energy as the party started.

The estate's club was filled with the scent of cigars, whiskey, and ambitions. Our guests were mostly talians, business associates, old friends of the Cretes, and those seeking a favor. And I was right in the middle, enjoying the moment, sharing my victory with my wife at my side.

Leila performed her role well—smiling on cue, standing by my side when needed. But something wasn't right.

I felt the distance between us, even when she was inches from my body.

My gaze followed her stare. She'd been looking at a woman, dark-haired, beautiful, dressed in a dress that hugged every inch of her body like it had been painted on her.

I recognised her instantly.

Caterina.

She wasn't meant to be here.

She was meant to be in Greece.

But here she was, walking toward me, lips curving into that knowing smile.

"Makros," she whispered, her voice nostalgic. "Did you really think I'd be gone forever?"

Before I could react, she closed the space between us, pressing a kiss to my lips, firmly claiming me and totally ignoring the crowd.

Leila stiffened beside me.

Caterina took a step back, smiling. "I don't care if you have a wife," she breathed, her voice low and meant to be overheard. "You, of all men, shouldn't be tied to one woman."

I barely had time to react before Leila moved.

But she didn't lash out at Caterina.

She turned to me instead, her eyes dark with something menacing.

"You're really a whore of a man," she spat, her tone laced with just enough venom to bite.

Suddenly, She grabbed a bottle of champagne, and dumped it on my head. The room fell into stunned silence. I stood there, dripping, the shock fraying my nerves.

Leila met my gaze, unflinching.

Well played, gynaíka mou. Playing the jealous wife just so you could shame me.

The game had changed. Once more. And this time, I did not know who was in the lead.