Page 39 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)

Act of Seduction

Leila was well-versed in Crete's game now. She had taken time to observe Makros, learning all about how he worked. His strength, his violence, his arrogance, everything that made him invincible in other people's eyes.

But he had a weakness.

Her.

Makros had taken an early lead. He had sent Dragon to the spy. But if she could reach the spy before him, she stood a chance.

Her heart raced as she closed the drawer, putting everything back in its proper position before slipping out of the door.

There was one major problem.

She didn't have a phone.

Makros still didn't trust her with one. Which meant she would have to find another way to contact the spy. She knew just where to start.

Leila moved through the house with practiced silence, slipping into the hallways with the quiet fluidity of someone who had spent way too much time studying where the cameras spun and where the guards were standing watch. She had only just made the turn when a voice pierced the quiet.

"Out late, aren't you?"

She stopped in her tracks.

Nicolai.

He leaned against the wall near the stairs, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. His intense eyes surveyed her, not as Makros did—possessive and hungry but with something more analytical.

Leila's mouth curved into a smile, tilting her head as she moved towards him. "I can't sleep."

Nicolai leaned in to take a long drag on his cigarette, releasing smoke so the air in the hallway appeared that much tighter. "That so? Or are you too busy with Makros?"

She shrugged. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

His sneer increased. "I would, as it happens. You fascinate me, Leila. Most women in your situation crack. But you." He swept her with his gaze. "You're holding on."

She let out a small, breathy laugh. "Flattery, Nicolai? I didn't think you were capable."

"Observation." He snapped his cigarette into an ashtray beside him, moving closer. "You're not just holding on. You're learning to play the game."

For an instant, she wondered if he had the slightest inkling. If he'd seen her through her act. Gosh, she hated the way his eyes screamed we are watching you.

She feigned ignorance, focusing on him. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all." He moved in closer, his voice falling. "But I'd be careful if I were you. Those who learn too much disappear."

Leila looked at him, smiled. "I'll remember that."

She passed by him, her pulse steady despite the hang of his words. She hadn't the time to consider Nicolai's paranoia.

She had work to do.

In next to no time, she was exactly where she needed to be.

Stefanos sat in his usual spot, his own quarters near the east wing, at his desk with a cigarette between his thumb and index finger. A glass of half-full whiskey rested next to him. He barely looked up when she entered.

"Is there something you want?" he said, exhaling cigarette smoke.

Leila stopped in the doorway, inserting doubt into her tone. "I. I just needed to speak to someone."

Stefanos finally peered up, frowning. "To me?"

She bit her lip with her teeth, advancing. "I'm sorry."

He shook ash from his tray. "Sorry for what?"

"Don't act stupid, please," she whispered. "Listen, you were the only one who was ever kind to me. When I first arrived here, you weren't like them."

He sneered. "That didn't stop you from offering me up for your own gain."

Leila looked down. "I'm sorry."

A beat of silence. He looked at her, testing the truth of her words.

She stepped close to him, taking his hand.

"I shouldn't have reported you to the Don, Stefanos.

But what else was I supposed to do? If only you'd waited patiently, played at the game patiently with me instead of trying to take it from me by strength, perhaps I might have considered granting you your desire. "

His jaw locked, his knuckles turning white. But he didn't step back.

Leila edged toward him, slow, deliberate. Far enough that he could feel the breeze from her breath on his skin. "I realize now you're the only one who ever treated me kindly. I could use a friend. I'm so, so lonely."

It was a fabrication.

But the truth he wanted to hear.

Stefanos let out a slow breath. "What is it, Leila?"

She stroked his arm with gentle fingers, to his shoulder. "I have to know something."

He arched his brow.

She went on. "Earlier, Makros was holding up a file, I bet it contained transcripts of the conversations between the spy and the enemy. How did he know so much? That takes a lot of hacking, computer work. Is Makros a hacker or something?"

Stefanos grinned. "You're right, he did hack his way into the information. But God, no, Makros doesn't know shit about computers."

Leila waited silently.

He leaned back in his chair. "There's a comm room. That's where the excitement takes place. Surveillance, tracing, gathering information. It's where Makros keeps track of everything. But Dragon is in charge of the hacking."

Leila fought to seem interested on the surface only. "Where is it?"

Stefanos blew ash off his cigarette. "West wing. But you won't get in without a key card."

Her pulse pounded. "And who has a key card?"

He smiled. "Me. My uncle. And of course, Makros himself."

Leila exhaled quietly, tilting her head. "Can I see it?"

Stefanos chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice try. I wouldn't even give it up at gunpoint."

She did not respond immediately. Instead, she let her fingers trace small circles on his wrist, her caress as light as a feather.

Stefanos' eyes deepened. "What are you doing?"

Leila nipped at his jaw with her lips. "What do you think?"

He breathed out, his grip on his glass tightening.

Then she kissed him.

Slowly at first, testing.

His fingers stroked around to her waist, pulling her close. She deepened the kiss, catching him by surprise, sending him into a moment of thoughtlessness. The kiss was hungry, she didn't give him a second to think, she ran her hands down to his crotch, but she was stylishly frisking him.

And when he shifted his gaze, hand stretching to the ash tray to keep the cigarette, her fingers moved fast.

The card slipped out of his pocket before he even returned his gaze, not realizing she had taken it from him.

Leila broke away, her lips still covered with the flavor of whiskey and smoke.

"Thanks for listening," she whispered, hitting his chest.

She retreated, stepping away from him, while his body was still warm from her touch.

"Leila—"

"I'm sorry Stefanos," Leila said, not turning to face him. "Baby steps."

He picked up his glass of whiskey and downed the remaining content, watching her through the rim of the glass as she sashayed away from him.

The west wing hung silently, dark and menacing.

Leila moved swiftly, keeping to the shadows. She could hear the hushed sound of muffled voices, but when she looked around, there was no one there. It was coming from the opposite direction.

She found the door Stefanos had mentioned. The complex was subservient to Crete's nightclub.

And just as Stefanos had conveyed, the door was protected by a key card reader. There was a security camera in the corner. Leila took care not to stand in front of the camera.

She breathed deeply.

If this was a disaster, No. No second-guessing allowed. She swiped the card. There was a soft beep and the light turned from red to green.

The lock clicked open. She stepped inside—And hesitated.

Screens blanketed the walls, of places and of people. There were at least fifty different phones. On one screen, there were just numbers: bank statements. On another, she saw maps that featured red dots traveling. She saw reports papers stacked in neat piles.

It was all of it.

All of Makros' secrets. All of his enemies. All of his friends.

She was amidst the heart of the Crete's power.

For the first time, She had something tangible. Something she could actually use to destroy the Cretes.