Page 48 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)

The Control Room.

The moment they stepped into the restaurant's security room, one of the three guards, noticeably the fattest of the bunch, immediately recognized Makros and Stefanos.

Surprised, he muttered their identities to his colleagues before turning to address them.

"What brings the Cretes all the way back here?" he asked with forced ease. "Away from the fine food and wine? I certainly hope there's no trouble."

Makros stepped closer, towering nearly three feet above the man. "Pete, surely you don't think I'd bring my kind of troubles to you. I just need to check your security footage."

Pete nodded without hesitation. "Of course, Signor Makros. Right this way."

Makros shot Leila and Stefanos a sharp look, a silent command for them to stay put, before following Pete into the control room.

It was a modest space, with three chairs and five monitors displaying different sections of the restaurant. Each monitor was divided into four smaller screens.

"Which one covers the bathroom?" Makros asked.

"That would be cameras six and seven, on monitor five. What exactly are you looking for, Signor?"

"Play the footage from two days ago." Makros settled into a chair.

Pete entered the date of two days back, typed in a password, and Makros took over from there.

But instead of finding footage, the screen flashed black, with stark white letters across it that read: NO DATA FOUND.

Makros stared, his expression unreadable. He was not someone who was easily surprised, yet here was a blatant puzzle staring him in the face threatening to unsettle his composure.

Pete squinted at the screen, as if he had somehow misread it the first time. "That's... not supposed to happen."

"Oh?" Makros murmured, standing up. "Then you need better security."

Pete's face flushed with embarrassment and worry. "That would imply I'm not doing my job properly."

"You're clearly not," Makros replied, gesturing with his hand towards the black screen.

"Signor Makros, what exactly were you looking for?" Pete asked, staring at the screen with confusion still etched on his face.

Makros ignored him, his sharp eyes scanning the other monitors that seemed to breathe life in moving pictures unlike monitor five. He didn't need to ask which one covered the dining area, he could see it right there on monitors three and four.

"Pull up the restaurant footage from two days ago," Makros ordered.

Pete repeated the process holding his breath. He breathed with relief when the video popped up.

After a few fast-forwards, Makros hit the pause button, pausing the video. There, on the screen, were Leila and Stefanos entering the restaurant.

He hit the same button to play and watched the voiceless footage, eyes locked on every detail. His blood boiled with anger at the way Leila and Stefanos were enjoying their time.

Then, after a while Leila stood up with her handbag. He rewound the video and paused. Right before she stood up, a man had walked in heading for the bathroom halls. Makros leaned in slightly, as if he could push through the screen and follow Leila who disappeared into the hallway after the man.

The bathroom footage had been deleted, yet this one remained untouched. Why?

"What are you up to, Leila?" he muttered under his breath.

A few minutes later, the same man emerged from the hallway and approached Stefano's table.

Makros observed their exchange, but the interaction lacked context without audio. The man stood to leave as Leila returned to the table. Makros' gaze sharpened, catching the briefest eye contact they exchanged. He pulled out his phone hurriedly and snapped a picture of the man's face.

Turning to Pete, he said, "Alright, I've got part of what I need. I won't be asking your manager to fire you just yet."

"Thank you, Signor! Thank you!" Pete bowed in appreciation.

Makros left without another word, rejoining Stefanos and Leila. The walk back to the car was silent.

Nicolai, waiting by the vehicle, unlocked the door as they approached. Leila slid in first, with Makros beside her. Stefanos took the front seat.

Once the car was in motion, Leila finally broke the silence. "So, did you find what you were looking for?" Makros nodded and handed her his phone.

Leila's breath hitched. "Him," she said, her voice betraying no hint of unease. "That's the man who was talking to Stefanos when I came out of the bathroom."

Stefanos sighed in exasperation. "We're still on about that lunatic? I already told you, he was just some drunk looking for a free drink."

Makros ignored him, his gaze still fixed on Leila. His next words were slow, deliberate. "I'm more interested in who this man is to you. And what you two were talking about in the hallway."

Leila's brow furrowed. "What? Nothing of that sort happened. What proof do you have?"

Makros seized her wrist. "Proof," he said coldly, "is the fact that there was no footage of you going to the bathroom."

She met his gaze challengingly. "That's absurd. If there's missing footage, that could happen for any number of reasons. It doesn't mean I'm guilty of shit."

She was right.

Slowly, he released her, then took his phone to call Dragon. After the second ring, the line connected.

"Dragon, what's the status?"

Dragon's voice came through the speaker. "Still got nothing on our mysterious E.B. woman, boss."

"Fine," Makros replied. "I sent you a picture. Run a check on him and get back to me."

"Got it, boss."

Makros had barely shut his eyes when the car pulled to a stop. He straightened immediately, exhaustion pushed aside. He hadn't truly slept since his trip to Moscow.

As they stepped out, he issued his next command. "Neither of you are to leave the house until I figure out what's going on."

Makros strode ahead, leaving them behind, heading straight for his bedroom. He needed sleep. But first, he had a list to make.

He grabbed a pen and notepad from his nightstand, jotting down each item with careful precision.

A slow smirk curled his lips as he finished. He called Nicolai.

Moments later, Nicolai entered, eyeing the notepad. "Sir, are these..." He hesitated. "Are these sex toys for Leila?"

Makros shot him a glare. "I didn't hire you to ask questions. Just get me those items before seven."

Nicolai scratched his head, trying to reconcile this request with the man he had known since childhood.

Around 5 p.m., Leila was taking a walk in the driveway, when a truck eased past her to a stop. She paused watching as Nicolai and two others got out and began unloading several boxes. She had no idea what was inside.

A few hours later, fresh from a shower, she heard a knock at her door. Still wrapped in a pink towel, she peered through the peephole and saw Nicolai. Unlocking the door, she braced herself for whatever he had to say.

"Makros wants me to escort you to his new bedroom," Nicolai said, his gaze dipping, lingering a second too long on the loose towel clinging to her chest.

"I'll be out in a minute," she replied, her grip tightening around the fabric.

A new room? Her mind spun. Why does he need a new room?

Five minutes later, she followed Nicolai down the hallway, keeping a few steps behind him. They moved deeper into the house, past the main living area, down a dimly lit corridor few ever walked.

At a set of double doors, Nicolai stopped. Before he could reach for the handle, a voice stopped him.

"I'll take it from here."

Makros emerged from the shadows, his presence as commanding as ever. Nicolai gave a brief nod and turned away.

Makros pushed the door open, revealing a space Leila had never seen before. The room was large, the dark wooden floors gleaming under the soft overhead lights. The walls, painted in a deep smoky gray, made the space feel both intimate and imposing.

At the center of the room stood a heavy, dark framed wooden bed with thick, carved posts, each fitted with discreet yet sturdy metal loops. Black silk sheets covered the mattress, a stark contrast against the deep red comforter folded at the foot of the bed.

But it wasn't the bed that caught Leila's attention, it was everything else.

Along the walls, carefully arranged, was an array of equipment she didn't dare imagine Makros using. Black leather cuffs, some padded, some lined with metal studs, hung neatly beside coils of silk rope and metal chains. A shelf held an assortment of blindfolds, gags, and collars.

One section of the room featured a sleek, padded bench with adjustable restraints, positioned near a cabinet filled with instruments whose purposes Leila could only guess at. A Saint Andrew's cross stood against the far wall, its polished wood and steel restraints gleaming under the low lights.

On a side table, an elegant black box sat open, revealing polished silver cuffs, a leather crop, and a small set of delicate, gold-plated clamps. Everything was arranged with precise care.

Leila swallowed.

Makros smirked as he noticed her unease. "You look surprised."

Leila's voice came out lower than she intended. "I didn't know this was here."

"Oh," he replied, cupping her jaw. "But it is now. And you'll be spending a lot of time in this room."

She didn't respond. Her gaze just drifted back to the bed, to the restraints embedded into the frame, to the way everything in this space seemed designed for control. It was her first time seeing a real life sex dungeon.