Page 50 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)

The Seed of Doubt.

Leila's body no longer felt like it belonged to her. It was a trembling, aching vessel which was squeezed out, over-sensitive, and raw with too much pleasure and too much pain.

Her wrists and ankles were still bound, secured up against those stiff leather cuffs, and the ropes around her breasts still bit into her puffy flesh. With every shallow breath she took, the knots sank in deeper.

Her skin burned where the flogger had repeatedly kissed her. Stinging welts were spread across her thighs, her belly, and the sensitive curve of her breasts.

The reward of pleasure and punishment conflated until she was hardly able to distinguish between them.

Her pussy ached and pulsed. Every beat threw her into shivers, her body jerking as if it still expected more. The vibrator had worn her down, and even now it still thrummed within her, the feeling refusing to fade.

It was not just her body that was exhausted.

Her mind had been exhausted also.

Makros had gotten the confession from her, unpicked her with his cruel sex punishments until she blurted out the truth against her will.

She had lost.

She had offered him exactly what he wanted. And now, lying there—exposed, naked, helpless—reality hit home with all the weight of a slow, suffocating tide.

Would he be satisfied with that answer? Or would he press her for more?

Was this over, or was there still more punishment to come?

A shiver ran down her spine as Makros leaned over the edge of the bed, tilting her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Who is he?" His voice was even and controlled.

Her lips opened, she hesitated, and he could see the conflict in her eyes. She was debating. Debating what to say. Debating what not to say.

"I—" She swallowed. "He's a broker. Someone who was supposed to help me."

Makros pressed his thumb to her bottom lip, stroking the softness there. "Help you... how?"

"How else? I wanted to get out of this stupid country." The words came quickly, rushed, as if she wanted to get past them. "I thought we would be able to arrange for that."

Makros felt hurt. He disliked that she felt there was more for her somewhere else than from him. He wrapped his fingers around her neck, squeezing just enough to make her breath catch. "And where did you meet him?"

She hesitated, but just for an instant.

And he squeezed her neck a little harder.

"How did I meet him?" she gasped. "It was arranged."

Makros scoffed, dragging his fingers over the damp skin of her throat, then down to her bare shoulder. "Arranged in what way? How did you guys communicate? With a phone? Through a messenger? Tell me."

"I—" She hesitated once more.

His fingers trailed lower. Over her ribs, down her stomach. "No lies, Leila. Just the truth."

She shivered, and he wasn't sure if it was from his touch or from fear or both.

"I—I don't use a phone." Her voice trembled. "It was all a part of Stefanos' plan."

Makros blinked in surprise wondering if he had misheard her.

Leila saw the shift in his demeanour, the brief flicker of doubt in his facial expression before it hardened into something sharper.

He didn't believe her.

She needed to fix that.

"Stefanos wanted to help me get out of the country," she lied smoothly. "To a nice private island where he could be with me."

Makros exhaled calmly, letting his fingers graze over her skin.

"Stefanos," he echoed, as if he didn't recognise who the name belonged to. "No. That's impossible."

Leila nodded, reinforcing the lie further. "Impossible? He—he's had his eye on me for a long time, hasn't he?"

Makros's expression didn't change much, but there was a sliver of doubt and she felt the slight shift in his touch.

Leila pressed forward.

"He tried to force himself on me once," she whispered. "The first time you left me alone to go to Naples. Happened in your father's study. But I fought back. I smashed his head with a paperweight, rendering him unconscious. Your father walked in on us. If you doubt me, ask him yourself."

Makros raked his hair backwards with his fingers.

"You're lying," he said in a clipped tone.

Leila let her breath hitch, let the emotion waver in her voice. "Am I?" she whispered.

His eyes darkened.

She pushed further.

"It was after that, your father sent us both on that assignment, and things changed. He... he started getting more infatuated."

Makros's fingers dug into her jaw. "I know Stefanos would do almost anything to get in bed with a woman. But to touch what's mine? He's not that desperate."

Leila swallowed, blinking up at him through damp lashes. "Not that desperate? He has kissed me in his bedroom twice and tried to take more from me."

Makros jerked her forward. "What did you say?"

She gasped. "He promised me a way out just to get me to sleep with him."

Makros's grip tightened painfully around her jaw. "And you expect me to believe that?"

Leila's heart skipped a beat. She wondered if she had pushed too far, or had said something to make him doubt her.

A single tear rolled down her cheek as she attempted to perfect the act. "You don't have to believe it, Makros," she murmured. "You don't have to believe it for it to be true."

His rage was building. She could feel it, taste it in the way his fingers trembled against her skin.

Good.

She just needed to push him a little further.

"He told me about the communication room," she whispered, letting the words linger before adding, "Only three of you have access using key cards."

That was it. The last hole she had to poke to plant the seed of doubt into his mind.

Makros's grip on her jaw remained tight. Leila held his gaze, the weight of her words settling between them like an unsheathed sword. She could see it now, the way his mind worked to sort through the possibilities. She could see his trust in Stefanos wavering ever so slightly.

He spoke in a low, dangerous tone. "The communication room."

Leila blinked up at him. "What about it?"

He traced his thumb over her lower lip, relishing in its softness as he weighed the option of bruising it. "Have you ever been there?"

She let her expression shift, just slightly, to look confused, then shook her head. "No," she breathed. "Stefanos never took me there."

Makros's eyes darkened, his thumb still on her lip. "Why would Stefanos mention the comms room to you?"

She replied warily, "He told me that it was the safest way of hiding his involvement in planning my escape. Making arrangements through the comms room with the secure lines. Said he was suspicious of you tracking phones after the spy incident."

Makros exhaled slowly, watching her reaction. "Hmm, did he say anything else?"

"No, I swear. And he never took me with him. This was all happening while you weren't around."

"What the fuck, Stefanos?"

She breathed shakily. "Is this how the Cretes act? Betrayal at the slightest opportunity? Is there no one loyal in your family? If it's not a spy in your midst, it's your cousin attempting to steal what is yours, or your father concealing things from you."

Makros's jaw clenched, his fingers curling as if fighting to stop himself from wrapping his hands around her throat again.

"Mind your words," he threatened.

Leila laughed ignoring the hurt that accompanied it. "Why? Because they might be true?" She tilted her head, her gaze searching his. "You imagine you're the boss, Makros, that you're the one who controls everything. But even you don't see the people around you slipping behind your back."

His hand shot out, fingers curling around her throat so tightly she thought he was going to kill her.

She glared at him challengingly. "You know I'm right," she strained. "If I'm lying, why don't you go verify it yourself?"

For an instant, Makros did not speak, a murderous storm raging behind his eyes. And then, hesitantly, he released her, rising to his feet from the bed.

"I don't require you to tell me how to handle my family," he said coldly.

Leila panted as the sudden release of his hold left her breathless. He moved with the same calculated precision from earlier as he uncuffed the cuffs on her wrists and ankles. The imprinted red marks made him tingle with desire.

He untied the ropes around her breasts next, releasing them with smooth, controlled movements. Blood rushed back into the sensitive flesh, making her wince as a dull ache replaced the constriction.

"Stay here," Makros ordered. "You will not leave this room under any circumstances."

Leila bit her cheek, bowing her head. She did not want to test his patience now.

He took a step toward the door, opening it just wide enough to yell for Nicolai.

He appeared instantly.

"Guard the door," Makros commanded. "No one comes in or out without my say so."

Nicolai's eyes flickered momentarily to Leila before he nodded. "Si comprende."

Makros returned his focus to her. "Someone will come and look after you. They'll take up whatever request you have. You can ask for whatever you want. Clean up." His tone was almost professional. "You will wait for my return."

And with that, he vanished.

Makros strode down the corridors in purposeful steps, nodding his head to passing staff, his face eerily composed.

A maid hesitated as he came, clutching a folded towel to her breast. She opened her lips, no doubt deciding whether she should stop him.

"Sir, I—"

Makros slowed, his eyes locking into hers. "Not now," he said flatly. "Later."

The maid swallowed and shrugged her shoulders hastily. "Yes, sir."

He walked on in silence, relaxing his hands for a little while before clenching them into fists.

He arrived in his study in one piece and retrieved his key card from the desk drawer. Exiting the study he bumped into Stefanos.

"Hey Makros, can I have a word?"

"Not now Stefanos, I'm in a rush," Makros replied, dashing past him.

Stefanos stood there frozen in silence as Makros hurried off and shrugged, fighting the desire to chase him.

The trip down to the comm room was uneventful with any further interruptions. He stood at the security door and placed his key card. The red light indicator flashes green and the door opens, admitting him.

Inside, the room was dark except for the steady glow of multiple screens lining the far wall. The hum and beep of machines instantly filled the air.

Makros made his way to the terminal, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he accessed the security logs.

Stefanos's key card had been used to enter the room.

Twice.

His jaw clenched as the timestamps confirmed what Leila had told him. On both occasions, Stefanos had visited the communications room when he'd been away.

A smoldering rage churned in his chest.

Whatever had been going on was happening without his consultation. Stefanos had kept it from him.

It maddened him and he wanted to lash back at Stefanos, punish or kill him, but he could not afford to be reckless. Not yet. Not without knowing exactly what Stefanos had done.

Makros controlled his breathing, forcing himself to think. Stefanos' betrayal had to be crystal clear to him. He wouldn't waste his cousin on accusations. Couldn't just kill him because he was screwing with his wife.

He could summon Stefanos right now, demand the truth, and break him down until he confessed how deep his betrayal ran. A violent interrogation. Painful. Direct.

Or he could watch him longer. Play the ignorant fool. Let Stefanos believe he was still being discreet while tightening the noose around his neck.

Makros breathed hard. The second option would require him to wait. And waiting never came naturally to him.

But it was the more prudent decision.

He would pretend not to know anything. Let Stefanos continue to carry out his plan, let him slip up. Let him dig his own grave

when the time was right...He would bury him in it.