Page 52 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)

Revelation.

The water was cold, icy actually.

Leila felt it with her toes before getting into the enormous bathtub.

Her body easily fit inside and quickly adjusted to the cold water, her bruises aching on contact.

She welcomed the chill, and the numbing pain that crept into her muscles and she let herself drift.

The room was still, with only the occasional splash of water when she shifted.

She stroked her hand down her arm, fingers tracing over the latest addition of marks Makros had put on her. The sting still lingered, very much real and fresh. She exhaled slowly, tipping her head against the rim of the bathtub, looking up at the beautiful chandelier overhead.

"What am I becoming?" She thought.

She had known pain. She had known helplessness. She had known desire. But never like this. Never had she felt so much need to wrap her pussy over someone's cock, tightening herself around it like a noose on a hardened criminal's neck.

She staggered out of the tub dripping water on the floor wherever she stepped. She dried off with a towel, and then wrapped herself in a silk robe before she moved toward the vanity. She wiped at the clouded mirror with her palm, revealing her reflection.

Her mouth dropped open slightly as she gazed at the view of herself.

The delicate pink welts on her wrists where the cuffs had bitten into, and her entire torso where the flogger had whipped repeatedly; the disappearing marks along her collarbone and jaw; the purple soreness of her breasts.

She should have felt so ashamed of herself.

But instead a shiver of exhilaration coursed through her.

"Why the fuck am I getting so turned on?" She wondered for the umpteenth time.

A soft click broke her thoughts.

Leila turned at the same moment the door creaked open. "Who is it?"

A woman stepped inside, her breath hitching loudly as she took in the room with a sweep of her eyes.

Her dark brown pupils widened at the view of all the BDSM equipment in front of her at one time, the cuffs, chains, floggers, gags, Saint Andrew's cross all arranged like artifacts in an exhibition hall museum.

"Dios mío," she breathed under her breath.

Leila arched her brow. "Are you lost?"

The woman's gaze snapped to hers, and she composed herself. "No, Mrs. Leila. Senor Makros instructed me to attend to your needs." She paused before going on, "I am Estela."

Leila nodded, her gaze following Estela as she stepped forward and set down a small medical bag. So this was the one Makros had sent?

She vividly remembered him saying he'd send a maid, but Estela certainly looked nothing like a maid.

And then there was something too perfect about her.

The crisp white uniform, perfectly fitted, clung to her figure in a way that felt more ornamental than practical.

Was she actually just a nurse? Or was she something more?

A bit of unease curled in Leila's stomach as her thoughts betrayed her, bringing back the memory of a different woman in Makros's service, the maid on her knees, bobbing head between his thighs.

She had no reason to think Estela was the same as the maid, but that didn't stop the idea from easily invading her mind. If Makros took pleasure in breaking women into submission, who was to say that this one wasn't already trained to give him pleasure?

Estela was quiet for a while. Then, unable to help herself, she looked at Leila's perfectly naked body and whispered, "Does it hurt?"

Leila smiled weakly. "Isn't that the point?"

Estela's lips parted slightly searching for words, then closed when she found none. She opened her bag, pulling out some ointments and a bundle of cotton wool. "Sit," she told Leila, her voice recovering its confidence.

Leila obeyed, sinking onto the chaise lounge with a quiet sigh. Estela knelt before her. She dunked a ball of cotton wool into one of the ointment containers.

Leila tensed as Estela brought the cotton wool to her skin.

"Relax," Estela said softly. "It's just Aloe Vera gel meant to cool the sting."

Estela's hands were steady, her touch firm but gentle, smoothing the gel on Leila's bruises in slow, careful strokes.

For a while, neither of them said anything and Estela simply continued mechanically with what she was doing. Then, as if she could not hold her curiosity in check any longer, Estela said, "I don't mean to pry, but..."

Leila breathed out. "But you will anyway."

Estela smiled, unapologetic. "Do you... enjoy it?"

Leila stared at her. "Enjoy what?"

"This." Estela waved her hand loosely across the room, then back at Leila's skin. "Being dominated."

Leila leaned back a little, considering. "It's complicated."

"You lying bitch," said the annoying voice in her head. "You enjoyed it!"

Estela grumbled a hum to herself, dabbing the bruises on Leila's breast. "I'm sure it is. But what's the limit? When does it stop being painfully pleasurable or is it pleasurably painful and just become... you know, pain?"

Leila smiled dryly. "Maybe when you stop wanting it."

Estela tilted her head. "And do you still want it?"

Leila reflected on the question for a few seconds. Then, in a low tone, she replied, "I don't know."

Estela did not look happy with that answer but all she could do at the moment was take it like that without inquiring further. She went back to work, this time more focused, but then she hesitated before speaking up again.

"What about before this? Before him?"

Leila tensed up.

"What are you referring to?"

"Well, um... your family."

Leila's expression hardened immediately.

"That's enough questions, Estela."

Estela lowered her head immediately. "Lo siento, Mrs. Leila"

The rest of the treatment was in silence. Estella stood up when she finished, and she packed up her bag.

"Would you like me to bring you some of your clothes, Mrs. Leila?"

"Yes," Leila murmured. "And some of my personal items too. No, that's too vague. Bring me my toiletries, hair bonnet, and—" She hesitated for a moment before adding, "the small wooden box on my dresser."

Estela gave a small nod and turned to leave. At the door, she paused and flicked her gaze back to Leila. "Would you like something to eat?"

"No," Leila replied, then took a deep breath. "Just bring me what I requested."

Estela contemplated in her mind whether to insist but ultimately nodded and slipped out.

Immediately she left, Leila's mind wandered to the envelope Vincenzo's contact had given to her. It was in the wooden box she'd asked Estela to bring. Would Estela think to check what was inside? Had she made a mistake by asking her to retrieve it?

A sliver of doubt crept in, but she quickly reassured herself. "Now, why would she do something like that? She doesn't seem all that bold."

She exhaled, pulling her robe tighter around herself.

When Estela returned, she carried a neatly folded set of clothes and a small tray with Leila's requested items. She set them down on the bed and turned to leave, but this time, Leila stopped her.

"Stay with me."

Estela blinked. "Mrs.?"

"Sit," Leila said simply. "Keep me company."

Estela hesitated. "I don't think—"

"Isn't keeping me company part of taking care of me?"

Estela studied her for a moment, then, reluctantly, she lowered herself onto the chair near the bed.

Leila leaned back against the pillows. "Tell me about Makros."

Estela stiffened. "What would you like to know?"

"Anything. What's he like outside of this?" She gestured vaguely around the room.

Estela hesitated. "I don't see much of him. But..." she trailed off.

"But what? What aren't you telling me Estela?"

Estela bit her lip before saying, "He's different with you."

Leila frowned. "What do you mean? Different how?"

Estela's eyes flickered toward the closed door as if could see through it and watch out for any eavesdropper. Then she whispered, "He's never kept anyone this long. His family's death made him incapable of keeping anyone. Honestly, I'm just as perplexed as the others—"

Leila's breath hitched. Makros had a family? The information shook her, her head spinning to reconcile what she'd just discovered.

A family.

Dead.

The man who'd held her captive, who was in control over her every move, had once had a family, had lost them to death just like her. Was there some sort of connection?

Her mind flashed back to what Stefanos had said. "He did it because of revenge."

Leila's surprise would have been apparent because Estela's face flushed, shame flashing before her eyes.

"You didn't know," she growled. "I—I thought you did.

" She brushed her hair worriedly, backing off as if she had already talked too much.

"Please, don't mention it to him. I only said it because I thought—"

Leila's gaze narrowed, the curiosity in her chest becoming something sharp. "Then tell me more." She straightened, tilting her head ever so slightly. "Or I'll tell him exactly what you let slip."

Estela's face turned white as she battled fear against uncertainty in her mind. She spoke in a barely audible voice, "His family was killed. But I don't know who did it. No one does. It happened in—"

Estela stopped herself from speaking too much again, but Leila doubled down on her interrogation. "It happened in? Stop sounding like a broken record, please. I promise not to tell Makros anything if you speak up, but I'll implicate you if you don't."

"It happened in Greece," Estela finally admitted. "That's all I know, lo juro !"

The news wasn't exactly helpful to Leila, but a strange jolt of sympathy crept into her chest. If only for a moment. Then she swallowed it.

Leila huffed and groaned, "I guess that's why he's like that."

Estela didn't argue, rather she found a way to cleverly change the topic. "Do you love him, Mrs. Leila?"

Leila stiffened, leaving the question hanging there, between them. Her lips parted, but no answer could come out.

A minute went by before Estela stood up saying, "I should go."