Page 56 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)

Riding the Edge

Makros woke early. The air was crisp, laced with the faint scent of cypress and morning dew.

From his balcony, he surveyed the vast sprawl of his estate—rolling vineyards draped in the hush of dawn, stone pathways weaving through manicured gardens, and beyond them, the silver sheen of a reflecting pool, still and undisturbed.

The world outside his gates had yet to stir.

He leaned against the wrought-iron railing, a cigar balanced between his fingers, exhaling slow ribbons of smoke as the first slivers of sunlight stretched across his land. Behind him, Leila still slept, her dark hair a stark contrast against the pale sheets.

He inhaled deeply, letting the burn of the tobacco settle in his lungs before exhaling a slow stream of smoke. His mind drifted, not to his empire, not to the future, but to the past. Moments like this were rare. Too rare.

Serenity had never belonged to him. Responsibility demanded vigilance, and vigilance left no space for idleness.

He had learned that young. Someone else had taken all the freedom, the laughter, the recklessness, the weightlessness of a life without burden.

They had once stood side by side, but only one had been expected to hold the line. Only one had carried the weight.

Makros took another drag, watching the ember glow, then fade. Some things never changed.

His phone vibrated on the nearby table. He recognized the number.

Makros answered without greeting.

"Makros, my good friend," Aleksei's voice carried a forced lightness, a little too casual. "You should have seen it. You would have loved it. The way he begged, the way his insides spilled out, like gutting a fish. It was almost beautiful. But then... revenge is overrated."

Makros took another drag, unimpressed. "Oh? So you figured it out?"

"Jeez, man, I thought you'd at least congratulate me for avenging my wife. C'mon, show some heart."

Makros exhaled smoke. "You already knew what it would feel like. You just needed to do it to prove yourself right."

A pause. Then Aleksei chuckled, low and knowing. "Yeah... yeah, I get it now. Maybe that's how you felt when you wiped out her family, huh? A flash of satisfaction, then just... emptiness."

Makros' eyes flickered to Leila's sleeping form. He neither confirmed nor denied it.

"Anyway," Aleksei continued, "I'm done. No more debts, no more ghosts. I'm disappearing, my friend. Gonna go enjoy my freedom. Before I go, anything you need?"

Makros rolled the cigar between his fingers. There was nothing Aleksei could give him.

"Enjoy your freedom," he said simply, then ended the call.

Then, movement from the bed drew his attention.

Leila stirred, her body stretching beneath the sheets, her silk nightwear shifting against her body. She squinted as the morning light crept in, a soft frown pressing between her brows.

She turned, the sheets slipping lower, baring the smooth line of her shoulder, the curve of her breast. The delicate fabric did little to hide the way her nipples peaked against the cool air.

Makros dragged his cigar to his lips, his grip tightening.

He had touched her before. Owned her in ways neither of them could forget. But last night was different.

For the first time, he had simply laid beside her.

Makros exhaled slowly, and his gaze lingered a second longer before he turned away. He crushed what remained of his cigar in the ashtray, stepping back inside.

Her lashes fluttered as he approached, adjusting to the dim light of the room. She caught sight of him—shirtless, the planes of his torso carved in shadow and morning glow. For a moment, she simply stared. Then, her brows drew together.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Makros smirked, stepping closer, his gaze dragging over her without apology. "Like what?"

"Like you want to eat me for breakfast," she murmured, voice still husky from sleep.

"Oh, I do." His gaze dragged over her, unapologetically. "Maybe we could both eat each other."

She swallowed and sat up slowly. The sheet pooled around her waist, and he noticed the way her fingers clenched the fabric, not in modesty, but restraint.

She hesitated briefly to shake off the remnant of sleep. "Last night..."

Makros raised a brow, waiting.

"You didn't touch me."

Makros smirked knowingly appreciating the fact that she noted it. "That disappoints you?"

She inhaled sharply, her cheeks warming. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

Leila hated the way he twisted her words, turning them into something dangerous. But what's worse was she hated how he was always right about her feelings.

Makros sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, his fingers moving over his phone as he typed a message.

His voice was smooth, commanding. "Get dressed. We're going somewhere."

Leila blinked. "Where?"

Makros didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze moved over her slowly, thoughtful, as if weighing something in his mind.

Then, simply, he said, "Out."

Nicolai drove, his grip steady on the wheel as they left the city behind.

The polished marble streets gave way to winding country roads, where the landscape stretched wide and unspoiled.

Leila watched in silence, the quiet hum of the engine filling the space between them.

It wasn't the suffocating silence she used to endure, it was easy, almost peaceful.

After a while, she shifted, hesitated, then finally let her head rest against Makros' shoulder.

He wasn't the type to encourage softness, and she braced herself for him to pull away or ignore the gesture altogether.

But he didn't. When she reached for his hand, her fingers brushing over his, he remained still for a beat before his fingers shifted just slightly. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

The car began to slow. Leila lifted her head as Nicolai pulled onto a long gravel path, bordered by sleek wooden fencing. The scent of fresh earth and hay drifted through the open window, carried by the breeze. As the car came to a stop, she turned to Makros, brow furrowing.

Beyond the fence, a vast stretch of open land rolled under the morning sun. Stables stood in the distance, their doors open to reveal saddles lined in perfect order, gleaming coats of horses shifting under soft light. A few riders were already there, adjusting stirrups, trotting across the field.

She blinked, then looked back at him. "You? Ride horses?"

Instead of responding right away, Makros reached into the car's center console and retrieved a pair of riding gloves. He slipped them on, flexing his fingers against the smooth leather before adjusting the fit with practiced ease.

"It's been a while," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

As they approached the stables, a stablehand hurried over, leading two horses. One was a deep chestnut with a white blaze streaking down its nose, the other a sleek black stallion, its coat gleaming under the afternoon sun.

Leila instinctively reached for the chestnut's reins, but before she could take them, a firm hand caught her wrist.

"Not that one," Makros said smoothly.

She turned to him, brows furrowed. "Why?"

Instead of answering, he handed the chestnut's reins back to the stablehand.

Makros stood beside the horse, then turned to Leila. "Up."

She hesitated. "I—"

Before she could protest, he grasped her waist and lifted her with effortless strength, settling her onto the saddle. She barely had time to adjust before he swung up behind her, his body fitting snugly against hers.

His chest pressed firm and steady against her back, his breath warm at her temple as he leaned in to secure the reins. His arm grazed her waist—fleeting, deliberate.

"Relax," he murmured near her ear, his voice low and smooth. "I've got you."

The words sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine.

With a gentle nudge of his heels, the stallion moved forward. The steady rhythm of the ride made her acutely aware of every shift of his body behind her, the way he adjusted to her movements, the slow, deliberate pull of the reins in his gloved hands.

She had expected him to take full control, but instead, he let her find her balance, offering only the occasional murmur of guidance. The landscape unfolded before them—golden fields stretching beneath the vast Italian sky. No guards. No danger. Just motion, breath, and open air.

After a while, she turned slightly in the saddle, casting a glance over her shoulder. "Why are you doing this?"

Makros held her gaze, his expression unreadable. Then, with effortless certainty, he said, "Because I can."

That was the end of the discussion.

But the silence that followed wasn't empty. It was charged, humming between them with unspoken need.

Leila faced forward, her grip tightening slightly on the reins. His answer should have unsettled her. The way he did things without explanation, without asking permission. But with the steady rhythm of the horse beneath them and his warmth at her back, she let it be. For now.

The horse's pace slowed as they approached the stable, its powerful strides easing into a steady walk.

Leila exhaled, only now realizing how much tension had left her body during the ride.

For the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt—if not free, then at least unburdened, if only for a moment.

Makros dismounted first, landing with effortless grace.

He turned and extended a hand to her. She hesitated, not out of defiance, but because his presence had left something behind, something she wasn't ready to let go of just yet.

Still, she placed her hand in his. His grip was firm and steady, his fingers lingering around her waist a fraction longer even after he had helped her down.

He let go of her waist. "Not bad for a first ride."

Leila scoffed, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "I've survived worse."

Makros smirked. "I've got a joke."

She gave him a wary look. "This should be good."

"What's harder than riding a horse?" He let the pause stretch just long enough before adding, "My dick."

Leila blinked, then let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "You're insufferable."

Makros only shrugged. "But I'm not wrong. The horse didn't make you scream the way I do."

Leila's breath hitched. "You son of a—"

She never got to finish. Makros caught her off guard, his lips pressing firmly against hers, deliberate and unyielding, stealing the rest of her words.

For a split second, she tensed, instincts screaming to shove him away, to reject the way he shared without asking. But her body betrayed her. Her fingers curled into his shirt, caught between pushing and pulling.

Then, just as suddenly as he'd kissed her, he pulled back, his smirk lazy, knowing.

"I bet you were screaming inwardly just from that kiss," he murmured, his thumb grazing her lower lip before he took her hand and led her back to the waiting car.

Leila barely registered the crunch of gravel beneath their feet. Her mind was still reeling, her lips tingling with the lingering taste of him.

She forced herself to look away as they settled into the car.

The drive was quieter this time, Leila sinking into silence, lost in thought. Makros wasn't a man of idle indulgence. Every move he made had a purpose, and she refused to let herself get swept up in it without knowing why. This wasn't real. It wasn't anything.

The car slowed to a stop on an empty stretch of road. Up ahead, another vehicle idled, its tinted windows concealing whoever was inside.

Leila's brow furrowed. "What's going on?"

Makros checked his watch, then unbuckled his seatbelt. "I have business to attend to."

She stiffened. "And you're just leaving me here?"

His lips twitched as if amused. "Only for a little while."

The door clicked open, but before stepping out, he turned to Nicolai. "Take her home."

He didn't wait for a response. In a few strides, he was already in the waiting car. The door shut behind him, and just like that, he was gone.

Leila exhaled slowly as she watched the taillights disappear into the distance.

It didn't matter where he was going. It didn't matter what he was doing.

She needed to focus on ensuring she was still in control.