Page 108 of Malicious Claim

I turned to find a young woman with her back to me standing facing a man grasping her wrist much too tightly.

Leila.

She was younger, but that same spark was still in her eyes.

"No means no," she'd snarled. "Or do you not understand simple language?"

The man had merely laughed, pulling her towards him. "You're coming with me, Leila."

I'd stepped in before even realizing it.

The man barely had time to react to what was happening before I pinned him against the wall by the collar, his eyes fixed in a fierce glare.

"She said no," I whispered. "I suggest you leave on your own before I break every bone in your body."

She'd whispered her gratitude but that was all. I'd kept an eye out for the boyfriend, but he never showed his face again.

I hadn't seen Leila again either until the night her family was taken away from her. And now, she was standing here once more.

Kicking back. Indestructible.

The waiter placing our food on the table snapped me back to reality. The evening had gone on better than I expected—fine food, witty conversations, and a couple of moments where Leila almost tolerated my presence. Tonight, for once, we weren't at each other's throat.

The ride home was in silence.

Until Leila decided to speak to Nicolai. "Your brother—what happened to him?"

The question was direct. No warning, no hesitation.

Nicolai's expression hardened instantly. "It's none of your business."

Leila's jaw tightened. "I want to know."

Nicolai didn't even look at her. "We won't be discussing him or anything at all."

Leila pressed. "Makros said he died. Was it revenge? A deal gone wrong?"

I cut in. "Drop it."

Leila turned to me, her gaze sharp. "Why? Because it's a sore subject?"

I met her gaze, my voice firm. "Because it's not a question you want the answer to."

She looked at me for a long time. Then finally she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.

I caught Nicolai's gaze in the rearview mirror. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on the road.

Chapter Forty Two

Fire and Desire

The fire had burned almost everything.

Racks of handmade Italian shoes were turned to nothing. The warehouse stocked with high-grade leather was turned to ashes. The offices where deals were made and money was laundered clean nothing but smoldering remains.

And worse, five lives were lost, a few more were injured.

Three of them watched the footage in frozen silence on the tablet on the table. Fire fighters searched through the wreckage as smoke poured into the night air. The news reporter spoke in brief, rushed sentences, describing the attack on a very prominent business magnate's factory in Greece.