Page 124 of Malicious Claim

We were on our way to the restaurant. Just as I had expected.

Makros wasn't someone who dealt with uncertainties. He wasn't the type to let things just happen or trust in blind fate. Controlled variables, that was how his world worked. And finding out I'd gone on a date? Yeah, that was an uncertainty. There was no universe where he'd let that go unchecked.

The drive was silent. Nicolai drove like he had an appointment with the most wealthy and powerful man in the world, every second counted. I was in the middle of crafting a back up plan, just in case this all backfires on me, when the black SUV eased into the parking lot, coming to a deliberate stop.

Stefanos walked through the double glass doors stiffly, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. Maybe he thought this whole action was for nothing, a waste of time. But that only proved how little he understood about Makros.

I followed him, my heart rate steady, though my mind spun in futile circles. What was Makros searching for? What did he expect to discover by taking us to the restaurant?

Makros' voice pierced my wonder.

"Where did you sit?"

We paused at a table. Stefanos gestured towards it, despite another couple occupying the space. "Here."

Makros barely glanced at Stefanos. Instead, his eyes slowly scanned the restaurant, drinking in every detail. Then, with a simple gesture, he commanded, "Sit. In exactly the way you sat before."

Stefanos hesitated. "But Makros, it's occupied."

Makros turned to him at last, face impassive. "Then unoccupy it."

Stefanos let out a sharp exhale, clearly frustrated, but he didn't argue. Instead, he stepped toward the couple seated at the table, flashing them the kind of smile that barely concealed irritation.

"Sorry to interrupt the love bonding," he said smoothly, pulling out his wallet and slipping a few euro bills onto the table. "Dinner's on us. But you'll have to find another seat."

The young couple exchanged glances, the man seemed about ready to throw punches until his gaze scanned past Stefanos—straight to Makros. Whatever he perceived made him think twice. Wordlessly, they accepted the money and sat down at another table.

Stefanos and I filled the pair's space. Nicolai drew a chair from another table and added it to our group.

Makros sank into the chair slowly. "Now," he said, settling back. "Tell me precisely what you did as it occurred from the moment you sat here."

"Is this necessary?" Stefanos hesitated, trying to seem calm but doing a terrible job of it.

Makros' expression didn't change. "Did I stutter? Start talking."

Something flickered across Stefanos' face, not anger, not understanding either. "Cousin, if you're curious about something just ask."

"What did you order?" Makros asked, not missing a beat.

I answered the question, even though I knew that it wasn't directed at me. "What I was craving."

Makros raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

I met his gaze. "Seafood pasta."

Makros nodded the slightest bit, then turned to Stefanos. "And you?"

"Steak. Medium rare." Stefanos folded his arms, clearly not happy with the grilling. "Makros, what do you want to find here, precisely?"

Makros ignored him. "What drink did you order?"

"Whiskey," Stefanos answered, his tone taking on a hint of his growing irritation.

Makros drummed his fingers on the table once before leaning forward slightly. "What did you two talk about?"

I looked at Stefanos. His jaw set for a moment before he replied. "Nothing important. Just small talk."

Makros' eyes narrowed. "Then it should be easy to remember."