Page 69 of Malicious Claim

Makros smirked. "So I'll be the first one to break it then."

Chapter Thirty

Snake in the Grass

LEILA'S POV

Makros had left for Naples, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I could finally breathe. There wasn't much room for breathing though, not when the four walls of this estate still imprisoned me, and Nicolai, always watching, reminded me that my every move was being monitored. I hated being watched, even if it was by someone who believed they were protecting me.

I walked back to my room, feigning fatigue. Nicolai barely looked at me as he remained downstairs, I assumed to pop some pills. I'd seen him take them before during the Russian meeting. I guess he had anxiety problems... drugs... whatever.

But earlier in the day, I switched the pills with some sleeping meds. He wouldn't even notice until it was too late.

As expected, by the time I came out some thirty minutes later, Nicolai was passed out on the couch, snoring with some invincible z's. I quietly replaced the sleeping meds with his pills back.

My feet carried me toward Don Matteo's study. The door was slightly opened with light from within spilling into the hallway. My heart still raced even though I knew the Don was busy with Stefanos, and Nicolai was fast asleep. I slipped into the room quietly, my eyes scanning for anything that might give me leverage.

I didn't know what exactly I was searching for, but it had to be something that could be of use down the line. Documents.Letters. A name. I scoured the desk drawers, trying not to make too much noise.

That's when I saw it.

A folder. It was jammed in the back of the drawer, behind a pile of papers. The label on the front was barely legible, but I could make out the word "Crete." My heart rate increased. This might be significant. This might be the key to making Makros leave me alone.

But just as I was about to open it the door creaked behind me. I whirled, my heart pounding into my throat, to discover Stefanos slouching in the doorway. He smiled, his eyes looking all over me with suspicion.

"Ah, well," he slurred, "what do we have here?"

I closed the folder behind me and secretly tucked it away.

"What brings you here, Stefanos?" I asked, my voice colder than I wanted it to be.

He shrugged, peeling himself off the doorframe. "Just thought I'd see how you were doing. Check on you. Makros left, and you're all alone. Don't you think it's time you had some company?"

I narrowed my eyes on him. "I'm fine. I don't need company."

He stepped slowly forward, his gaze raking my body as if I were a piece of flesh. "You sure about that? It seemed you needed help looking for a book in the Don's private study." His fingers brushed the side of my arm, sending shivers down my spine.

I stiffened, taking a step back, but his hand shot out, gripping my wrist in an ironclad hold. "You know, you've been very difficult to get along with lately. I figured it's because Makros wouldn't let you breathe. Maybe you need someone to... loosen you up."

He pulled me against him, and I hardly had a chance to move before he pinned me into the desk. I could feel the chill of thewood against my back, the weight of his body pressed against mine, too close, too much.

"Let me go," I growled, my throat dry with anger.

He grinned, his mouth inches from mine. "What's wrong? Don't you like me, Leila? I can be very—”

His words were cut off by the sharp sound of a slap, the echo of my palm meeting his cheek. The shock in his eyes was fleeting. The anger that followed, though, was anything but short-lived.

"You shouldn't have done that," he growled, his fingers digging into my wrist like a dog's claw. I pushed at him hard, but he didn't let go. He grabbed my shoulder roughly and flipped me onto the desk, knocking over a few papers in his way. He wasted no time going straight for my breast like some sex depraved bulldog.

The air inside suddenly felt charged. My pulse skipped a beat. I wasn't going to let this man have his way with me, not after everything I had experienced with Makros. I wouldn't become a sex toy for the Cretes. I needed to act.

Instinctively, I took the closest thing to me—a paperweight and slammed it against the side of his head.

His eyes widened in shock before he fell to the floor–knees first. Then I knocked him again, unconscious.

I stood there, gasping, looking at him. "I hope you die you son of a bitch." The adrenaline was still racing through me, but I couldn't remain there.

There were footsteps coming from the hallway. I turned sharply, panic churning in my chest.